Page 31 of To Catch a Firefly

Do I want to?

It’s not a betrayal.

Feels like it, though.

In the end, I nod slowly, and Gabby’s smile widens.

“You’ll be my date?” she checks.

I clear my throat. “Yes.”

She looks so happy, and I hope I’m not making a mistake. I don’t want to hurt her, but one date isn’t a promise. People date all the time.

Not that I’m familiar with it myself.

Gabby hops a little on the balls of her feet, reminding me momentarily of Lucky. “Great,” she says. “See you tomorrow?”

I give a nod, and with a final, beaming smile, Gabby twirls away. I watch her go for a moment, trying to imagine us together. Trying to imagine her hair between my fingers or her lips on mine. I think about her eyes—what color are they, green?—and what they might look like lost in pleasure. But all I canpicture is sparkling blue and corkscrewing blonde, and I quickly wipe the images from my mind.

Alone again, I climb up onto the tractor. It whirs to life, and this time, the hitch attaches to the bucket without a single extra clunk. I smile, making sure the front end is lowered before I turn off the tractor and climb down.

The rest of the afternoon passes quickly. I work with Riley to clean up the farm equipment that’s onsite, scrubbing dirt and all manner of gunk off the machinery and down the drain. Like many of our classmates, myself included, Riley stayed in town and became a husker. Brandon, from what I heard, is over at the paper mill. I can’t say I ever did forgive him for splitting Lucky’s lip. Riley, at least, apologized for being a part of it. We get along well enough now.

Some days, I don’t spend any time here in the warehouse or at the adjacent corn processing plant where Gabby and my mom work. During planting and harvesting seasons especially, it’s not uncommon to be out in the fields for days or weeks at a time. I think I prefer it that way, just me and the land. With the exception of Lucky, I’ve always preferred my own company to others’. It’s easier when I don’t have to worry about my words not coming out right. Or not coming out at all.

That’s never been a problem with Lucky.

Riley, at least, doesn’t seem to mind my lack of conversation, unlike some of the older farmers who avoid me or think yelling will make me hear them better. I hear them just fine, but I’m used to that reaction from people who don’t know me. Most people in town are kind, and truth be told, it’s not so bad here, corn-husking included. The work can be monotonous and often tiring, but there’s comfort in this life. In knowing exactly what my day will bring.

When the end of our shift rolls around, Riley and I say our goodbyes, and he heads off to his truck. I take a minute towash up first, cleaning the grime off my hands, arms, and out from underneath my fingernails. While I’m drying my hands, my phone rings in my back pocket. My cheeks ache with my smile when I see the name onscreen.

I answer as I head toward the door.

“Ellis?” the voice asks.

I hum, a quiet sound. A contented one.

Lucky chuckles. “It’s good to hear your voice.”

I shake my head.Smartass.

“Are you off work?” he asks.

A grunting yes.

“Good,” he says, sounding as if he’s settling in somewhere. Bed? “Guess where I am.”

My mind spins, trying to figure out where he might be that the time difference would put him so much later than me. “Portugal?”

He makes a curious sound. “Damn, that’s close. Morocco.”

My hum sounds a little smug.

“How’d you figure that out?” Lucky asks, shifting again.

“Sheets,” I tell him, pushing outside. The sun hits me square on, and I blink a few times before lowering my shades.

Lucky is quiet for a moment. “You can hear the sheets?” he finally asks.

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