Page 134 of Still Love You

"Yeah, I'm not hungry."

"You have to eat. You've been out here since six this morning."

How did she know that? Her dad must've told her. Since the break-up, I haven't slept well so I've been getting to work early every day.

"Come on. I have everything set up." Willow's in front of me now, dressed in one of her sexy farm girl outfits; denim cut-off shorts with a tiny white t-shirt and her red cowboy boots, her long dark hair tied back in a loose braid. I'd like to grab that braid, tug it back, and plant my mouth on hers.

"Silas?"

"Yeah." I wake up from my fantasy and toss my cutting shears in the bucket. "I didn't bring a lunch today. I forgot, so I'm just gonna skip it."

"You're not skipping lunch. Come on." She takes my hand, then freezes, like she didn't mean to do that.

I grip her hand, letting her know it's okay, and smile at her. "Are you saying you brought me lunch?"

She smiles back. "I didn't just bring it. I made it."

"What did you make?"

"Fried chicken." She swings our arms a little as we walk through the fields.

"You made fried chicken? Isn't that hard to make?"

"Yeah, and it's messy. Grease splattered all over the walls."

"Then why did you make it?"

"I've been watching these cooking shows on TV and I saw them making fried chicken one day and thought I'd try it." She pauses. "And, well, you really like fried chicken."

Is she saying she made it just for me? She's never cooked for me. I've cooked for her many times, but she's never made anything for me, other than cold sandwiches.

"It's been in the cooler," she says, "so it's not hot, but the lady on TV said cold fried chicken is how you eat it in the summer. I also have potato salad but I bought it at the store. And I cut up a cantaloupe that my dad picked this morning. I was going to make brownies but I didn't have time."

I tug on her hand, stopping her. "Why'd you do all this?"

She shrugs, her eyes gazing down. "I just haven't seen you much lately and I thought maybe if I brought you lunch, you'd spend some time with me."

"Willow." I tip her face up to mine. "I'll spend time with you whenever you want. But you told me to leave you alone, so that's what I'm doing."

"I didn't say to leave me alone. Or if I did, I didn't mean that. I just—"

"You said you didn't want to be friends. You said it was too hard to be around each other." I look her in the eye. "Have you changed your mind about that?"

She holds my gaze for a moment, then glances away. "We should eat before the bugs get all over the food." She starts walking off.

God, this girl frustrates the hell out of me. Why won't she just say what she's thinking? I can tell she wants to, but she won't. Just now, some thought entered her head and the happy mood she greeted me with turned sad and almost regretful. But why?

I follow her to one of the picnic tables. The other workers are already eating lunch, two tables down. They glance at us, then return their attention to their phones. I spot Willow's dad standing by the trailer, watching her and shaking his head. I think he's just as confused by his daughter's actions as I am.

"You even set the table," I say, noticing the red checkered tablecloth, plates, and silverware.

"Since I went to all that work to make the chicken, I thought it should be served in a nice way."

"I like it." I smile at her. "Thanks." I lean down and give her a peck on the cheek.

She looks surprised by the kiss but smiles back. "You're welcome."

As we have our fried chicken, she tells me what she's been up to the past few weeks. Her dad is right. It's like she has this new energy about her. I've never seen her like this. When she talks about all the products she's been creating, her whole face lights up. It's good to see her this happy. Even if we don't get back together, this is what I want for her. To be this happy about whatever it is she ends up doing.

---