Classics in Summertime

There wasn’t a cloud in the sky on the first day I met Dylan. The sun was beating all along the blacktop of the Farm and Home parking lot, and a small line of sweat was beginning to form on my brow from having to carry the chicken feed all the way out to my dad’s truck.

The first thing I saw was his bright red Mercedes, complete with California license plates, which were far different from my Montana ones. I knew there was something off about him immediately, especially from the way he was shoving his groceries into the backseat of his car instead of in the trunk like a normal person.

It was obvious even then how out of place he was. There was something about his eyes and the way he talked. He had stubble that had been around for days and a car filled with clothes that couldn't last half that. He wasn't supposed to be there and we both knew it. He was a city boy, out in the country, looking for a fresh start.

I struggled as I tried to lift the chicken feed up and over the bed of the truck. Ordinarily, it wouldn’t have been a problem for me, but I’d been carrying it for the better part of a quarter hour while I waited in line and walked out to the parking lot. My arms were beginning to get weak and shaky, and that strange boy walked over the moment he saw me.

“Here, let me help you with that.”

He was grabbing onto the edge of the bag before I had a chance to decline, and although he appeared to be as skinny as could be, he had no difficulty in setting the bag safely in it’s place.

“Thank you,” I said simply. I had no interest in talking to him, but I had never been one to be rude either. He held my gaze for a little too long and smiled.

“I’m Dylan, by the way.” He was holding out his hand as an invitation to shake it, which I had to oblige. “I just moved out here.”

“I noticed,” I said, motioning to the California license plates on his far too fancy car. “Everly.”

He chuckled and smiled at me again. “I’ll have to put changing those plates on my to-do list. It’s nice to meet you, Everly.”

“Nice to meet you, too.” I took a step back from him in the direction of the driver’s seat, still giving him the same smile he’d been giving me. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve gotta get going. My dad’s waiting for me.”

Dylan smiled and nodded. “Of course. In a town like this, I suspect I’ll see you around again soon.”

He was probably right. Though my small town took up many acres of land, it was all farm and had a population less than 100 people and the nearest city over an hour’s drive away, which just made it all the stranger that Dylan had chosen Noxon to make his new home.

The curious boy posed more questions than he answered, but I ignored him as I watched him and his Mercedes speeding off down the road. After a quick shake of my head, I pulled out of the parking lot myself and made my way back towards my dad’s farm.

When Dylan said he suspected we would see each other around, I knew he was right, but I didn’t realize just how right he was until I was driving down my street.

Ridgewood Lane consisted of only two houses: one large farm, which belonged to my father, and a smaller farm that had been for sale for quite some time after both of the Smith’s had passed a few years ago.

As luck would have it, I saw the same red Mercedes parked outside the Smith’s former home and the same curious boy carrying groceries inside. There weren’t too many houses in Noxon, so it shouldn’t have been too much of a stretch that he’d be moving into the one house that had been empty for years, but it still shocked me to see him standing outside.

Thankfully, I blew past his new home without making awkward eye contact through the passenger side window, and when I got back to my dad’s farm, I made quick work of putting the chicken feed in its proper place. I took a short minute to check on the horses before I headed back out of the barn, ready to check on my mom and see if she had dinner ready.

If I looked closely enough, I could just barely make out the bright red of Dylan’s car on the far side of the road before I stepped into the door.

My mom was standing in the kitchen, as she usually was, with her hair tied up into a soft bun. She had a smile on her face as she talked to the figure beside her, whom I didn’t recognize until he turned around.

“Everly, dear,” my mother said, smiling as she tossed her rag onto the counter. “We were just talking about you. This is Dylan. He just bought the Smith’s old place down the road.”

Dylan looked from my mom to me, smiling and nodding as he spoke. “We just met earlier, actually. I helped her carry her bags.”

“Oh, what a gentleman!”

My mother was practically swooning over him, but it wasn’t anything I didn’t expect. I loved my mother with all my heart, but she had a thing for younger men, mostly involving looking at them. My father didn’t pay much attention to her anymore, so she had this problem for a while, which was partly why she was so obsessed with my on and off boyfriend, Wyatt, whom I was currently on an off period with.

Dylan’s smile hung on me for a moment before he stepped away from the counter and toward my mother. He held his hand out to her, which she shook happily as he spoke. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Beckett, but I better be going now. I hate to keep you from your dinner.”

“Oh, please, call me Anne,” my mother said sweetly, smiling at Dylan as he took a step away. “Stop by anytime.

He moved towards the door, passing me with a smile as he tucked his hands deep into his pockets. “It was a pleasure to meet you, too, Everly. I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon.”

I nodded my head towards him, watching as he walked through the front door just as my younger brother was stepping in.

“Who was that?” Austin asked, looking at me with a curious look in his eyes.

“That’s Dylan,” I said simply, folding my arms across my chest. “He just moved in down the road.”

“Oh,” Austin replied, cocking his head to the side. He always had a look on his face like he was twice his age, which would still barely put him as old as me. “Is he a farmer?”

I shook my head. “No, I don’t think so.”

Austin clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth, shrugging his shoulders with a sigh. “Dad’s going to hate him.”

I sighed back because I knew he was right.