Work Text
Pelican Town was a sombre little corner of the world. Small-town dreams masked by a strong sense of tall poppy syndrome; people rarely came and almost never left. When the old man at the edge of town passed away his farm grew wearier. There was just no one to take care of it. None of the residents seemed to have the passion for seasonal vegetables like he did… well except for Pierre but he was busy figuring out if his wife was having an affair. The gossip mill was churning the day Quinn arrived. A rusty pickup truck piled high with boxes, a suspiciously duct-taped suitcase, and a single dying plant rolled into town like a tumbleweed with a tax bill. God, what the hell am I doing? Quinn thought standing out front of a place creatively named The General Store. His diamond-accented hat shielded his dark tanned skin from the simple town's sun. Long before societal expectations were shoved down his throat, as a child he frequented the town with his mum and younger sisters. From inside the store, a handful of residents awaited the new person’s entrance. Observing like a flock of birds, they were enthralled by the idea of a new face around town. “Looks like a city boy,” Pam mumbled, taking a swig from her flask and giving Quinn a once-over. “Bet he lasts a week.” “Or I bet he’s a writer,” Emily mused peeking through the window like the town’s resident anthropologist. “Or an influencer! Oh, how exciting!” “No, no,” Lewis, the mayor, whispered conspiratorially as he adjusted his hat and tried to look important. “That’s old man Richard’s grandson. He’s here to fix up the farm.” This revelation was greeted with collective silence, punctuated only by the sound of Pierre sipping his coffee loudly. Quinn, blissfully unaware of the attention, stepped inside the store, tripping slightly over the mat that read, Welcome! and immediately regretting every decision that had led him here. The air smelled like stale cinnamon and desperation, and Pierre was leaning against the counter with a grin so wide it had to be practised. “You must be Quinn!” Pierre said, spreading his arms like a proud host at a family reunion nobody wanted to attend. “Welcome to Pelican Town!” “Thanks,” Quinn said, awkwardly adjusting the strap of his backpack. “Uh, it’s… charming.” “Charming! That’s what we’re known for!” Pierre said, clearly choosing to ignore the peeling wallpaper and suspicious stain on the ceiling. “How about some seeds to get you started? We’ve got parsnips, everyone loves parsnips, and I will sell them to yah for a great price!” Quinn nodded haphazardly, clearly overwhelmed with the boisterous man’s pitches and the piercing eyes of other residents. He barely remembered his grandfather’s letters about this place, just vague promises of peace, purpose, and a break from the corporate grind. What he hadn’t expected was a home that was almost falling apart, a farm business that had no business, and a town of busybodies who seemed to have not seen a new person in at least a few years. ------------------------------------------------ Clutching the small, supposedly cheap paper bag of parsnip seeds like it contained the answers to life itself, Quinn stepped out into the sunlit square. The midday heat was relentless, radiating off the cobblestones in shimmering waves. The farm was so far away right now, and the thought of walking all the way there made him want to throw a hissy fit. Transport was easy in the city; everything was delivered to your doorstep in the blink of an eye. So, this immediate change of lifestyle was a slap in the face for the poor farmer who just wanted to grow some damn strawberries. Movement caught his eye beneath the sprawling oak tree at the edge of the square. Two women sat on a worn wooden bench, chatting animatedly. One, with a cascade of red hair, held a book open on her lap, her freckled face creased with a thoughtful smile. The other, shorter with dark skin and glasses perched on her nose, gestured enthusiastically as she spoke. Quinn hesitated, shifting on his heels. He wasn’t exactly in the mood for introductions, but his mother’s voice echoed faintly in the back of his mind: You can’t make friends by hiding in your room like you did here, Quinn. With a deep breath, he adjusted his hat, fiddled with his black messy hair, and crossed the square, his boots crunching against the gravel path. “Hi,” he said, stopping a few feet away. His voice came out rougher than intended like it had forgotten how to be friendly. The red-haired woman looked up first, blinking in surprise. Her green eyes softened into a warm smile. “Oh, hello,” she said, her tone gentle, as though she didn’t want to startle him. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You must be Mr. Richard’s grandson.” “Just Quinn is fine,” he corrected, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “I, uh… just moved in. To the farm.” “Welcome to Pelican Town!” Her smile widened, genuine and a little shy. “I’m Penny. It’s nice to meet you.” Before he could respond, the other woman stood, brushing invisible dust off her jeans. “And I’m Maru,” she said, extending her hand. Her grip was firm and confident, her smile bright. “If you ever need help fixing things around the farm, let me know. I tinker with tools and gadgets all the time. My mum runs the carpenter’s shop up the hill.” Quinn shook her hand, surprised by her enthusiasm. “Oh you mean Robin? Yeah I met her when I first moved in, she was sweet. And thanks, I might take you up on that. The place… uh, could use some work.” He laughed awkwardly, remembering the sagging porch and the broken fence he’d driven past earlier. Maru laughed too, a rich, easy sound. “Sounds about right. Your Grandpa wasn’t exactly a handyman, but I’m sure you’ll get it back in shape.” Penny tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. “It must be overwhelming, taking on such a big responsibility. If you ever need help, with… anything, just ask. Everyone here is pretty friendly. Well, mostly.” Quinn raised an eyebrow. “Mostly?” Maru snorted, folding her arms. “You’ll see. Not everyone in town is as… accommodating as us.” “Good to know,” Quinn said dryly, though a faint smile tugged at his lips. He hadn’t expected such warmth from strangers, and it chipped away at the unease that had clung to him since his arrival. “So, do you have a plan for the farm?” Penny asked, her hands folded neatly over the book on her lap. “Uh, survive?” Quinn said, half-joking trying not to think about the massive amounts of debt he was going to fall into trying to get that place remotely liveable. “Step two, figure out step two.” Maru grinned. “Sounds like a solid strategy.”They chatted a little longer, Penny recommending her favourite books in the town library, Maru teasing him about his obvious lack of farming experience. By the time Quinn excused himself, he felt lighter somehow, as though maybe his decision to throw away his degree and career was not entirely crazy in the first place. ------------------------------------------------ As the conversation trailed off and he waved his goodbyes to the two girls, Quinn headed towards his “farm.” Maybe everything is going to be alright in Pelican Town, he thought as he stepped with a bit more lightness and groove.
Bang
“What the fuck dude- watch it you messed up my run,” the voice of a disgruntled guy yelled who was clearly in his little world. The voice carried a certain edge that made Quinn have a vivid flashback to the high school jocks he grew up with, and clearly, the sweaty smell followed from those memories. Quinn turned to find a shirtless guy leaning casually against the fountain, trying to regain his balance, an old tripod and headphones hanging lazily out of his pocket. His tanned skin glistened in the sun, his snickering stare as blinding as the summer sky. “Sorry man, I didn’t see you there I was just heading home.” Quinn tried to voice apologetically, but coming out as more of a mumble. “You’re the new farmer, aren’t you?” his tone dripping with the kind of disdain that made the farmer’s skin crawl. Quinn arched an eyebrow. “Who’s asking?” “Alex,” he said, frowning. “And you are?” “Quinn.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Quinn blinked at Alex, momentarily thrown by the sharpness in his tone. The guy’s frown deepened, and Quinn couldn’t help but think he’d stepped into some unspoken local hierarchy where shirtless joggers held power. “Quinn,” he repeated, trying to keep his voice steady. “Like you said, I’m the new farmer.” Alex tilted his head, his expression flickering briefly, not quite disdain, not quite curiosity. “Figured,” he said, his words clipped. He pushed off the fountain, brushing non-existent dirt off his shorts. “Only person who’d walk around carrying parsnip seeds like a prize.” Quinn narrowed his eyes. “It’s not exactly an ideal accessory, I’ll admit.” For a moment, Alex’s lips twitched, almost forming a smirk, but it vanished just as quickly. He tucked the tripod under his arm and started to walk past, his tone offhanded. “Well farmboy, good luck out there. You’ll need it.” Quinn stepped aside, bristling at the remark. “Is this how you treat all the new people, or am I just special?” Alex stopped, glancing over his shoulder. His green eyes were sharp, guarded, and engulfed by a sense of resentment Quinn could not fathom. “Listen here Quinny, I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but don’t go talking back at me.” Alex stood there tall, commanding, it made goosebumps spread across the farmer like a disease. “I’m not the dumbass who moved from the city to a rotting farm… like fucking hello?” The jock’s words trickled from his mouth viciously, wrapping around Quinn like a vice before plunging straight into his pride. It left a sting that he knew would linger for a long after. Before Quinn could respond, Alex was jogging off again, leaving him in a state of utter disbelief. His choice to leave everything he knew behind was out of self-preservation. In the city, he always felt like a little boy looking for someone just to hold him and tell him it would all be okay. Am I really a dumbass for leaving? He pondered, trying to make sense of the interaction. I know I bumped into him but fuck man... He stood there silently, clutching his paper bag of seeds, unsure whether to cry or yell. The guy was an enigma wrapped in arrogance, and something about him left Quinn unsettled. It wasn’t just the attitude, it was the way he carried himself like he had something to prove and no one to prove it to. He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. Great start, Quinn. Making friends already. ------------------------------------------------ The walk back to the farm was both too short and too long. Too short to gather his thoughts, too long to ignore the nagging feeling of inadequacy that Alex’s words had stirred up. The parsnip seeds crinkled in his grip, a reminder of the mountain of work waiting for him. The late afternoon clouds covered the sun's bright demeanour, and the gravel path crunched beneath his boots like a metronome for his spiralling thoughts. When the rundown farmhouse finally came into view, Quinn couldn’t help but sigh. It looked even worse than it had this morning if that was even possible. The roof sagged like it was tired of existing, and the porch steps creaked ominously under his weight as he climbed them. Once he placed the seeds down on one of the steps, he stared out at the chaos of overgrown weeds and scattered rocks that stretched endlessly in every direction. “Well,” he muttered to himself, rubbing the back of his neck. “Time to figure out what the hell I’m doing.” He stepped off the porch and wandered into the field. The weeds tugged at his boots, a stubborn reminder of just how far the farm had fallen. His grandfather’s letters had painted a romantic picture of this place, a thriving, peaceful retreat… what a liar. In reality, the place looked more like a bad renovation show where the budget had run out halfway through. Once scouting the area for anything remotely salvageable, he headed back in the direction of his little worn-out cabin. In the corner of his dimly lit room, Quinn found dull and blunt farm supplies. Leaning against the cabin wall was an axe, scythe, hoe, and pickaxe that he was sure he wasn’t strong enough to carry. Next to that selection of tools was a rusted toolbox with hinges that groaned in protest as he pried it open. The contents revealed, well mostly nothing worthwhile, just an assortment of tools he didn’t know how to use and a watering can that had definitely seen better decades. This’ll have to do, he thought, grabbing the hoe and heading to a patch of dirt that looked slightly less hopeless than the rest. As he worked, the rhythmic scrape of the hoe against the soil gave him too much time to think. His mind drifted back to Alex and his words that just hit a little too hard, slicing through Quinn’s already fragile confidence. Was he really that out of his depth? Maybe. Probably. Absolutely. But he hadn’t left the city to give up at the first sign of resistance. He paused, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. The sun was dipping lower now, casting long shadows across the field. His muscles ached from the unfamiliar labour, but there was something oddly satisfying about seeing the weeds fall away, revealing patches of soil beneath. This is what you wanted, remember? A chance to start over. To do something real. Quinn inhaled deeply, the earthy scent of freshly turned soil filling his lungs. He could almost hear his grandfather’s voice, encouraging him, reminding him why he’d come here in the first place. But the fond encouragement from his grandpa was brief as an image of his mother’s face flashed in his mind. She was an elegant woman who worked tirelessly to provide for her children once Quinn’s dad left them for another woman. Is she even proud of me? Quinn sulked; I know a lot of me is unconventional for her but is this breaking her heart? All he wanted was to make her happy. His decision to leave really shocked her, hell, it shocked him too, she hadn’t expected him to leave home so fast. Being half brown from his mother, there was a set of cultural expectations men were expected to meet. Be the support of your family, get an education and a high paying job, and then eventually get married to a beautiful wife and have a lot of kids. For a long time, Quinn tried but he knew he couldn’t meet any of those expectations to full fruition. After what felt like hours, he had cleared a small area, just big enough for the parsnips. He carefully opened the paper bag and crouched down, planting each seed with a mix of reverence and uncertainty. The ground felt cool and damp beneath his fingers, and for the first time that day, he felt a flicker of genuine hope. As he stood back to survey his work, the weight of the day began to settle in his bones. The farm was still a mess, Alex’s words still lingered in his mind, and the future was a giant question mark. But for now, he had done something. Something small, but tangible. Quinn leaned against the hoe, watching the sky shift from orange to deep purple as the sun dipped below the horizon. It was like the end of a movie, a moment of innocent beauty that could only be described by the bliss that washed over anyone who was there. A brief twinkle of time that could so easily be missed if you didn’t look hard enough. It was– Fuck I’m starving. ------------------------------------------------ Quinn’s stomach grumbled again, louder this time as if to mock him. He stared at the empty shelves in the cabin’s small kitchen and sighed. Of course, he hadn’t thought to bring groceries. His fridge held exactly one item: a carton of expired milk that he was fairly certain would kill him if he sniffed it. While deciding if starvation was really the way to die or not, he remembered a building called the Stardrop Saloon earlier in town, its neon sign flickering like a half-hearted invitation. It wasn’t exactly the fine dining experience he’d imagined for his first night here, but at this point, he’d settle for anything that didn’t require planting, harvesting, or outright hallucinating. The farmer grabbed his jacket, shaking off the day’s grime, and set out toward town. By the time he arrived, the moon was dancing among the stars, leaving the streets bathed in the warm, golden glow of the saloon’s lights. Music filtered out through the swinging doors, lively, upbeat, and just loud enough to drown out his doubts. Inside, the Stardrop Saloon was everything he’d expected and more. It was rustic, sure, but in a way that felt intentional, like it had been frozen in time. A jukebox hummed in the corner, and the smell of fried food mingled with the faint scent of sawdust. The chatter of locals filled the room, a patchwork of laughter and gossip. Quinn hesitated in the doorway, suddenly hyper-aware of how much he stood out. The people here seemed familiar, their conversations easy and free-flowing. He was the newcomer, the outsider, the guy who carried parsnip seeds around like some kind of weirdo. “Hey there!” A cheerful voice broke through his spiralling thoughts. Behind the bar stood a woman with blue hair and an eccentric red dress. She waved him over, her vibe radiating welcome. “You must be the new farmer! I saw you at Pierre's’ earlier today!” she said, grabbing a menu from beneath the counter. “I’m Emily. What can I get you?” Quinn felt his nerves ease slightly as he approached. “Uh, yeah. I’m Quinn. And honestly, anything edible would be great. I didn’t exactly plan ahead.” Emily laughed, the sound light and genuine. “Don’t worry, we’ve got you covered! Gus here, the owner, is an amazing chef, let me grab you something hearty. You look like you’ve had a long day.” Her smile guided Quinn’s eyes to another man behind the bar bantering with a lady at the corner of the countertop. As she disappeared into the kitchen, Quinn glanced around the room. He noticed a man in an apron clearly seemingly like he just got off work sitting with a guy in fishing gear, both sculling down their drinks and chatting up a storm. In the corner sat a woman with a green checkered shirt, gazing off in the distance into her little world. Before he could take in more, Emily returned with a plate of steaming food. “Here you go. One spaghetti with enough meat and carbs to keep you going for hours. It’s on the house!” Quinn smiled gratefully. “Thanks, Emily. I owe you one.” As he dug into his meal, a tall man with long, blondish-brown hair and an air of quiet confidence approached the bar. He glanced at the farmer briefly before addressing Emily. “Evening, Emily. Usual, please.” She nodded, already reaching for a bottle. “Hi, Elliott. Quinn, meet Elliott. He’s one of our local celebrities.” Elliott raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Hardly a celebrity,” he chuckled, his voice smooth and deliberate. “Just a writer who happens to live by the beach.” Quinn wiped his hand on a napkin before extending it. “Nice to meet you. I’m Quinn, the new farmer.” Elliott shook his hand with a polite smile. “Ah, the new farmer. Welcome to Pelican Town. I imagine the transition has been… interesting.” “That’s one way to put it,” Quinn mumbled, thinking of Alex and the mess of a farm waiting for him. Elliott chuckled again, taking his drink and moving to a nearby table. “Well, if you ever need inspiration… or a break from farming you know where to find me.” Do I? Quinn laughed in his head I only know you live on a beach I have never been to. Quinn nodded at him happily, his plate nearly empty now. The Stardrop Saloon was turning out to be more than just a place to eat, it was a window into the town’s heart. And for the first time since arriving, he felt like maybe, he could find his place here.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Quinn woke with a groan, every muscle in his body protesting as he shifted beneath the thin blanket. His shoulders ached, his hands were blistered, and his legs felt like they’d been replaced with lead. Farming, it seemed, was an excellent way to discover muscles he hadn’t known existed.
My god, maybe starvation last night really was the way to go.
He stared at the wooden ceiling of his cabin, listening to the distant chirping of birds. The morning light crept through the cracks in the window shutters, too cheerful for his mood. “Well, I better get up and water my damn parsnips,” he whined, pushing himself upright with a sigh. Every inch of his body continued to scream in an orchestral unison, playing a symphony of pain, agony, and a nice dose of melancholia.
Eventually, he shuffled out of bed, pulling on the least wrinkled shirt he could find. A quick glance in the mirror confirmed his suspicion: he looked like shit. Dark circles clung to his eyes, and his thick black hair stuck up at odd angles. “Fuck my actual life,” he sang as he splashed cold water on his face from the sink basin.
When he put himself together to the best of his ability he stepped out onto the porch, the cool morning air hit him like a gentle reminder that life outside the city had its perks. The fields still looked like a disaster zone, but there was a strange satisfaction in knowing it was
his
disaster zone. For a moment he marvelled in the fact he owned this plot of land, there was no rent (well… like he was paying anything while still living with his mother), and certainly no traffic. City customs were now replaced by small-town mysteries, and he wondered where he would go from here.
A rustling sound from the path drew his attention. He squinted against the sunlight and spotted a figure approaching. It was a woman with auburn hair tied back loosely, wearing cozy-looking attire. Beside her trotted a small orange cat, its tail meekly swaying against the breeze. “Good morning!” she called out, waving cheerfully. “You must be the new farmer!” Quinn nodded, stepping down from the porch to meet her. “That’s me. Quinn.”
How
many times
have I had to say my name in the past few days?
He chuckled to himself quietly. She smiled warmly, extending a hand. “I’m Marnie. I run the ranch south of here. Figured I’d stop by and introduce myself.” Quinn shook her hand, noting her firm grip. “Nice to meet you, Marnie. What brings you up here at this time?”
Marnie’s eyes glistened as she glanced down at the cat, now weaving between her legs. “Well, I’ve got a bit of a proposition for you... This little girl here,” she gestured to the orange furball “has been hanging around my ranch for weeks. Sweet thing, but I can’t keep her. Too many animals to look after already.”
“You want me to take her?”
Quinn cut in, taken aback
assuming what she
was going to ask.
I can barely take care of myself,
he thought
,
hell
, this land is literally an accident zone waiting to happen.
Marnie nodded, oblivious to the
honestly
outlandish request.
“You’re out here all alone. A little company might do you good, and she seems to like you already.”
Quinn crouched down, extending a hand toward the cat. It sniffed his fingers before nuzzling against his palm, purring loudly. Despite himself, Quinn felt a smile tug at his lips. “Well, I guess it couldn’t hurt,” he said, knowing he was going against his better judgement while scratching behind the cat’s ears. Marnie beamed, “That’s the spirit! She’ll keep the mice away too, which I’m sure you’ll appreciate once you’ve got crops coming in.” Quinn chuckled, “Fair point. Does she have a name?” “Not yet. That’s your job now,” she said with a wink.
Quinn straightened up, cradling the cat in his arms as it continued to purr contentedly. “Alright, princess. Looks like you’re stuck with me.” The other farmer clapped her hands together. “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted. If you ever need supplies, feed, hay, that sort of thing, stop by my ranch! I left you a week’s supply of cat food for now. Oh, and welcome to Pelican Town!”
As Marnie headed back down the path, Quinn stood there with the cat nestled against his chest, its warmth seeping into him. “Now, what am I going to call you?” he pondered, looking into its clueless eyes. “Hmm, maybe Ginny… or Ivy… hmm what about Parsnip?” The cat did not look impressed. “Oh, I know!” The farmer announced with glee, “I’ll name you Daisy!”
Quinn looked at the cat fondly, placing it inside the cabin with a small bowl of water and one of the cans Marnie had left him. Daisy purred softly, already making herself at home. “Guess you’re settling in faster than I am,” he laughed, scratching her head before stepping outside to tackle today’s farm duties.
------------------------------------------------
By the time Quinn finished watering his parsnips and clearing out another chunk of the overgrown mess that was his farm, his muscles were aching a lot more than before. He leaned against the rusted hoe, sweat trickling down his face, and wiped it away with a random rag he’d found in the kitchen. He didn’t want to think too hard about the last time it had been washed. That was something only Yoba needed to worry about.
The meagre row of parsnips looked… fine. Pathetic, maybe. But fine. Yet somehow, that felt like a win. For a guy who used to struggle to keep a single houseplant alive, having even one crop planted and watered proved to him he had the potential to run this forsaken farm. Not being in the best shape, Quinn couldn’t help but always feel subpar to the other men around him.
In the city, he had been surrounded by gym junkies who were always obsessed with looking their best, while he was
just
trying to get through life one day at a time.
This win was nice, it was small… but fulfilling.
Quinn moved to sit on his porch steps, letting the cool breeze wash over him. The chaos of debris still stretched out before him like a battlefield, but he’d carved out a tiny corner of order. It wasn’t much, but it was his. He smiled faintly, fingers tracing the edge of the watering can at his side.
The thought crept in quietly, uninvited:
It’s not enough.
He frowned, the weight of his empty pockets suddenly heavier. If he wanted this farm
to
actually
survive
, Yoba, if he wanted to survive, he’d need more than a few parsnips. His stomach growled as if to emphasise the point. Glancing at leftover money he’d managed to scrounge together, he
let out a sigh
. “I need more crops,” he decided, standing up and brushing dirt off his hands. More money. More tools. More knowledge. He exhaled sharply, shaking off the weight of those thoughts. Progress was progress, even if it came in inches.
------------------------------------------------
The walk felt shorter than it had the day before, the path a little more familiar now. Pelican Town bustled with quiet energy, the townsfolk chatting near the fountain, children playing tag near the saloon, and the occasional ripple from the river right at the edge of town.The bell above Pierre’s General Store jingled as he stepped inside. The place smelled of old cardboard and even more desperation than the last time he was here. Rows of neatly organized shelves lined the walls, stocked with everything from seeds to snacks. Behind the counter, Pierre greeted him with a booming, “Welcome back Quinn! What can I do for you today?” Quinn glanced at the seed selection, trying to remember the advice from the flyer he’d skimmed last night. "Uh, I’ll take a pack of potatoes, cauliflower, and maybe... strawberries?" He counted out his coins, feeling the sting of how quickly his budget was dwindling. Pierre gleamed at his new incoming profit as he handed over the small packets with a flourish. “Great choices! I hope you’re able to manage them!” “Here’s hoping,” Quinn sighed, tucking the seeds into his bag. He nodded a polite thanks and turned to leave.
------------------------------------------------
Just as he stepped outside, Quinn collided with something, or rather, someone, broad and solid.
Shit.
“Again farmboy?” came a
voice, familiar and carrying
a similar edge of irritation. Quinn blinked, stumbling back a step to find himself face-to-face with Alex. “Do you just never look where you’re fucking going?” The jock was pissed, and to be honest rightfully so at this point. Quinn didn’t know what to do other than chirp out a pathetic, “I’m sorry…”
Looking into Alex’s eyes, for a moment there seemed to be a hint of sympathy. It was brief, but for Quinn, it made him feel like he wasn’t a complete fuck up. Glancing to his side, the farmer realised a gorgeous young woman was hanging off the jock’s left arm.
Wow,
Quinn admired her, she was perfect. Her blonde hair caught the sunlight so perfectly it was almost obnoxious like she knew exactly how to work every angle. The outfit she was wearing encapsulated her youth divinely,
almost
formatting her into a living artwork. She wasn’t just pretty… she was unfairly flawless.
The woman’s gaze flicked up and down, her nose scrunching slightly. “You look... dirty,” she said, the words cutting through the brief silence.
Her tone wasn’t cruel exactly
,
more like she was pointing out an obvious fact.
Quinn’s cheeks burned with embarrassment as his brain scrambled for a response.
Well, yeah, I’ve been digging around in the dirt, Princess Perfect. Who even are you?
He bit back the words before they escaped. It wasn’t worth the drama. Besides, this girl looked like she’d stepped
straight
out of a luxury magazine. His stomach twisted, but not
in the same way
it did around Alex’s towering presence.
Were they a couple? They seem like one.
Oh crap… he was
just
staring at them.
“I… uh, sorry,” Quinn finally said, rubbing the back of his neck, trying to ignore the heat rising to his face and salvage the situation. “I was just startled... by, uh, how nice you looked today if I’m honest.” The words tumbled out awkwardly, and the second they left his mouth, Alex’s neutral face etched into a deep frown. The girl blinked, her expression relaxing, seeming quite startled by the compliment. But before she could respond, Alex stepped forward, eyes narrowing.
“Hey, man,” Alex said, his voice low and laced with tension. “You hitting on my girl or something?” Quinn’s hands shot up defensively. “What? No! Yoba, no. I was just, look, I wasn’t trying to hit on her, okay?” He looked between the two of them, his heart pounding. “I’m not looking for trouble.”
Alex held his glare for a long, uncomfortable moment before finally backing off with a scoff. “Better not be,” he replied, pulling her
a little
closer. “I don’t understand you, you’re so fucking weird. You’ve been here for what two days? And you’re already majorly pissing me off.
The words held a grip around Quinn’s neck, suffocating him with the nerves he felt every time he was around the athlete. He felt like a little kid again, it was childish, and he wanted to punch, kick, and scream. But he couldn’t… he just couldn't do that. “Listen.” He retorted in a more serious tone, trying to muster any strength within him. “Yeah, I haven’t been here that long, but I deserve to be treated with an ounce of decency from you.”
Alex looked taken aback, his mouth opening and closing like he was searching for words that wouldn’t come. The air between them felt thick enough to slice with a knife. The woman shifted uncomfortably, her gaze darting between the two men. Quinn could feel his pulse pounding in his ears.
Great. Just great.
Before Alex could regain his footing in the argument, a new voice cut in, jarringly cheerful against the tension. “Ah, there you all are! Beautiful day, isn’t it?”
Quinn turned to see Mayor Lewis approaching
,
Thank Yoba,
his wide-brimmed hat slightly askew and a forced smile plastered on his face.
He clapped his hands together as if he hadn’t just wandered into a showdown. “Good to see the new farmer getting acquainted with the locals!” Alex straightened but didn’t bother hiding his scowl. “Yeah, just trying to teach some manners here, some people don’t know when to back off,” he spat,
shooting a glare
at Quinn.
Lewis’s eyes flicked between
the two of
them, his smile faltering slightly. “Oh, come now, Alex,” he said, his tone overly jovial. “I’m sure it’s just a little misunderstanding!
No
need to let things get heated. We’re all neighbours here, right?” Quinn nodded quickly, eager to latch onto the lifeline Lewis had thrown into the conversation. “Exactly. Just a misunderstanding,” he echoed, though his voice wavered slightly.
The girl, still clutching Alex’s arm, rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. “Ugh, boys. This is so immature. I’m going home.” She tugged Alex’s arm. “Are you coming or what? I’m bored.” She started to head off before quickly turning around and confidently saying, “Oh, I’m Haley by the way.” Alex hesitated, his glare lingering on Quinn for a moment longer before finally turning to Haley. “Yeah, whatever,” he mumbled, allowing himself to be led away.
As the pair disappeared down the path, Lewis
let out
a low whistle, adjusting his hat. “Well, that was... lively,” he said, looking at Quinn with
a mixture of
amusement and concern. “You alright there, son?” Quinn exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for stepping in… That could’ve gone... worse.”
Lewis chuckled lightly, patting Quinn on the shoulder. “Welcome to Pelican Town,” he said with a wink. “We’ve got plenty of charm... and plenty of personalities to go with it. You’ll get used to it,” he added with a grin, “either way, let me know if you need anything.”
Quinn watched the mayor amble off, the tension in his chest slowly easing.
Why was everyone so eager to offer their assistance around here?
He glanced down at the seed packets in his hand and let out a long sigh.
Time
to
go
plant these, I guess.