Alex – POV
Sam and Sebastian were locked in an unnecessarily intense game of pool like they were dueling for honor or rent money—hard to tell with those two. Meanwhile, I found myself sharing an awkward silence on the blue couch in the Saloon's backroom with Abigail, who looked about as comfortable as a cat in a bathtub.
And honestly? Same.
I've known these people forever, but I've never quite vibed with the Goth Twins™. They're like... if Hot Topic came to life and started journaling about existential dread. I, on the other hand, am emotionally shallow enough to be classified as a decorative birdbath. They're deep. I'm... conveniently waterproof.
Abigail's a pretty girl, though—big blue eyes, thick purple hair, curves, the whole look. Honestly, I don't know why she and Sebastian aren't a couple already. They've got the same energy: brooding, mysterious, occasionally poetic. It's weirdly romantic. In a dark fantasy novel kinda way.
Meanwhile, Sam? Sam's been in love with Penny since we were in fifth grade. Dude can talk to anyone about anything—football, aliens, existential crises—but the second Penny walks by, he forgets how to human.
"You want a beer?" I asked Abigail, who was slouched so hard into the couch, I wasn't sure if she was sitting or melting.
"Sure," she said, gnawing at her thumbnail like it had personally offended her. "And if they have sliders? I'll take those too."
"You guys want a beer?" I asked Sam and Sebastain.
"Aw yeah!" Sam yelled, lining up a shot.
"Ew," Sebastian muttered, eyes never leaving the cue ball, like he could will it into the pocket with sheer angst.
Mentally rolled my eyes. Physically walked away.
Gus spotted me before I made it to the bar. "Alex, my boy!" he boomed, practically vibrating with excitement. "What brings you out of Granny Evelyn's clutches tonight?"
"I just really love the jukebox," I deadpanned.
He laughed so hard, I thought he might hand me the deed to the Saloon. Gus knows I'd rather eat dirt than willingly listen to the hoedown banjo twang that plays on loop in here.
Then the Saloon door chimed—and that's when she walked in.
Light brown hair cascading to her hips, skin fair like she'd never missed a sunscreen application, and these wide green eyes that looked like they'd been Photoshopped. She had a few freckles across the bridge of her nose—just her nose, nowhere else—and her lips were that confusing combo of small and somehow full. She scanned the Saloon like she was trying to memorize it, and every time her lashes fluttered, I swear the room got quieter.
New farmer? Has to be.
Then her eyes met mine—and I immediately malfunctioned.
"Sorry," I muttered, suddenly twelve years old and learning how to speak again.
To my shock, she laughed. Not a fake, polite giggle—like, an actual laugh. "It's alright. I'm Hannah."
Even her voice sounded like a movie trailer. Elegant, light, like the beginning of a skincare ad. She held out her hand, and I noticed tiny cuts and calluses on her fingers. Yep—farmer confirmed.
"Alex," I said, shaking it. Right then, Gus slammed three beers on the bar like he was trying to wake me up.
"On the house, Alex. Glad you came out tonight."
"Me too," I replied—and I wasn't just talking about the drinks. "I'll see you around, Hannah."
"You will," she said, like she already knew I'd fall in love with her and she was just being patient about it.
I walked back to the couch with the beers, still mildly stunned.
Abigail snatched one like a parched desert traveler. "Finally. You weren't getting my sliders, I can tell."
"They're out," I muttered, trying not to replay the Hannah Laugh in my head like a highlight reel. "You guys met the new farmer yet?"
"Hannah? Yeah," Sam said. "I saw her leaving Seb's place last week."
My eyebrows did a little twitch.
"She was there to see my mom," Sebastian added, not even looking up. His hair was all in his face, but I could feel him staring through me with his mystical, soul-piercing, goth-boy gaze.
Cool. Not dating. Proceed to breathe again.
"Dude," Sam grinned. "You like her, don't you?"
My face lit up like a busted toaster. Abigail sat up straight and studied me like she was prepping a lab report.
"Ohhh, you do!" she smirked. "She's hot. Kinda dresses like she's in a prairie cult, but still hot."
Both Sam and Seb made twin faces of pure what-the-hell at her.
"What?" Abigail shrugged. "She wears a lot of skirts. I didn't say she was a Mormon."
I finally laughed, shaking my head. "I don't even know her. I just met her thirty seconds ago."
"Love at first sight," Abigail sang.
"That's not a real thing," Seb sighed, like he'd personally filed the paperwork.
Still, he added, "You should go for it. Haley could use a dethroning."
"Whoa," Sam choked on his drink.
"Sebastian!" Abigail gasped.
Seb just shrugged. "I'm not wrong. You're all just cowards for not saying it, and I don't care if you don't say it, I will."
I smirked. "Haley's not that bad. It's all a front."
"Yeah? Don't let her hear you say that unless you're ready to die ball-less," Abigail added.
I finished my beer and patted Sam's shoulder. "Thanks for dragging me out."
"No problem, man. Come next Friday."
"What is this like a thing now?" Seb grumbled like he'd just learned about mandatory team-building exercises.
"He's joking," Sam rolled his eyes.
"I wasn't—"
"Bye, Alex!" Abigail cut in like she was his PR manager.
I shoved my hands in my jeans and stepped outside. It was 11. Granny was for sure asleep by now. I could already hear Grandpa George snoring like a dying lawnmower.
As I passed the hallway, I caught sight of the picture of my mom holding me as a baby. I've seen it a hundred times, but yeah... still hits like a freight train every time.
But tonight? For the first time in a while, it felt like the weight of everything was just a little lighter.
ns18.218.10.21da2
and then Add to home screen.