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stardewremixed · 3 months

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Stardew Valley Employment Headcanons

I've been thinking a lot about how many folks in the Valley don't work. In some ways, it feels realistic. A small town that is clearly dying until the Farmer comes along struggles with unemployment rates. It could be related to high taxes (*side-eyes* I'm looking at you, Lewis) and competitive megacorporations (like Joja) undermining the local economy. However, I'd like to do a little headcanon for the residents and their job situation.

Under spoilers, because TL;DR.

Abigail - after graduating with a degree in art history, Abigail starts working out in her mother's fitness group. She starts swimming at the spa. And she starts a workout regiment with Alex. Of course, this leads her to finally join the Adventure Guild full-time, protecting the Valley and exploring the depths of the mines. She still jams from time to time with Sam and Seb. I also like to think she leads a local Scouts troop.

Alex - this man deserves to have an amazing job as a pro gridball player. However, while he waits, he could coach a local kids team at the Community Center. I can also see him work part-time stocking shelves at Pierre's General Store. Maybe he lifeguards at the Ginger Island Beach during the busy season or drives deliveries out to Sandy in the desert for Pierre. Or he could work with Robin. Mmm... this man, chopping wood... fantasies. He still sells ice cream in the summertime maybe on the weekends or at festival days (because come on, Pierre needs a little competition and I love the idea of pineapple ice cream at the luau and stardrop sorbet at the moonlit jelly fest). I also see him doing odd jobs around the valley until he gets more stable work at Pierre's or Robin's. Need someone to fix your leaky roof? Alex is your man! (Because Evelyn mentions George can't do it anymore).

Elliott - I still like the idea of Elliott's secret wealth and he escaped his family to become a writer. However, maybe he regularly submits poems and sonnets via various contests online under a pseudonym, and does a few freelance articles (maybe on small towns, fishing, romance, etc.). This man deserves to publish a masterpiece and make it on a bestseller list, then gets an agent, and of course, publishes a series. He still does readings in the Valley at the library and the Saloon because he always wants to remember his humble roots and the people who cheered him on when he was a nobody in the business.

Emily - She absolutely needs to start a side-business as the town tailor. It's kind-of already in the lore, but I could see her starting up an online business (maybe with the help of Seb) on an Etsy-esque site. Also, I can see her helping out on the farm for a little something extra when she's not working at the Saloon. Maybe tending to the flowers, watering plants when the Farmer is in the Mines or off on the island or in the desert for the day. She mentions she would like to do this, but Gus apparently frowns on a side job. Hmm... well, I can see this girl eventually leaving her job at the Saloon to pursue her sewing passion full-time. She totally hosts a yoga class in the winter at the Community Center.

Harvey - He is already a well-respected town doctor, but the man is so stressed that he is hardly ever in the Clinic (at least not without mods). I propose Harvey hires some extra help, an associate, maybe another nurse, and a receptionist to assist, especially if patients from surrounding towns (like he mentions) start visiting (i.e. expansions). And he teaches first aid classes at the Community Center.

Haley - Like Leah, she needs an art exhibit to showcase her photography. Unlike the other villagers, I don't see her staying in the Valley, eventually pursuing the work of a freelance photographer and traveling the world (like her absentee parents). She does make an annual trip back for the Flower Dance, her favorite festival. I have pursued Haley the least in game so I'm struggling to come up with more ideas here.

Leah - Speaking of Leah, she transforms the Valley into a premier art destination. She can teach art classes at the renovated Community Center. She teams up with Seb and Sam (and drags Elliott along for the ride, and the writing) to produce an avant-garde film about the art all around us in small towns. I also think she grows her own herbs and sells them at Pierre's, festivals, and the Farmer's Markets (as she gives me green witch vibes). Maybe she partners with Caroline (or the Wizard) to create some herbal potions and creams. And of course, she's still at it with woodworking, though these days she works on commission for those types of projects.

Sam - This man deserves to be a rock star. And I think he'd make a great solo artist. However, if his guitarist dreams don't pan out, he has options. In the vanilla game, he starts working with Gunther at the museum after JojaMart closes. It's a strange choice, but... I figure, maybe he minored in anthropology in college. He would absolutely give amazing tours of the museum, full of exuberant commentary, perfect for kids field trip days too. And I think he plays gigs in Zuzu City and at the Saloon regularly, and maybe even out at Sophia's winery (Stardew Valley Expanded).

Maru - Nursing just doesn't really seem to fit this woman of multiple interests. She finally pursues her passion of robotics and goes to work in a proper lab in a nearby City (doesn't have to be Zuzu - my headcanon is Pine-Mesa City or Grampleton from Stardew Valley Expanded). I think she makes regular trips to the Planetarium too. I could see her visiting the Valley on long weekends, and maybe taking the local kids club on a night-time stargazing event in the summer.

Sebastian - Please give this man a proper window in his basement, Robin! Okay, if he doesn't marry the Farmer, Seb moves out anyway and goes to live in the City for a while, to find investors for his indie game studio. In the meantime, he continues to do freelance programming work. And then, one day, he makes a breakthrough game that revolutionizes the industry. After making A LOT of money, he invests in a SAVE-THE-FROGS campaign, hires multiple developers and other staff, and starts working on his next big game. But he still makes time to jam with Sam and Abi from time to time, and of course, take long rides on his motorcycle.

Penny - This poor woman needs some love. Penny pursues her higher education and officially receives her teaching license. She is hired by the local school district so she can do more than just tutor. She can finally afford her own little apartment. She starts a kids club in the Community Center, and creates a summer reading program at the Stardew Library. And I like to think she takes a monthly trip to Zuzu City to shop in a big bookstore for fresh reading material when she has some down time.

Shane - Oh this guy is definitely a mess. If you don't "romance" him in game, he doesn't really turn his life around, and even if he does, it doesn't really point to recovery as it should, imo (without the help of mods). This man hates his job, and yet he feels stuck. I propose the following. After he recovers in therapy, completes rehab, and genuinely quits drinking (forever), and of course, loses his job at Joja (suck it, Morris!), Shane starts working at Marnie's shop and contracts out as a farmhand all around the Valley. Then he can be a proper godfather to Jas, and provide some actual service at the Ranch (when Marnie's off doing who knows what with you know who...)

I have thoughts for the other Villagers in the Valley too, but I'll save those for a different post.

#stardew valley #sdv headcanon #stardew valley headcanon #stardewremixed #sdv abigail #sdv alex #sdv shane #sdv sebastian #sdv elliott #sdv harvey #sdv sam #sdv emily #sdv haley #sdv leah #sdv maru #sdv penny #sdv townies

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stardewremixed · 10 months

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First Kiss with Shane

@hellhoundmaggie requested a first kiss scene with Shane. He was the first guy I romanced in SDV, mostly because it was easy to in the beginning and I wanted that first-year flower dance so badly. 😂 🌸

🎈 In case you missed it - First Kiss with Harvey. 🎈

While Harvey holds a special place in my heart and is generally my go-to husbando, I didn’t want to leave my “first SDV squeeze” in the lurch. I’m trying to expand my experience with writing romance in general. Hope you enjoy. It’s a freakin’ novella. Haha. I don’t do short, and I wanted to show how he fell in love with the Farmer, and she with him.

This is female farmer x Shane = first kiss. This one might be a little more PG.

😉❤️‍🔥🔥

Sweaty palms. Greasy hair. Chubby cheeks and legs. Is this what she sees in me?

Shane stared bleakly at his own reflection in the refrigerator door. It was quiet. Nearly noiseless in the back aisle of the stark JojaMart. A lull in the daily traffic around 4pm on the dot. When his shift ended.

Shane pressed his forehead against the glass, grumbling to himself about his infinite lack of progress on losing weight. Ever since he started going to therapy and quit drinking, he felt confident that his life would turn around. Like magic.

However, life outside the rehabilitation center was much harder than he remembered. He was still stuck in the same dead-end job. He was still bumming a room off his aunt with his piddly rent And he was still rather plump around his abdomen.

Every time Morris ordered him around, in that pompous high London accent, Shane wanted to give up. To give in. To snatch a beer outta the cooler and gulp away his frustrations.

Instead, he settled for cussing under his breath, and resolving to keep his head down. At least until he could find another job. No one seemed to be hiring in this dying town. The recession was still hitting hard. And he knew he was lucky to get his old job back after nine months in detox and rehab.

It was worth it. It would be worth it. He convinced himself as he puffed a lazy strand of hair out of his eye and continued stocking cartons of overprocessed milk, nothing like his aunt’s fresh bottles or the farmer’s delicious cheeses.

While he was still grossly underpaid, Shane worked out the math. In six more checks, he could repay her. The Jolly Rancher. Just thinking about his silly little nickname for the farmer lady to the north gave him a warm feeling. The kind that alcohol used to give him, only better, more real. Her smile was sweet.

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When she first arrived in town, Shane genuinely disliked her. All her bubbly, bouncy, jolly persona encroaching on his flat, boring, grumpy existence. He had cultivated a philosophy of "me myself and I" and was perfectly content being alone, sulking into a pitcher of beer at the end of the night. But not really…

Her jovialty grew on him, especially when he would see her around town, helping people out. At first, he figured she was just another city do-gooder come to convert the backwater people to a more modern lifestyle. But her joy and kindness was genuine. Even when he yelled at her to go away, she still murmured a heartfelt apology for disturbing him and then brought him freshly grown peppers or tomatoes the next day like nothing had ever happened.

The Farmer purchased cows from Marnie so she could make her own specialty dairy products. He was seriously impressed. Because what city girl just ups and buys cattle?

Sometimes when he was restlessly tossing and turning in bed (and if was honest, lonely), Shane would wander around in the wee pre-dawn hours. He always seemed to make his way to her ranch. Most of the time, she was out in the barn milking the cows and talking to them like they were her babies, with just a lantern illuminating her soft face. She was so beautiful.

Raising cattle was no simple task. He knew this from watching his aunt. And Marnie had horses, pigs, goats, rabbits and chickens to think of too. He wasn't sure if the new rancher in town, with little to no experience (save her degree in veterinary medicine), was stupid or brave. Over time, he determined she was the latter.

Out searching for a lost cow in a thunderstorm. Not thinking about her own welfare. Only wanting to reunite a terrified animal with its herd.

Fixing fences after wolves knocked down the back posts time and time again. Her fingers bleeding and scarred because of her lack of self-awareness sometimes. And chasing of “’dem there wolves” with sheer willpower... and... a big stick.

Rebuilding the barn from scratch when a wildfire spread down from the mountains. She saved every single one of those animals. And needing treatment for smoke inhalation because she went back in for the tiniest frightened newborn.

He remembered the time she got kicked in the head by one of the cows. Shane was so worried about her, even if he wouldn’t admit it when he carried her to the Clinic. Thankfully, it was only a minor concussion. (And it was an excuse for him to deliver Marnie's special basket of goodies to her twice daily so she didn't have to worry about feeding herself during her recovery).

The rancher struggled for a whole year, after arriving in the Valley. But even when things went wrong, she was up and back at it the next morning with a lightness in her heart and step. It. Was. Admirable.

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Shane resolved to do better. To be better. She made him think about how things could be different if he wasn't a self-sabotaging jerkwad. The number of times she dragged his sorry ass home after getting plastered at the Saloon was too high to count, even if it was out of her way, even if she said she didn't mind. She wanted him to be okay. To be safe. She said so.

And she half pushed, half dragged him to the Clinic the night things got really dark. When he faced the edge of the cliff and thought "No more!" When he thought death would be a welcome reprieve from his pathetic life.

She never judged him. She didn't enable him like his aunt. She didn't fall apart into a puddle of tears like Jas. She didn't lecture him on the evils of his ways while twirling his moustache like Harvey. Okay. Shane chuckled to himself. Maybe that last part was an exaggeration and unfair to the good doctor.

She. Simply. Cared.

Through her actions.

In the beginning, it was little things. A happy hello. A robust handwave. Then she started pulling up a barstool next to him in the Stardrop. She would ask him about his day and he would always answer the same way. But "go away" somehow morphed into a sarcastic "just peachy" and then eventually a half-hearted "fine, you can sit there." Once she jokingly called him Peaches.

He didn't want to be bothered with her questions and idle chatter. He didn't want to listen to her ranching successes and woes, retold in a much-too-chipper voice. He didn't want to know about Bluebell and Daffodil and Daisy, how Mister Munster was nursing a hoof injury and how Mrs. Butters was expecting her second calf. Why did she think he cared about such details?

But it grew on him. Those rosy, ruddy cheeks, enjoying a hard-earned glass of whatever Gus had on tap. The way her eyes lit up and sparkled when she talked about her animal friends. The way her pale pink lips pouted when she lost a game of Journey of the Prairie King in the saloon arcade. Again.

Shane found himself drawn to her energy. And he found himself missing her on the nights she didn't stop into the Saloon. Which was a rarity, but did happen.

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Shane knew she was someone special when he would watch the entrance door, breath caught, hoping she would breeze through, and then she didn't. Two days in a row. He started to feel disappointed, but brushed it off. Three days. He started to get concerned. On the fourth night, he went looking for her. And that's when he learned she was sick.

He practically broke down her door when she didn’t answer.

“Aww you were worried,” she laughed weakly, and coughed.

She looked rather pitiful, bundled under the blankets, hair sticking to her cheek, eyes droopy and dark. She thought Marnie would have told him. His aunt had sent a few of her ranch hands to help their neighbor out while she was under the weather. so her cattle weren’t forgotten

No, Marnie never did. He suspected it was because she didn't know it would matter to him. But it did matter. She. Did. Matter.

Without a word, Shane went to the kitchen and returned with a cool towel. He didn't even think. He laid the back of his large hand against her delicate forehead. He could've sworn the little Miss Jolly Rancher blushed. Or maybe it was the slight fever she was running. She audibly sighed as he placed the wet cloth against her burning cheek, closing her eyes and mumbling her thanks.

He wanted to know the last time she ate. She grunted and said something about some cereal earlier that morning. She didn't know for sure. She had slept most of the day. He promised he would be right back.

She told him not to bother, as she struggled to lift her body off the bed, propping up by a shaky elbow. He insisted she lie back down. She was a stubborn one. Her protestations didn't last long as her head was too foggy to think straight. He microwaved a bowl of soup. She tried to sit up again, and he fluffed her pillows so she could prop up.

Her grip on the spoon wasn't firm, her trembling hands an indication of just how weak she was. So he caught the escaping silverware and lifted the soup to her lips. She turned red as a hot pepper, but he eased her with a surprisingly tender words, "Please. Let me take care of you for once, Miss Jolly." His own face and ears were probably red too. But she accepted.

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Since then, he began the habit of calling her "Miss Jolly." She flushed every time, but he enjoyed flustering her. It was nice… to care… about… someone.

She returned the “favor” and called him Peaches. At first, jokingly, just to annoy him. But over time, even the ridiculous fruity nickname grew on him. She was invading his thoughts and heart and he couldn’t stop her.

He knew he had to change. He had to get better. Alcoholism was a disease that had ravaged his life and he was ready for something better. He couldn’t live like he had been any longer. She had changed everything for him. And he wanted to change in return.

Disappointment smacked cold. He had researched so many places. But the one place that seemed to fit his needs and desired treatment plan was out of reach. Prohibitively expensive. He sold his dad’s watch. His car. He worked longer hours. Maybe in a few years he could make up the difference.

She knew how much he wanted this... and how badly he needed this. Every glance at his savings account wanted to drive him to the bottle, the hopelessness of a solution just out of reach because of his crappy medical insurance. They wouldn’t cover it. Even though he was pretty sure Joja was the reason he drank so heavily.

No, that wasn’t true. It was his own insurmountable guilt. Of surviving the accident. When they didn’t. Of leaving Jas without a respectable father figure. Or a mother. He didn’t even fight when the courts wanted to give him jail time.

His aunt got a lawyer and gave him a place to stay when he got out. She helped him put together a resume and practically shoved the application for overnight backroom clerk in his hands. He had to face the music. He wasn’t cut out for any other job. And it was basically a glorified “stock boy.”

Approaching middle-age, recently released from prison, and overwhelmed with a crushing lack of self worth, Shane interviewed and got the job. He should be grateful. But the hours were grueling and monotonous. Customers were rude. Employees were ruder. Except that Sam kid. He was a ball of sunshine. And his boss was sucking the life outta him.

So he drank. He drank to forget. Because he couldn’t forgive himself. And every time he looked at Jas’ little pained expression, he drank more because he felt... so... damn... worthless.

The Rancher changed things for him. He felt more positive. He got up earlier. He brushed his teeth. He combed his hair. He put on his uniform for the world’s lousiest low-paying job and went to work hoping things would be better.

Faced with the inability to actually “get better” was... frankly... terrifying. What if he went back to being that same old pathetic blob of a human again? After ten agonizing days, he finally confided in the one person he knew he could trust. His “Miss Jolly.”

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He couldn’t believe he had been moved to tears. She surprised him... again. With her thoughtful generosity and selflessness. She promised to pay for the difference. Whatever he couldn’t afford. She told him it wasn’t a big deal. It was a VERY BIG deal! She still had some of the inheritance money from her grandfather. What she hadn’t spent on fixing up the farm.

“So I don’t get those gingham curtains I’ve had my eyes on for the past month,” she quipped.

It was serious. He couldn’t accept it. He wouldn’t accept it. It was too much. He didn’t like the idea of being indebted. He was stubborn. He could refuse.

But she was more stubborn. She insisted it would be a loan, not a gift. He could pay it off over time. Without interest. Or he could work it off - sweat equity - on her ranch. Maybe with those chickens he liked so much.

In the end, he caved. He packed up what little he could take with him. And she walked him to the bus stop. Kissed his cheek. Squeezed his hand. And said the words that simultaneously made him laugh and warmed his heart.

“Go get ‘em, Peaches.”

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That was a year ago now. When he came home, she threw a big surprise party for him. A few people from town, his aunt, Jas. And she never looked more beautiful. She even found chicken shaped balloons. Because... what guy doesn’t want balloon animals from the girl he’s crushing on?

Crushing on? He smirked. I sound like a middle schooler.

He split his time between the market and her ranch. Gradually spending more and more time on her farm. Gathering eggs before his shift. Feeding chickens on the way home from work. Sipping peach iced tea in the shade of her porch and thinking this life wasn’t half-bad. But he wanted more.

She started bringing by lunches on his longer shift days. Homemade sandwiches and fresh-pressed juices and handpicked peppers. The kind that burst with sweetness or that spicy kick he needed to get through the rest of his day.

She learned to roll her own dough. Once a week, on hot summer evenings, she would make him pizza with her own special spicy red sauce. Wearing that cute little red and white checkered apron around her jean shorts and just below the edge of her tank top. Too hot to be standing around the stovetop making pizza sauce or the oven to bake the dough. But she did it for him. Shane looked forward to it after a long and grueling Saturday shift.

He still stopped at the Saloon most nights, but now it was just to drink soda and share a pepper poppers appetizer. Gus started bottling root beer, made from bark and flowers and herbs from around the Valley. It wasn’t alcoholic. And it was an acquired taste. Getting better with time.

She would breeze in and offer suggestions and feedback. Shane enjoyed watching the two “play” squabble over the choice of leaves. The kindly saloon owner and the girl he liked collaborating to make him a refreshing drink became a welcome nicety.

Most nights, they didn’t stay long. Heading out for long walks around town. Shoes scuffling along cobblestones. Kicking up dirt on wooded paths. Kicking off on the beach to feel the mushy sand. Talking about nothing important, but always special. Any time with her was special.

He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have a friend like her. To have a woman of her rare caliber show him any attention at all. She got past his defenses and he welcomed it. And deep in his heart, Shane knew - this was love.

With today’s paycheck, he could finally take her on a proper date. Somewhere out of the Valley. Someplace where they could have fun together. He felt the excitement and nervous anticipation rising in his chest. Somehow he fumbled through an “ask” on her front porch this morning, managing to invite her to join him... if she wanted... at the bus stop... around 5pm. He had tickets to see the Tunnelers play.

Shane finished his shelf, glancing at his watch. Ten past four. Just enough time to get home, showered, and changed. He disposed of the empty boxes in the dumpster and delivered the cart to the back room. Opening his locker, he hung his apron on the hook. Instantly, he felt lighter. Like that thing was a noose around his neck. A ball and chain. He really needed a new job. And in fifty, no, forty-six minutes, he could see her...

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"SHANE!"

The shrill obnoxious tone pierced his moment of peace. The voice could only belong to one person - a holllow husk of a corporate shill, even more unlikeable than him, if that was even possible. Shane frowned, his eyes clamping on the store manager barreling toward him at full speed.

“A whole second shipment came in just now,” the man grunted. “Like I need this when I’m short-staffed, as always,” he offered an exasperated sigh.

I can’t imagine why... Shane thought to himself, bemused. The boss was insufferable. Always barking orders. Never praising his team. Paying peanuts. Polishing his baby - a silver Rolls Royce in mint condition - parked in the only covered spot in the entire Joja lot - every night - instead of doing paperwork like he should. How was he still employed? No one at corporate cared.

“Not my problem, Morris,” Shane replied.

“No, no, no,” Morris fluttered his short arms. “It is your problem. I need you to stay late and help Sam empty the truck.”

The man continued to ramble something about “this is why I pay you” and “you think you can do better somewhere else?” He badgered Shane about his “work ethic,” even if Shane had been a near model employee since returning from rehab. Even if his former colleagues actually welcomed him back, much to his shock. Shy little Claire even commented on how he was “different” than before.

Shane had been nominated for employee of the month, no doubt, angering Morris. The man had it out for him. Sticking him on graveyard shifts. Making him mop baby puke in the aisles. Forcing him to attend a “hospitality” seminar so he could learn to be nicer to, in Morris’ words, “bored housewives who somehow like your prickly personality.”

Morris, a man who prided himself in appearance, with his neat little bow tie and perfectly ironed jacket, couldn’t believe how the ladies bought more after a rough encounter with Shane. It was good for business, of course, and Morris would take all the credit. That hospitality seminar wasn’t cheap, he constantly reminded Shane. Like rehab hadn’t made him a better person already. Or his relationship with little Miss Jolly.

“They just fawn over your monotone delivery of the daily sales,” Morris droned on. “Yoba only knows why. You haven’t been educated at the finest university this side of the Pond with an impeccable taste in... well, everything.” Morris puffed his chest.

“I just don’t understand why they giggle at the register about the ‘handsome’ stock boy when they could have me recite the daily sales in Shakespearean English for heavens sake. Well, no matter. I can use what I’ve got. You.”

The man thinks I’m a frickin’ pack of meat.

“Now in order to have sales, we must have stocked shelves. And in order to have stocked shelves, I need to have you stay longer. Because shelves don’t stock themselves... and what are you staring at?”

Shane rubbed his jaw, catching his reflection in Morris’ little glasses. Could I really be that handsome? Morris wasn’t wrong. The market had been a little busier than usual in the mornings and around lunchtime. Shane came back from breaks early sometimes because customers “requested” him. He could reach the “tall” shelves.

But he wasn’t that tall. And most times, he needed a ladder. Unlike Sam. But even Sam told him he had been relegated to “cute” because the female patrons wanted to check out the new guy (on the ladder) because Shane possessed a look of danger and mystery, and had that "hot dad bod."

Like that’s really a thing I wanted! Shane rolled his eyes. It's all a little disgusting. Being oogled. Because what? Dangerous? Dad bod? I’m just me. There was only one gal he wanted checking him out. And he needed to get going if he was going to meet her.

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“No can do, Boss,” Shane removed his Joja cap and hooked it alongside his apron. “Got plans tonight.”

“No, no, no,” Morris’ voice grew tight, his eyes becoming tinier. “That won’t do. You must cancel your plans.”

“Do I get overtime?” Shane asked, half-distracted by the photo occupying the inside of his locker.

It was the only thing he had ever decorated with at work. A photo of him and Miss Jolly at the Moonlight Jellies festival about a month ago. It was the one time he actually thought he was photogenic. How could he not be happy? With a gorgeous gal by his side, smiling and laughing as the photo was taken, a woman who believed in him, rooted for him, and cared for him. Shane’s expression softened as he thought about how much she had impacted his life.

“You know what?” Shane ripped the photo from his locker wall with gusto. “I quit.”

“Are you even listening?” Morris was saying. “And no, I’m not going to approve overtime. You left early by one minute the other night. One minute!"

"And one time last week, you were late by three minutes. I will not approve overtime for someone who nearly runs over a flock of geese with his bicycle and is late to work."

"If you’re going to keep up with this lazy attitude of yours...” he huffed and straightened his jacket. “I may have to reconsider my decision to rehire you... even if you bring in the ladies... I mean... sales...”

“What?” Morris’ eyes grew wide as saucers beneath his horn-rimmed glasses, and then his expression darkened, as if Shane poured bitter coffee all over the plates. “You cannot quit. Are you joking?”

“Well I do, and I’m not,” Shane shoved the old rusty lock that never latched properly into the other man’s hand, a smile crossing his face. “With pleasure.”

Shane waltzed out of the soul-sucking store, leaving a dumbfounded former boss as the double doors whooshed behind him. He closed his eyes and took a big gulp of sea-salt air and sighed. He felt free.

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When she met him at the bus stop, his heart skipped a beat. She looked radiant in the setting sun. Her eyes sparkling like stars. And her sexy little denim skirt was a nice touch too. The way her hips swayed ever so slightly on approach. He forced his gaze upward.

"Hiiii... Miss Jolly. I'm glad you decided to come," he greeted, his tone a bit stilted and formal.

What am I doing? He rubbed the back of his head.

"Of course, Peaches. I'm excited," she grinned. "This will be my first game."

"You'll love it!" he replied, wrinkling his nose at her childish nickname for him. And I will too with you by my side.

"Is that cologne?" she asked when she reached his side.

Her fingers curled around his hoodie strings as she closed her eyes and took a whiff. "I like it." She grinned and winked at him. "A bit spicy."

"Yeah yeah," he murmured and ushered her onto the bus, but he hopped up the step behind her, feeling a little lighter on his feet.

"You're in a good mood," she remarked as they wandered toward the back of the bus.

The atmosphere was charged. Rowdy. Everyone seemed excited for the Tunnelers game. He nodded to a few familiar faces before settling in next to her seat. The back was better than the front. Cool kids sat in the back. What am I? In the sixth grade?

Still he was relaxed. Smiling even. She repeated her statement as if he didn’t hear her the first time. Damn straight I’m in a good mood. Because I get to spend time with you… maybe even tell you how I feel tonight… He decided the overcrowded bus wasn't the best place for that confession. The vehicle lurched forward and so did the conversation.

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"I quit my job."

Her eyes widened and a slow smile played at her lips, drawing his attention to them. I bet they're juicy. He had fantasized about kissing her, ever since she planted one on him at this very bus stop twelve months ago when he shipped off to rehab. Out of respect for their “business arrangement” and friendship, he held off on the liplocking, but it didn’t mean he still didn’t wonder what it would be like if he had just turned his head to meet her mouth that night.

“Good for you,” she laid a hand on his shoulder.

Her gentle touch bringing him back to reality and away from his lustful la-la land.

“I knew that place was killing the light in you. I just wish I could've seen Morris' smug face when you finally told him."

"Light in me?" he repeated, ignoring the statement about his ex-manager.

"Yes," she slowly slid her hand up to his cheek, blushing a little while she moved. "You look better. Brighter."

"That's just the shower talkin'," he shoved his hands in his pockets.

"No, it's you, Shane," she replied, dropping her hand far too soon for his liking.

He wanted to beg her to keep it there, against his cheek. But present company dissuaded him, and he remained silent, nodding his thanks. The way she said his name... he bounced his leg a bit in nervousness as the bus bumped along the road... it made his knees weak and his head clouded.

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"Did I miss anything?"

Shane descended the last step, returning to their seats in the stadium, snacks in hand. The game was tied up, the teams neck and neck in their scoring with each other. It was one of the most thrilling games he had ever seen in person. Even more exciting because she was there. With her incessant questions about the rules. Her exuberance at the Tunnelers' first goal. Even the little wrinkle around her eyes when she didn’t understand what was happening. He loved every minute of it.

And he loved explaining things. Even if he worried about boring her to death with his encyclopedic knowledge of gridball, he couldn’t stop talking. This was something he loved and he was sharing it with the woman he loved... even if she didn’t know it yet.

"Only the announcer making bad jokes," she smirked. “And that guy...” she pointed to one of the pros. “...doing a silly little dance for the fans.”

“Yeah, he’s known for that,” Shane laughed awkwardly, feeling a small twinge of jealousy that another man had caught her eye.

“Not that he’s any good at it,” she laughed too. “Not like our little grooves in the Saloon.”

“Oh?” he quirked a brow. “By the way, I got us some nachos. I asked the vendor to add some hot peppers… just like we like it."

"Like we both like it," she said in unison. "Thanks,” she snagged a chip and did a deep dip into the sauce. “You should've let me pay for snacks since you paid for tickets and the bus fare."

"Naw, we're on a date," he shrugged. "The guy pays. Plus, I wanted to."

Shane averted his eyes, suddenly self-conscious. "Did I tell you how much… I l…love…. Gridball?"

She stopped and looked at him as if surprised by his old-fashioned thought. I shouldn't have been so careless, he grimaced. Then he immediately wished his face wasn't so readable.

It was a date. A real date. But somehow they slid from acquaintances to friends to best friends and then... somehow something more, without ever defining the relationship.

Did she want parameters? Did he need a label? Were they... ever going to be what he hoped to be if he ever got his head out of his ass and asked her for real?

"Yes, only the thousand or so times on the bus," she smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “And I knew you played in high school.”

Just like that, she slipped back to a more neutral topic. And he mentally flogged himself for the missed opportunity.

“Yeah, blowing out my knee pretty much killed my chances at playing pro,” he said. “Doesn’t stop me from enjoying the games though.”

“Have you ever thought about it?” she inquired. “Going back. Maybe the minors or even just a pick-up team. I bet you looked great in a uniform,” her eyes twinkled mischievously. “And I wouldn’t mind the view of you in those white pants.”

Red flooded his cheeks. Is she messing with me? How does she do it? Go back and forth between friendzone topics and flirtation? She made it look effortless. She was toying with him. She had to be. Dancing around the subject. Hoping he would ask. Or was he imagining things?

Her hand hovered dangerously close to his side. Brushing the hem of her skirt. Nearly touching his shorts. He gulped, feeling flattered, but strangely unprepared for her seductive little smirks. He handed her the soda he fetched, and she thanked him, gulping back the liquid as if it were a small instead of a large. Saying something about all the cheering making her thirsty.

He was the thirsty one. Eyeing her up and down and wanting to close the distance between them. Taking it from flirty friends to... faithful lovers. He never wanted a woman more than he did right now. To devote all his love and passion and energy and goodwill into being there for her just like she had for him.

For the whole second half of the game, he nursed his cola. Distracted by her every move. The way she would raise her heels in anticipation of a score and lower them back to the ground when they didn’t quite make it. The way she spoke with that happy voice of hers, the kind that could lull him to sleep or rally him to make his best efforts. The way she repeated back facts she was learning about the sport, that he had literally just taught to her that night. He was completely mesmerized... so much so... he forgot to actually watch the game. For once, he liked the distraction.

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When the Tunnelers scored again, she nearly flew off the ground, wildly cheering for their unexpected interception. He caught her hand as she was jumping back down. She squeezed it and continued whooping and shaking her fist victoriously in the air, never taking her eyes off the game. It was now or never.

"Hey," he said loudly to be heard over the stadium noise. "I've been meaning to tell you… thank you.”

“For what, Peaches?” she said, teasingly. “Did you see that? How many yards was it? Seventy-five? Eighty?”

“I mean it, really,” Shane cleared his throat, leaning closer to her ear. “ For sticking with me through everything."

She turned to face him, her expression growing more serious.

"My… anxiety… depression… you know," he continued, fumbling over his words. "The alcoholism… I mean, I wasn't exactly the funnest person to be around back then."

Did I just use the word funnest? He rubbed the back of his head, hoping to read her expression, but for once, he couldn't.

“You do that... when you’re nervous,” she remarked. “That head rub thing...” she reached up and ruffled his hair. “It’s... cute.”

“Uh...” Shane trailed off. She was not making this easy. But he needed to say the words aloud now or he never would.

"You… uh… still helped me. You've been a really… good… friend to me," he shared, and then immediately regretted his word choice.

"Oh," she said, quietly.

Was that a flicker of disappointment in her eyes?

He hurried his words. "Anyway this is your first gridball game, huh? Well? What do you think?"

Smooth, Shane. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Changing the subject again, you frickin’ chicken.

"Oh…" she said, glancing back to the field, sounding a little confused. "Fun. I guess, Pelican Town seems pretty boring in comparison. Unless you count Sam's punk rock blaring at 11pm, breaking noise ordinances." She forced a chuckle.

Is she…? Am I imagining things?

"I'm surprised," he replied. "Didn't you move to the Valley to escape the noise of the city?"

She's looking at me again with those beautiful heart-melting eyes. He rushed through his words.

"I mean… don't get me wrong. I totally understand. My life in Pelican Town is pretty bland, you know. And now that I don't have a job, I gotta find something meaningful to do with my time again. A guy's gotta eat, right? Heh?"

"I was thinking about that," she replied, without looking at him. "I think it would be nice to have you around full-time."

"What?" he blinked.

"I've got one ranch hand now to help in the back pasture and one that helps out with the milking and all, but if I'm looking to expand, and if they ever take a sick day, I could use some extra hands," she continued. "Maybe your hands?"

I couldn't. Possibly. Was she blushing?

"You've already… done so much for me," he hated the hesitancy in his tone. "I… uh…"

She ignored his last comment. "This would be a business thing. We could do it temporarily to see if you like it. And if it's a good fit for both of us. I can be a bit of a…" she narrowed her eyes, mischievously. "Hard taskmaster."

"Oh? Yeah I've heard that from your current employees," he smirked. "But you are still a jolly one."

"Yeah…" she smiled, almost shyly, tucking a hair over her ear. “Your Miss Jolly.”

The noise level in the stadium increased near ten-fold. All he could think about was how she said the words. She was begging him, wasn’t she? Walking right up to the brink and leaving him there? He reluctantly ripped his gaze away from the farmer to the field.

"Gah!" he screamed, his volume matching the crowd. "The Tunnelers are on the attack."

"Yes! Yes!" she shrieked. "Oh my Yoba! Final seconds. They're gonna…" she jumped up and down and clapped her hands. "They're gonna break the tie."

"GOAL!" they yelled in unison.

He never felt so happy. He was going on six months sober. He quit his horrible job. The farmer was offering him another one so he could see her every day. And he got to watch his favorite team in the world in the closest game in history with his favorite person in the world. Sharing this moment together meant everything.

"Thank you Shane!" she said, trying to catch her breath. "This was the best evening ever with you!"

"I know, I know!" he exclaimed. "Probably one of the best moments of my life."

Before he could stop himself, his lips were against hers. Surprise flickered in her eyes. All he could hear was the thudding of his own heart. She was flushed. The warmth of her lips. The taste of root beer. The delight overwhelming the alarm bells. He took a step or two back, stumbling as he came to his senses.

"Oh?" he gasped for air. "Uh… um… sorry. I guess I got carried away there. Maybe I had one too many... sodas. All that sugar. Ha!"

Shane reached up to rub his head like he always did when he was nervous, just like she had noticed. Except this time, she strutted toward him, confidence in her eyes as she grabbed that hand and tugged him down. As they kissed for the second time, he felt her melt into his arms as she offered a faint “finally,” barely audible amidst the roar of the crowd.

Encouraged, Shane grinned, hoisting her off the ground. She giggled and kissed him more fervently. Maybe he didn’t need words. Maybe he only needed actions to show her how he felt.

And she was reciprocating. A dream come true. Their eyes remained locked in a loving gaze as he pulled back from her lips. When he finally set her down, he breathed heavily.

"You really do love the Tunnelers?" she teased, disentangling her hands from his hair.

"No," he shook his head, determined not to let this moment go by. "I really do love you."

"Come on, we'll miss our bus outta here," she grabbed his hand and pulled him through the exiting crowds.

“Wait,” Shane pulled her back for one more greedy kiss.

She happily accepted, but he felt a fleeting ping of sadness even as they kissed in the stairwell, people pushing around them. He wondered if she even heard his confession. Maybe it's too soon? We just had our first kiss. She probably didn't hear me.

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When they reached the parking lot, the reality of what had just happened still sinking in, they were too late. The bus huffed away with a puff of smog. They had just missed their ride back to the Valley. And there wouldn’t be another one until morning. If he hadn’t been so carried away and enamored by his date, maybe they would’ve left the stadium sooner.

“Guess we should call a taxi,” she broke the silence first. “Or... actually... find a hotel.”

“A hotel?” he repeated, his ears perking at the thought of sharing space with her.

"Yes," she replied, without skipping a beat. "I mean, if we're gonna be stuck together in Zuzu overnight, we should get a hotel. A taxi ride would be really expensive and I don't think we have enough time to get across town to catch the train."

"Oh right," he said softly. "Uh… I can't let you pay for a hotel too."

"It's no trouble," she pulled out her cell phone and started scouring the internet for places. "And a hot shower sounds nice after all the sweat and grime of us in there,” she nodded back toward the stadium. “...jammed in like sardines."

"Uhm…" he blinked rapidly. You're a grown man. Get it together.

"This place looks nice," she showed him a picture after a minute or two, while he awkwardly plopped on the edge of the sidewalk. "And it's got a 4-star rating." She sat next to him, dropping her hand on top of his. “Oh look it’s got an in-suite jacuzzi.”

"Uh… sure," he shrugged, uncertain about what to do with his hands that so desperately wanted to kiss her again. "Well, that definitely was a good game."

"Yes, and it's going to be an even better night, because it doesn't have to end here," she smiled sweetly. “Since we’re getting a hotel,” she winked.

“Oh yeah... and we won too,” he stammered. “The Tunnelers, ya know?”

“No... no, I didn’t. Really? They did?" she smiled sarcastically, and leaned closer. “It doesn’t matter.”

“What?” he gasped, feeling shocked as her blase attitude toward his favorite team.

“I mean, it was great... and all... and their win was pretty spectacular,” she acknowledged. “But I feel like I won the lottery with you here.” She interlocked arms with him. “Did you mean it? Shane? When you said you loved me?”

So she did hear me! And the way his name fell from his lips caused his heart to soar and he found his confidence.

“Yes, I meant it. I love you,” Shane replied. “But I wanted it to be special. Better than this... stranded in a parking lot with trash all over the place.”

“It is special,” she replied.

“But it wasn’t perfect,” he grimaced. “I was planning on telling you when we got back... when I walked you back to your place tonight.”

His head felt hazy with love and desire as she kissed him again. This time, she draped a leg over his, pressing against his chest. He audibly moaned, leaning into the kiss. His hand naturally slid down her back to help her balance, and he squeezed softly, like he had wanted to for a long time. She matched his intensity with a clutch of her own, and he groaned again, reluctantly breaking their touch.

“I don’t need perfect, Shane. I just need you."

His heart leaped from his chest as she continued.

"I love you too. I want you.”

“Ahhhh... then let’s get to that hotel,” he said, the heat of her breasts against his chest creating a near uncontrollable fire within him.

“Fine,” she playfully pouted. “I’ll behave... Hot Stuff," she fanned herself. “...for now... since we’re in public.”

“Believe me,” he replied with a heavy sigh, feeling a healthy growth between his legs. “I want you all to myself.”

She giggled and tapped her phone. "Done. Got us booked.”

“That fast?”

“Yes, It’s only a two and a half block walk. Now… shall we?" She jumped to her feet and darted away briskly.

“Someone’s impatient!” he smirked. “What if I had said no?”

“I wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“Oh really?” he liked teasing her as she brought out his confidence. He started into a jog away, passing her on the sidewalk. “Well, I’ll see you soon.”

“Shane!” she laughed and chased after him.

Of course, he let her catch him. She playfully punched his arm, but then lingered. She was beaming. And he was too. Shane took her hand, looking down at the woman he loved, and smiled, brighter than he ever had in his entire life. She loved him and wanted him… just as he loved and wanted her.

“Shane?”

He wrapped an arm tightly around her shoulder. Tonight, he was going to make her fully his, and he would be fully hers.

"Yes, my Miss Jolly.”

475 notes · View notes

stardewremixed · 10 months

Text

First Kiss with Harvey

@nectar33n requested Harvey first so here goes. I’m not sure if you wanted canon or non-canon or if you wanted a female or male or nonbinary Farmer. I’m going with canon/female Farmer. I wrote a freakin’ novel so spoilers... haha! Once I started, I couldn’t stop. Hope you don’t mind.

It was the morning of the surprise. Harvey set his alarm for 5am. He knew the Farmer was an early riser, but he wasn’t sure how early. The night before he tossed and turned in bed. He was nervous. Not because of the height of the hot air balloon ride, but because he hoped beyond hope that today would be the day. Today he would confess his true feelings to the Farmer, the woman who stole his whole heart.

As a doctor, Harvey knew he could not survive without his heart. Logically. If she rejected him, he wasn’t sure how he would survive, except that he wanted her to be happy. And then it would be awkward at two thousand feet above ground if she said no.

Argh! Harvey had been paranoid about missing his alarm, and so he woke up at a half past four. It was much too early, but he slipped his glasses onto the bridge of his nose. Laying his head back against the pillow, he tried a self-soothing technique that had worked for years. Deep breath in. Hold. One. Two. Three. Four. Exhale.

After ten more deep breaths, his heart rate slowed. Still, when he tucked his arm behind his head, he saw only five minutes had passed. The time mocked him, the little red digital light aggravating his brain. Grunting once more, he resolved to get up, and mustered strength to swing his legs over the bed, one at a time.

It was too late to take it back. His invitation. He scribbled a note on a piece of memo paper from his doctor’s pad, asking the Farmer to join him right before dawn for a surprise. If he went back now, he would look like an idiot. He already felt stupid staking out her place to make sure she was in for the night before he timidly slipped the note in the mailbox.

Perhaps he should have thought it through more and used pretty stationary. Like the kind she always slipped in with her homemade jar of pickles. His heart always skipped a little beat when he saw a fresh jar waiting for him outside the Clinic in the morning. A sign she was thinking of him.

Or when she dropped by on blustery afternoons to bring him coffee, always when he was fading the most. The little hearts she drew on the cup sleeve brightened his days and mindset. Somehow she just knew he needed a pick-me-up. It was a sixth sense. As a man of science, he didn’t always trust the mystical, what others described as “gut feelings.” And yet, Farmer made him want to believe in a deeper connection to the soul, and to a Higher Power.

Farmer always checked the mail first thing. He liked that about her. She had her routines. He had his own. Predictable, and yet open to surprises. She shared with him once. With that same little head-tilt and charming smile that could sweep a man off his feet. Or in Harvey’s case stumble over his own two feet. He winced as he tripped into the bathroom and flicked on the light, wishing he had the sense to slid his toes into slippers before padding around in the dead of night.

Reaching for the shower handles, he turned the water to scalding hot. The heat would relax him. He liked it to feel like a sauna. His apartment above the office was modest, small, just big enough for him. No space for a bathtub, but he didn’t mind. He was usually in a hurry. Harvey yanked his black tee shirt over his head. The mirror was already fogging. He stared into the glass after wiping away some of the steam. His eyes looked tired. His hair was wild. And he could have sworn he saw a wrinkle near his forehead.

Perhaps he was selfish to ask her to be his girlfriend. She deserved someone younger. Someone who could keep up with her endless energy. Someone who wasn’t so preoccupied and could help out more around the farm. He wasn’t a “spring chicken.” He hoped the age gap wouldn’t bother her, and he assured himself that it never had before. She even confessed once that she was attracted to older men after one too many pale ales at the Saloon.

Removing his pajama bottoms and boxers, Harvey stepped into the shower before he changed his mind. He was older, but he was no slouch. He worked out once a week with the ladies - good cardio at Caroline’s studio. And he took walks once a day all over the village, sometimes twice a day if he was facing a particularly challenging medical problem. Sometimes Farmer joined him, and he grew to like her company. No, he ruffled shampoo through his hair, he grew to love her company.

Even with doctor-patient confidentiality in a tiny town where everyone knew everyone, Harvey could still vaguely discuss different issues he faced. She listened intently, engaged in the conversation, offering an encouraging head nod or smile as needed. He could tell she liked to listen to him talk, even when he felt like he was rambling. Her eyes shone.

Harvey puffed his chest out a little with pride as he soaped up, thinking about his mother’s insistence that he take vocal lessons as a teen. Learning Latin for mass (which helped in medical school) and singing tenor (for the ladies) paid off. His patients often said he possessed a soothing voice and kind bedside manner. Or one very special lady. He smiled to himself as he stepped from the shower and wrapped himself in a towel.

A half hour later, dressed, everything packed into a picnic basket, Harvey padded over to his kitchen to brew a pot of coffee. Even the particular brand of beans reminded him of Farmer. She grew a coffee plant just for him in her greenhouse so he could have his favorites year-round, and roasted the beans with the help of Gus at the Saloon. Her thoughtfulness knew no bounds.

A steady rap at the door downstairs startled him. Harvey glanced at the clock. Almost 5:45 a.m. He had checked the paper so he knew the sun would rise at ten after six. Was she early? He plucked his cell phone from his shirt pocket, but it did not reveal a text message. Harvey slid into his familiar brown loafers and walked downstairs.

“Evelyn?”

His eyes widened with surprise to see his elderly neighbor standing on his doorstep. She was bundled up warm in her typical red coat and the pair of black leather gloves her husband George had purchased to help her poor circulation. Her smile told him he had nothing to worry about, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Is everything okay with George?” he asked, stepping aside so she could step into the clinic.

George was one of his most temperamental patients, and frequently didn’t listen to his advice. It had taken almost two years for George to trust Harvey as a doctor. And even then, he grumbled about asking for help.

“Yes, yes,” Evelyn said. “He’s still sleeping like a log. The machine you suggested though does cut back on his snoring. I barely hear it anymore.”

She removed her gloves. Harvey nodded.

“I’m glad it was useful for him. How can I help you?”

“I saw your light. And I was up anyhow.”

She reached into her bag, revealing wrapped hot bread. Freshly baked. Evelyn told him she often rolled doughs when she had trouble sleeping.

“I thought,” her blue eyes twinkled. “You and the Farm Girl would appreciate this.”

“How?” he ran a hand through his hair. “...did you?”

She smirked. “I’m not psychic, Doc. I just know you. And you were running all over town this past week making special preparations for a ‘special’ date with a ‘special’ someone.”

Harvey’s face relaxed into a smile. “Oh I was that obvious?” He chuckled ruefully. “I guess, I was.”

“Relax, Doc, she’s going to say yes,” Evelyn said, reaching up to tap his shoulder. “After all, you’re quite the catch.”

At her words, Harvey felt his cheeks grow hot. Evelyn meant well. She truly was a “Granny” to the entire town. He managed a meek “thank you” and waved, watching to make sure she made it back to her home across the square. When he saw her residence light turn on, Harvey returned inside the clinic. Reaching for his coat, he buttoned up, grabbed his basket of goodies, and tucked Evelyn’s bread inside before stepping back out.

A quick twenty minute jaunt up the hill, Harvey reached the railroad crossing in no time. His heart felt light, even if his stomach felt full of knots. Evelyn wished him well, but could she really know the Farmer would say yes? As he was twisting the toe of his shoe in the dusty ground, wondering if he would “chicken” out, Harvey heard a gentle, familiar voice calling to him.

Instantly, he felt his shoulders relax. He turned to wave at her, then wondered if he was grinning like an idiot. If he was, she didn’t seem to mind. She walked toward him briskly, smiling brightly herself. Today she wore a soft green blouse and jean skirt, matching jacket, and her famous knee-high brown boots. As she drew close, he could even tell she had applied makeup - a little mascara, eyeshadow, and eyeliner. Perhaps even a light lip gloss. His heart skipped two beats. She always looked good, no matter what she was wearing, but he could tell she made an effort for him.

“How’s my favorite doctor?” she asked, reaching his side.

“Good, and you’re right on time,” he cleared his throat, hoping she couldn’t sense his nervousness.

“Oh for what? What is this surprise?” she inquired, eagerly, rubbing her hands together.

Without thinking, he reached over and took her hands in his own to warm them. He grimaced, almost immediately regretting it. His palms were sweaty. She would know he was anxious.

And yet, she looked up at him, surprise registering in her eyes, but her expression was welcoming. “Oh thank you. I should’ve worn gloves.”

“You can wear mine,” he offered, starting to remove them one at a time.

“No,” she grinned, shaking her head. “This is better.” Her fingers interlocked with his, and she squeezed gently.

He straightened and cleared his throat again, knowing with almost certainty that pink had breached his cheeks. “Look here it comes,” he pointed to the sky.

His anxiety levels skyrocketed as he realized this was the moment as the hot air balloon descended into the open field. However, her excited grip around his fingers and the look of pure joy on her face made him so happy. Harvey wanted her to be happy.

“Are you surprised?”

“Oh my! Yes!” she exclaimed, temporarily releasing his hand to clap her own. “But aren’t you afraid of heights, Harvey?”

YES! He wanted to scream, but he couldn’t. It wouldn’t exactly be manly. And he would never live it down. His heart pounded wildly. The way she said his name, with kindness and concern, helped him catch his breath. Harvey somehow managed to express himself, sharing about how he wanted this to be special for her as she had never ridden in a hot air balloon before. And he had seen the ad and knew he just had to surprise her. She was always doing things for him, going out of her way, and he wanted to repay her consistent kindness.

Marcello, their guide, gave detailed instructions about where to stand, how to operate the balloon, what to do in case of emergencies. Harvey had stayed up nearly all night three nights in a row last week researching rental companies with the highest safety ratings. He muttered this, and to his dismay, the Farmer heard, but she just smiled and told him how much she appreciated his thoroughness.

Harvey offered her a hand as they stepped into the basket. He thought his heart would leap out of his chest. Her grip was reassuring. She didn’t let go until he was securely in the basket and by her side. She flexed her fingers and he realized perhaps he had been gripping too hard.

“Oh sorry,” he mumbled.

“No, it’s okay,” she said. “I am happy to be here with you, and I know you’re nervous. To be honest...” she tilted her head to the side. “I am too.”

“Really?” he hated how his voice squeaked. He cleared his throat and repeated. “Oh really!”

“Yes, but I’m excited too, like...” she grabbed his hand again and laid it against her chest around her left breast.

He flushed, realizing this was the closest he had ever been to them.

“Butterflies!”

They both said in unison, and then laughed awkwardly. He dropped his hand quickly, feeling it improper to linger, even though her heartbeat felt nice.

“You ready?” she asked.

He gulped and nodded. “Yeah, I’m determined not to let my fears hold me back. I want to experience this with you.”

“Me too,” she nodded.

As they lifted off the ground, his jaw dropped open and his eyes widened. This was really happening. They had left the safety of earth behind for the unknown expanse of the sky. He couldn’t take it back now. He coughed and rubbed his jaw a bit, hoping she thought he was trembling because of the cold and not fear.

“I’ll... uh... try... not to get scared,” he mumbled, running a hand through his hair, and flushed hard, realizing he said the words aloud.

“Wow... you can see so far into the Valley already!” she exclaimed.

He had squeezed his eyes shut during take-off and ascent. Nervously, he released his hands from the sides of his head. In the distance, the sky faded from black to blue to a soft purply-pink.

“I thought I’d be scared too,” she shared. “But then I saw this view and relaxed.”

Harvey wished that was all it took for him to calm down. He held the sides of his head, feeling like his heart might burst through his temples. Then he remembered that he forgot the basket of breakfast... 1700 feet below. Could he be any more absent-minded? His fears... (or was it her hand?) had distracted him. He swallowed, thinking about her hand.

As if on cue, she looked up at him.

“Here,” she reached for his hand once more and squeezed. “I promise I won’t let go.”

He could kiss her. He wanted to. So badly. But he wanted his pulse to slow down first so he wouldn't trip into her mouth. She always knew just what to do or say to make him feel at ease. A kiss wouldn’t be appropriate yet. We’re not even dating really. I need to tell her how I feel if I can bring myself to look at her.

“Harvey?” she said, her voice sounding worried.

He squeezed his eyes open and looked down, but the terror flooded right back in. Before he could stop himself, he closed the few feet between them and dropped into her arms for a hug. A hug was okay. Right? This is okay? I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay. He repeated to himself.

“You’re more than okay,” she whispered.

He almost wondered if he actually heard her right. Did he actually say “I’m okay, okay, okay” aloud? “Wha? What? We’re up so high,” he gulped.

He felt so dumb. A man of a his age unable to handle heights, clinging to the woman he wanted to be his girlfriend like he was a baby. She’s gonna think I’m such a wimp. He felt dismayed. He could handle blood, guts, puke, sweat, and all sorts of bodily fluids, but heights? Why did I think this was a good idea?

“Harvey?” she lifted her arms to hug him in return.

Whether intentional or not, she was stroking the back of his coat.

“I wanted to impress you with this, but look at me!” he exclaimed burying his head in shame on her shoulder. “I’m a trembling coward.”

“Harvey?” she repeated his name with such tenderness. “You’re not a coward.”

“I’m not?” he pulled his head back, shock registering in his eyes as he connected with her gaze.

He saw nothing but admiration there.

“You’re definitely not. Harvey, I’ve seen you rescue injured people from rock slides and descend into unstable mines to pull out lost hikers. That’s not cowardly. That’s really brave.”

“What? I... uh...” he stammered.

“And you dove into the sea to rescue those little kids who got swept away by the waves during a sudden summer storm. You didn’t stop to think about your own safety. You just took the plunge.”

“I... I... guess I did. You helped too. And you frequent the mines way more often than I do. You have more than enough bravery for the both of us.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Doctor Harvey. You do a lot of things that most people wouldn’t because you care about your patients and about the safety of the lives of those around you. It’s a really admirable quality about you,” she encouraged sweetly.

“You do such nice things for everyone too, like helping bring supplies to the Shadow People camps deep in the underground. That’s really brave. It’s part of why I like you so much,” he continued, and bit his lip, trying desperately to stay focused on the sky in front of him rather than the slowly disappearing ground below. “I’m just not sure...”

“And today you planned this romantic surprise for me even though you are clearly terrified of heights.”

“Romantic?” he squeaked.

She furrowed her brow. “Oh am I misinterpreting?”

Harvey squeezed her hand. “No,” he managed, his voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t let go.”

She leaned into his shoulder, not only returning the hand squeeze, but wrapping her other arm around his from the side. Her hair smelled like jasmine. They stood side by side, and little by little, he felt his pulse slowing. He began to enjoy the peacefulness, the quiet of the air, the coolness of the breeze against his cheeks, the comfort of her presence.

“I think I can enjoy it now,” he said after a few minutes of silence as he tried to think of what to say next.

To tell her how he felt. He wasn’t a poet like Elliott or a songwriter like Sebastian and Sam. He didn’t have the adorable chickens she loved like Shane did, but he did enjoy a good fried egg every once in a while. And he definitely didn’t have the physique of the semi-pro athlete like Alex. He wasn’t the most eligible bachelor in Pelican Town. That alone nearly prevented him from planning this surprise for the Farmer today. He needed to stop comparing himself to others. He conquered this fear. He took the step into the basket and managed this far. Maybe he could manage the next step too.

“Oh... this is incredible,” he laughed nervously. “I think I can even see Mayor Lewis standing in town square.”

“Where?” she asked, leaning forward a little.

Without thinking, Harvey yanked her back to his side. He wrapped an arm around her, and snuggled her against his chest protectively. He couldn’t see her face because he was blushing hard. Why did I do that? He opened his mouth to speak when she suddenly shushed him. He frowned, only momentarily, but then saw what captured her attention. A flock of geese flying in a V flapped in unison by their balloon. It was a majestic sight against the backdrop of the rising sun. Oh! He found the courage to speak from his heart.

“Uh... Farm Girl?”

“Yes, Doc?”

He gulped. “Uh... we’ve known each other for quite a while now and uh...”

It’s now or never, man. Times almost up!

“I...” he could feel the sweat pouring down the sides of his face, even if it was cold at altitude.

She gave him the sweetest smile he had ever seen. Her eyes were full of admiration, encouragement, and dare he hope? Love? She leaned forward, removing any semblance of space between them, placing her hands against his chest. He felt a lump in his throat where the words were stuck.

“I... love... you too,” she whispered, finishing the words for him.

With two hands firmly placed on her upper arms, he leaned down, closed his eyes, and kissed her for the first time. Her lips were sweet, slightly chapped from sun and wind, but she tasted like... strawberries. His favorite fruit. He wondered if that was intentional. His senses grew hazy as he heard her sigh “finally” and he nearly lost all control. Her hands found their way behind his back and she pressed her torso against his, and his own hands slid further down her arms and around her delicate waist. He could hardly believe this was happening.

“I’ve... loved you... for so long,” he managed between kisses. “I... never dreamed...”

“Neither did I,” she said sweetly, reaching up for his neck, pulling him back to her lips eagerly. “I’ve wanted to kiss you... for so long.”

“I...” he couldn’t think clearly.

She was showing him new heights. His kisses deepened. He nearly forgot where they were as he continued with fervor. She seemed to enthusiastically return his desire, matching his speed and intensity with her own. Her legs brushed against his, and he felt weak. It had been so long since he felt this way, if ever. His knees threatened to buckle under the fog of passion, but he pulled back first, as the gentleman in him realized he needed to do something first.

“Will you... be... my girlfriend?” Harvey wanted to make it official.

“Yes, will you be my boyfriend?” she asked, her eyelashes fluttering happily.

Harvey never expected to feel so touched by hearing those words. “Yes.”

He sealed his answer with a kiss. “Yes,” he repeated.

“I love you, Harvey,” she sighed dreamily and leaned her head against his chest once more. “I am so happy right now.”

Harvey felt tears prick the corners of his eyes. He couldn’t bring himself to swat them away, as the heights still unnerved him and he didn’t want to let go of her. He didn’t want to let go of her ever. He calmed himself with a deep breath or two before replying. After a tender kiss to the top of her head, he said, “Me too.”

❤️

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