Zach still hasn't had the chance to meet the sleeping boy but has had plenty of chances to observe him. Soon after arriving, the boy had removed his shirt and tied it over his hat, keeping it in place while serving as a cover for his neck from the burning sun. The boy is so tanned from spending his days outside, Zach doubts the sun is much of a bother. And besides, even the sun seems more friendly here in Shanan, like a friend who needs not prove himself with force because he knows he is welcome and loved.
Observing the boy has led Zach to amend his initial belief that the boy is shy or any sort of outcast. The boy is obviously friends with every single worker there, and moves from person to person in constant conversation and laughter, often being scolded and told to get back to work jokingly by his peers. He always wears a smile during such exchanges and sometimes teases the person scolding him, pretending to tackle them, or feinting a punch to their stomach.
And Zach doesn't know how else to put it, the boy loves to touch people. Always hugging or grabbing the person he is speaking to or being yelled at by. But he always returns to his job and works silently for a period, accomplishing more than enough to make up for his distraction.
Before he knows it, the man in the pickup is returning down the well-worn path, tooting his horn at the boys and girls while they return his enthusiasm with cheers and shouts of their own.
Zach scans the gathering crowd, finding Henry who regards him understandingly and says simply, "All done for the day, kid. Now we all head back to enjoy a hot cooked meal from the missus."
They all pile into the back of the truck again, and Henry takes his place in the front seat of the cab. Zach quickly takes his spot in an empty corner, making note of his suitcase still tucked away safely close by, and allows the others to take their seats around him. They return to their conversations and jokes like the day has rewound and is just beginning anew. He can't help but feel pride in what he has accomplished and feels excited for what will come next.
Someone sits down next to him, and Zach turns in the excitement of the moment, wanting to make conversation for the ride back to the farmhouse. It's the sleeping boy! The one Zach hasn't had a chance to talk to all day, despite observing him from afar.
The boy smiles as their eyes meet, and Zach finds that the boy is a bit shorter than him, even sitting. And, still shirtless, more muscular as well. His tan arm touches Zach's in the tight quarters and Zach's own bare arm seems to come to life in the spot their skin touches. He's used to being adored and fawned over by his relatives, but he can't think of a time when he has been touched so casually by a stranger, as odd as it sounds.
"You seem to be enjoying yourself, at least," the boy nods toward him.
The boy's choice of words confuses him a bit. Most conversations he'd had so far had started with the usual, 'where are you from, what brings you here, what's your name' kind of questions. Maybe the boy really had been listening before, with the old man.
"Yeah," he answers with the same aloofness. "This day has gone a whole lot differently than I imagined it would when I woke up."
The boy smiles again with a sort of bouncing motion, or maybe its the bumpy ride. He seems to move with the bumps and shifts in a light, preemptive way that makes Zach want to keep his eyes focused on him.
"I'm Shane, by the way," He slides his arm over Zach's and rests it over Zach's knees, palm extended. Zach frees his right hand from under his body, bumping shoulders with the boy in the process, and takes his hand, shaking politely.
"Zachary," he nods, "but you can call me Zach." The boy just keeps looking at him, not expectantly, and not out of politeness. Just observing, as though discerning Zach's every thought beyond his eyes.
"We're about the same age, huh?" Zach breaks the short silence. Another pothole shifts them both toward Zach, and he feels Shane's weight on him even more now.
"Probably," Shane replies simply.
Zach bites his lip, wanting to ask more directly, but realizing that if the boy didn't offer it willingly, he might not want to disclose his age to a stranger. He's only been among these people a few hours but is already picking up on their customs of courtesy. He wishes to emulate them.
A group of boys can be heard shouting louder now and Zach momentarily turns his attention to their outburst. Two of them seem to be arm-wrestling over top of the back of another boy who is laughing uncontrollably. The two girls beside them begin scolding them before eventually joining in with matched amusement. Zach laughs a little, too, at the sight.
"I'm seventeen," comes the voice of Shane next to him. As Zach turns back, he realizes Shane has brought his face closer to Zach's in order to be heard over the event. And before meeting his eyes again, Zach thinks he feels Shane's eyes drawing toward his mouth.
His smile disappears but is replaced with a smaller grin as he replies, "Oh, I'm sixteen. So pretty close after all." Close. He realizes with his words how close they are to one another physically and suddenly feels the need to put space between them. He feels hot, and Shane's skin on his, his face so close, makes him feel a bit lightheaded.
Maybe I'm just dehydrated from the heat. He shifts forward and tries to scoot his body over, but doesn't get far before feeling foolish and embarrassed for wanting to distance himself from such a nice person. Shane's arm feels heavier against his own.
They arrive at the farmhouse, pile out, eat the most delicious meal Zach has had in his whole life, and pile back into the man's pickup for the return into town. Or for Zach, his first arrival.
Multiple times during the meal, Zach tried sneaking glances at the boy named Shane, expecting to meet his eyes. But every time he did, the boy was hunched over his plate or wagging his fork in the face of the older girl next to him, debating some kind of food or another. He wasn't disappointed, exactly. It did make him want to learn more about the boy and his motives.
As they make their way into town, Zach is in awe by it all. The town of Shanan is so different from his own. No towering buildings or endless hordes of traffic. There is really only one traffic light for the whole town, and it simply blinks red and yellow at regular intervals, indicating which line of intersection has the right of way. Some roads off the main aren't even paved.
He sees a post office that must be a hundred years old, a country store that looks even older, and shops and cafes lining the well-groomed streets. Farms surround the town with houses dotting the land in the distance. There's even a bed and breakfast that looks promising.
The old man slows his pickup to a stop in front of the country store in what seems to be the middle of the town. Everyone including Zach hops out and lines up to collect their daily earnings one by one from his rolled-down window.
When Zach's turn comes, the man hands him the bills and says, "Be in this spot t'mara mornin if you're still up ta workin! I do pickup ev'r day for the folks is wantin a ride." He winks at him, then rolls up his window and drives away.
Most of his new acquaintances have already scattered, walking toward shops and fields and houses, and for a moment Zach wonders what to do. But Shane is beside him now resting his weight on Zach's hip, and he smiles.
"So where are you staying?"
Zach shrugs. "I was just wondering that myself. It looks like you have a bed and breakfast here. The place any good?"
Shane smiles and stands up straighter now, turning toward the street.
"Oh yeah, Millie's the best. Fair price, good cook. I would definitely recommend her over old Mr. Price at the Motel." He stretches his arms over his head with a grin. "Probably cleaner, too."
Zach isn't sure what that means, but it sounds like this Millie's place is his best bet.
"Great, thank you," Zach turns toward the road but feels a tug on the back of his shirt. He turns to see Shane shaking his head with a coy look on his face.
"But you're not staying there," he demands. "Come stay at my house. Granny won't mind; and you can meet Maddie, my sister.
Zach looks down. It's a tempting offer. Not to mention free.
"I-I wouldn't want to be a bother."
Shane raises a brow.
"Zach," he argues, "If you use your earnings each day on housing, you'll starve the first week. Don't they teach anything about budgeting in those schools in the city?"
Zach scratches his head. "Yeah, you're probably right. But, you're sure I won't be imposing? I'll be here a few weeks at least."
The boy answers by sliding his arm between Zach's and insisting, "Come on.."
He leads him down one street, then another, and finally down a dirt path barely big enough to be called a road.
"You're gonna love Maddie. And Granny is the best cook around! Well, maybe not as good as the old lady, but don't tell her I said that," he laughs.
They come up on a well maintained and perfectly sized farmhouse, probably similar to a lot of the other houses in the area, but with a sort of vintage charm. A wide and welcoming porch lines its borders, and wind chimes of all shapes and tones are dancing in the breeze. Its faded and chipped white paint only seems to add to its beauty, making it seem to Zach like a house with its own well-earned sense of pride.
"What do you think?" asks Shane, arms wide as they approach its cobblestoned walk.
Zach stops to take it all in.
"It's perfect," he says without thinking. "Like a place where only good things could happen."
Shane looks at him, and Zach comes to his senses.
"Oh, I didn't mean...I just. I've never seen a house that looks more like..a home..than this one." He blushes. "Sorry if that sounds weird; it's your house, you probably have all kinds of different memories here, not all good." He closes his mouth to stop himself from rambling further, but Shane is still beside him, silent. Zach looks up at him to apologize once more, but Shane takes a step towards him instead.
Zach's words catch in his throat as he looks into the boy's eyes, trying to discern what they mean.
Then Shane leans in even closer, and Zach's brain is suddenly flinging itself in every direction trying to decide what to do.
Should I move? Is he mad? Is this a joke, a test? Wait...why-
Why does it seem like he's about to kiss me!?