Nah, it’ll probably be shit in the shoes. I think she’d get the satisfaction of knowing nothing is really ruined, but the experience would still be very unpleasant for me.
“It’s better to have a friend anyway,” Becki goes on, drawing me out of my own thoughts. A low moo echoes that. “Friend is a strong word, but I feel like maybe I’ll be able to use it. He did make me a wrap for lunch, which was very thoughtful of him.” She sighs breathily again. “And he smells good. Why does he have to smell good? Even when he’s all sweaty after shoveling poop, he shouldn’t smell good. I think there’s something wrong with my nose. Do you think I should get it checked out?”
She laughs at herself while my heart races double time. I feel like I’m breathing so loud that she should be able to hear me. What would I do if she caught me listening? Probably just man up and own it. See if she’d like me to test her theory about kissing. No, that is the absolute last thing I would do.
“Finn is like…he’s like biting into a fresh, juicy carrot right out of the garden. It would still have some of the dirt on it, but just the right amount and just the right flavor combination—earthy and sweet. He’s like…I don’t know. Cucumbers, zucchinis? No. Yellow beans? No, that’s not right either. Wait! A pumpkin! God. That’s it! His bottom is like a prize-winning pumpkin. Perfectly proportioned, and one that people like to look at. It would easily take first place because none can ever compare.”
Moobelle moos loudly, and Becki laughs at herself.
“Yeah, I know. I’m getting carried away here. I said I wouldn’t talk about him, but it’s all I’ve been doing.”
I mean to stay hidden, maybe slip out the barn door after a few more seconds of listening to this entertaining conversation. This conversation could win Becki a ribbon of her own, at a stand-up comedy night or something.
“Baaaa-ggoooooccckkkk!”
“Argh!” I let out a shocked yelp and whip around at the shrill noise that came from right behind me. It’s that chicken again—the one who frightened me over the fence. I don’t care what Becki says. It’s definitely looking at me with the same murderous gleam in its eye.
“Tulip?” Becki’s steps come scraping in those big boots of hers, over the barn’s wood plank floor. “Finn?” She sounds embarrassed when she says my name.
I freeze, realizing I’m caught between a rock and a chicken place. And now Becki is coming. She’s going to know I was listening to her because I’m far enough from the door that it’s obvious I didn’t just come in.
The chicken squawks loudly at me again. When she spots Becki, though, she rushes off in her direction. Becki puts both her hands on her hips.
“Tulip? You’re inside too? It’s a beautiful day, though. You and Moobelle? Finding it hot out there, huh?” I swear the chicken ruffles her feathers and starts preening proudly. “That’s my pretty girl,” Becki croons before picking up the dang thing and petting it like a cat. The chicken leans into her, and she kisses its head. After she sets the bird down, she looks at me and blushes fiercely.
Yup.
She knows. She most certainly knows I was standing here listening to her talking about me.
I’m going to pretend like I don’t know, so it’s not awkward AF.
“I just came to ask you about the grass. I noticed it’s getting long up and down the drive. I could mow it if you’d like.”
“Oh…” Becki stares hard at me like she’s trying to figure out just how much I heard versus how much I’m bullshitting her right now by standing here and keeping a straight face. “Yeah. That would be awesome. Thank you.”
“Uh, I…I’m not sure how to work it. The lawnmower, I mean. Would you mind showing me how to start it?”
“Yup. It’s newer, so it’s not finicky like the last one. You do have to start it with a screwdriver, but once you get it going, you can just hop on and ride.” She stands there staring at me, and I swear she gets even more flustered.
Meanwhile, my body feels like it’s a lightning rod that just got hit with a strike hard enough to power an entire continent for the next hundred…uh…centuries.
She did NOT mean it that way. She was talking about the mower. Snap out of it.
We both stand there in the world’s most awkward moment until I shuffle my boots a little. I know I’m staring at Becki’s mouth and her lips. I’m thinking about kissing her, not mowing lawns. But I really need to be thinking about mowing lawns. Pronto. Stat. ASAP.
“Okay. Um, I’ll show you then.”
“Right. Sure. Thank you.”
“You should put on sunscreen and bug spray.”