Heart of Gold – Chapter One.
Wade Kinsella x Fem!reader
Summary: You come to Bluebell for a job Lavon offered you, and yet, the Founder's Day parade turning into absolute chaos was never part of the plan.
Warnings: Nothing 18+! This is based on the show Hart of Dixie, so it's very sweet and Southern-style. Lots of tenderness between Wade and the reader. Movie references. Maybe a little bit of cringe! (I hope not). Slow burn, strangers to lovers? This episode is based on 1x02 of the show.
Words: 8.7k
Author's note: Hiii! I've been watching Hart of Dixie, and I got the urge to write a Wade Kinsella story, literally. So here we are, LOL. I really enjoyed writing this chapter, and I already have quite a few ideas in mind. For now I'll tag Dex (Benjamin Poindexter) in the tags, because I've seen people post Shane fanfics too, but I don't know if that would be annoying 😭. Either way, it's mostly because the Hart of Dixie community is very dead — if the tag bothers anyone, let me know, mwah (´ε｀ )
You still couldn't believe you were headed to Alabama; the "Welcome to Bluebell" sign was already coming into view, little by little. It was hard to believe it had all started just two weeks ago.
Your phone had rung in your city studio, and on the other end of the line, someone with a deep, enthusiastic voice was speaking. "Hello! How are you? I'm Lavon Hayes. I played in the NFL with your uncle. He told me... if there's anyone who can save the pride of a small town in Alabama, it's you." He explained, between laughs, that Bluebell was in the middle of a diplomatic and artistic war with the neighboring town of Fillmore.
At first you hesitated, because it was far from your city, and you didn't know if the town would be to your liking. But Lavon wasn't going to give up that easily (of course), and he encouraged you to come, even offering you a deal. He'd pay for a comfortable cabin and your materials, whatever you needed, as long as you showed up at the town events for the decorations and art.
After a brief negotiation between the two of you, you finally accepted with pleasure. After all, maybe leaving the city would give you a breath of fresh air, and maybe it wasn't so bad to step out of your comfort zone.
So here you are, driving through Bluebell, taking in the sweltering atmosphere and the nature all around. It was incredible, and really beautiful, truth be told.
Lavon had sent you an address, where his mansion was. As you parked, you took a good look before getting out. It was a completely white house, big... maybe with lots of rooms, but the first thing you'd noticed was the exaggerated heat everywhere, which made you take off your jacket, leaving you in a black tank top, which honestly didn't improve the situation, because the heat was still just as bad.
You were fanning yourself with your hand as you walked up to the door, but Lavon opened it before you even knocked, as if he'd been watching you from the window.
"Welcome!" he said, coming down the steps two at a time. "I was starting to think the folks from Fillmore had kidnapped you." He added, laughing. "Here, let me help you with that."
"Oh, are you sure? It's too heav—..."
You watched as he lifted almost all your material and luggage effortlessly, with a smile. Your jaw dropped before you closed your mouth. "Oh—oh, okay, sure." You said, nervously.
You grabbed a loose suitcase and started walking at his pace.
"Well, welcome to Bluebell, the jewel of Alabama. I know the trip's been long and exhausting... but I need to give you at least a tourist guide so you don't get lost," he said as you kept walking. "I don't want you wandering around alone and ending up in a lake with alligators."
"There are alligators?" you asked, in disbelief.
"Believe me, if you get into a lake, you'll find alligators. I love 'em." He confessed, enthusiastically. "In fact, I've got one as a pet. He's a cutie..."
You nodded, not knowing what to say. Having an alligator as a pet wasn't the best idea to you, especially if Lavon treated it like a defenseless little puppy.
"This is the plantation, my house, as you've seen," he added with pride. "If you go past those oak trees, you'll find the barn, which will be your studio. Don't worry, no animals will bother you. And then..." He pointed or tried to point to another spot. "That little cabin over there, that's your new home for the next few months."
You took a look from a distance. It was plain, rustic, wood on the outside. You liked that it was somewhat big, and yet, what scared you a little was the lake right next to it. And just as Lavon had said about the alligators, now you imagined them attacking and devouring you at night. A wonderful start.
(Oh gosh... the cabin is so pretty! It's like living in "Secret Window"... though if I'm going to go crazy from isolation, I at least hope my neighbor looks like Johnny Depp, I wish.)
Lavon had no idea of the state you were in; he simply kept talking enthusiastically. "The cabin's on natural land, very peaceful. And you won't be alone, of course. Next door you've got another cabin, Wade's, Wade Kinsella. He's, uh..." He tried to find a word that wouldn't sound too rude. "He's a good guy," he said simply, before adding, "Although it's hard to get him to work sometimes. One thing, if you hear music or people shouting from his cabin, tell him the Mayor has requested absolute silence. Seriously, it works 90% of the time!"
You pressed your lips together, filing that information in your head. "So, is he a musician or something?" you asked curiously.
"Musician?" He looks at you and shakes his head. "Not exactly... Let's just say he plays more with... moods." He laughs. That made you frown, not quite understanding. And he adds, "Well, he's got an old guitar that barely stays in tune, if that counts. But the noise is usually of a different nature, you know?"
You nod. "Yeah, yeah, sure. Nature." You said, with confidence and a smile.
(I understood nothing.)
Lavon held your gaze for a moment, with a half-amused smile, as if he knew perfectly well you were faking it. But instead of explaining, he just gave you a couple of pats on the shoulder and added, "You'll figure it out, don't worry. Come on, I'll show you the cabin."
Lavon kept walking, now pointing to a cabin just a few yards beyond yours, a little more... "fixed up," though it still kept that Southern touch. "And here," Lavon stopped, gesturing broadly, "we have your other neighbor. Dr. Zoe Hart. She just arrived from New York a little while ago. She's very smart, very urban, and if you have any medical problems, she's the one to see, believe me."
You nod again, watching him as you think. (Oh... she's new too. I'll go see her later; I'm sure she's feeling pretty lonely.)
"I'm sure she's lovely," you manage to say, smiling at him. "I'll go see her later."
You walked a couple of minutes, until you climbed the steps to your new home. He handed you the key, letting you be the first to open the door.
"If Wade crosses the line, just mention my name and tell him the Mayor's looking for volunteers to clean the barn. You'll see how fast he shuts up," he comments, watching you open the door. You let in a gust of cool air that, at least for a moment, relieved you from the stifling heat.
"You've got a fully equipped kitchen, with the basics. A bed, bathroom, living room... You'll be comfortable, I assure you," he said with confidence. He let out a soft sigh as he let you explore on your own, leaving your things in the living room while you wandered through the cabin at your own pace.
"Seriously, thanks for coming. Take today to settle in. And if you want, tomorrow I'll take you to the Rammer Jammer for breakfast so you can meet the rest of the locals. How does that sound?"
You opened your mouth, turning around slowly, with a smile. "Are there pancakes?" you ask, with enthusiasm.
"Oh yeah, there sure are." He smiles at your enthusiasm.
You smile back, and before he leaves, you remember something you'd prepared in a bag. "Wait!" you say, rummaging through your things until you find a decorated little box. You hold it up and open it carefully: cookies. You'd made them for yourself, and if the occasion arose, for others. It's a good time to introduce yourself kindly to the neighbors!
"Here, I made them. I hope you don't have any allergies; they're almond butter." You hold out the box with a charming smile.
Lavon stares at the box for a few seconds before smiling and grabbing an exaggerated handful. "Thank you so much! They look really good." And he tries one; indeed, they were delicious, since you hear him moan with satisfaction, closing his eyes. "I wasn't wrong," he adds, mouth full.
You smile back. "I'm glad you like them!"
He waves goodbye, going down the steps of your cabin as he finishes enjoying the cookie. You, on the other hand, were left alone.
You got to work unpacking your things. First, you added several cushions on a whim; you wanted to give the cabin a touch of yourself. Then, the rest was clothes and a few accessories, like little flower pots, a childhood photo of yourself, and your paints.
At one point, you looked out the window. In front of you was the lake, and everything else was a thick, slightly flowery garden. To your left was Zoe's cabin, just as Lavon had said. That's when you remembered you were going to visit her, and since the cookies weren't finished, what better than to offer her some too?
You took a deep breath, straightening your shirt before stepping outside, walking and feeling the earth beneath your sneakers. You carefully climbed her steps, trying not to stain the wood, and knocked on the door softly.
Zoe didn't take long to open it, looking you over.
"Yes?" she asked, arching an eyebrow and looking you up and down.
You felt small for a moment, but it quickly passed because of the scent of butter. You held the box out a little, showing a kind smile, introducing yourself by name for a few seconds.
"I thought I'd stop by! Lavon told me you'd also arrived a few days ago, so... since we're both new, I thought I'd introduce myself. I brought cookies." You say, showing them. "They're butter and almond."
There's a pause between the two of you. Zoe slowly narrows her eyes, with some distrust. "Is this a trap?" She asks directly.
"Excuse me?"
"Do they have poison or laxatives?" She adds another dramatic question.
"Uhhhh... no? No, they don't." You answer, with a nervous laugh.
"What do you want in return?" She asks again.
"Well... nothing, really. I just wanted to share my cookies with you, because, well, you're new. And I am too." You point to yourself. "Besides, they're really good, seriously." You hold up a cookie. "Come on, open your mouth."
"No way!"
You started moving the cookie like an airplane toward her. Zoe quickly swatted at you. "No, you're not going to poison me!" she said, pressing her lips together.
"I told you they're not poisonous!" you insist.
"That's exactly what a poisoner would say!" She keeps swatting at you.
You wrestled for another second, you trying to bring the cookie closer, her turning her face away as if it were a syringe. Until Zoe suddenly stopped. She looked at you. Looked at the cookie. Looked at you again, and let out a slight sigh, stepping back.
"Fine, fine. I'll try it, but just so you know... this will be the definitive test of my death."
"It's... just a cookie, nothing more. Besides, I'm not a murderer! I never would be," you defend yourself.
"Tell that to the judge."
You opened your mouth, offended and frowning. But you didn't say anything, because Zoe grabbed the cookie, examining it for a couple of seconds before taking a bite. She groaned, frowning a little, and then took another bite, relaxing.
"Oh, God..." she murmurs, in a sigh of satisfaction. You blinked twice, watching her. "Okay, it's good... really good... Would you hate me if I asked for another one?" she asks.
"Not at all." You smile, and grab another cookie to hold out to her.
She stepped aside, looking at you. "Come in," she said with a sigh, snatching the cookie. "Come in before the humidity in this place melts my hair completely..."
When you crossed the threshold, you realized you weren't the only one dealing with moving, although Zoe's method was much more... chaotic. There were half-open cardboard boxes everywhere, designer stilettos mixed with internal medicine books, and a couple of haute couture dresses hanging from the rustic wooden beams. A ceiling fan spun at full speed, making a rhythmic noise that barely moved the thick, hot air.
"Sorry for the mess," Zoe commented, hopping over a box to reach the kitchen counter. "I'm still trying to understand how people survive here... By the way, I'm Zoe. Zoe Hart." She gives you a little smile from the kitchen.
You introduce yourself again, smiling back. You leave the little box on the table, looking curiously at the medical brochures. "A pleasure. And yeah... the heat is hellish, I can't stand it. Lavon told me I'd get used to it, but I think he just didn't want me to run off north."
Zoe let out a dry laugh as she organized her things.
"Run off north?" She shook her head, pouring herself a glass of water. "Believe me, I was about to do it the first day." She takes a sip. "But, looking on the bright side... now I'm not the only one."
You settled into a chair, watching her. "So what exactly brought you out here?" she asks.
"Oh, to the town, you mean?" you answered. "Well, it's a pretty funny story, actually. It turns out Lavon is an old friend of my uncle's; they played together in the NFL years ago. Apparently they kept in touch, and when Lavon panicked because he urgently needed an artist to save the design of the Founder's Day parade float... well, my uncle recommended me."
You made a small pause.
"Lavon painted the situation as if it were a state emergency," you continued, moving your hands with playful drama. "So... ta-da! Here I am!"
Zoe was silent for a while, processing the information in her head. "The Founder's Day parade? I see." She nods, then sighs, resting her elbows on the table, placing her hands on her cheeks as she let out a sigh. "I wish I could be there... These last few days everyone's done nothing but make fun of me for confusing a tick bite with a disease..." she huffs.
"Didn't Lavon ask you to get on board or something?" you ask curiously.
"Of course he did. But... I turned him down." She hisses, squeezing her eyes shut, as well as her mouth, as if she regretted it. "I told him, well, that I didn't like festivals... But now, I need to go. I need people to see me, so they don't think I'm some... extravagant New Yorker. I want to be part of the community," she says, with some sweetness. Until she adds, "And that way I get clients for my clinic, of course."
You nod slowly. "Well... then... you can come with me if you want when I'm preparing things. I'm sure Lavon will love for you to participate; besides, he was the one who gave you the opportunity." You smile.
Just as you were about to add something else, a sound comes from outside, like a hammer blow. You frown, looking toward the window from where you were. Zoe, on the other hand, closed her eyes for a moment, her patience at its limit, lowering her head as her bangs slid across the table.
"Here we go..." she murmurs. She looks up, beginning to walk toward the window, taking a look.
You joined her at the window, pulling the curtain aside a little with your fingers. At first you saw nothing, just the orange light of sunset filtering through the trees and the reflection of the lake in the distance.
And then you saw him.
He was next to the cabin next door, leaning over what seemed to be his car. He had a broad back, his shoulders marked under a white T-shirt sticking to his body from sweat. The hammer went up and down with a precise rhythm, and the dry sound of the blow reached you muffled by the glass.
"There he is," Zoe crosses her arms.
"That's Wade?" you manage to ask.
And she nods, without taking her eyes off him. You didn't answer anything else, because just at that moment, he straightened up, wiped his forearm across his forehead to dry the sweat, and then, with a single fluid movement, pulled the shirt off over his head.
Time stopped for you.
You know those iconic American movies, where there's always a slow-motion scene? Well, that's exactly what your mind was projecting.
(Oh my God.)
He was golden from the sun, with the muscles of his back and arms defined not by the gym, just from hard work, literally. He wiped the back of his neck with his shirt, and then let it drop onto the porch without any care.
Your face was getting closer and closer to the glass. You couldn't help it. It was like a magnet. Like a National Geographic documentary about Southern fauna in its natural habitat.
(A little closer. Just a little more. He won't notice. He's not looking at me. God, those arms...)
Zoe watched you for a few seconds, frowning at your reaction, and laughed a little. "Yeah... the same thing happened to me the first week. You'll get over it. I think..."
You weren't paying attention to her words, honestly; you were just watching him closer, until...
BANG!
"Ouch!" You managed to say, putting your hand on your forehead, stepping back in embarrassment. What if the noise had now caught his attention?
You crouched down by instinct, hand on the floor, rubbing your forehead. "Did he see me, did he see me...?"
"I don't know, shut up a moment," Zoe murmurs, looking out the window.
From outside, Wade's voice was heard, with a sarcastic tone, as he approached the steps.
"Doctor! Was that your head against the glass? Because if so, you'd better go to the hospital, in case you fractured your skull."
"I didn't fall! My head is perfectly fine, thanks."
Wade paused, smiling sideways.
"So, are you spying on me? Because if you wanted to see me without a shirt, you just had to ask."
"That's disgusting... And besides, it's not necessary. Trust me, I've already seen all of you, and it wasn't that impressive."
What?
Wade let out a short laugh, leaning against the railing. "That's not what you said in the car, doctor."
WHAT?
Your head turned toward Zoe —well, toward her ankles, which was what you could see from the floor— with your mouth open. Zoe and Wade? Something had happened between them? Oh, she had so much to tell you.
"That... that was a drunken mistake," Zoe replied, crossing her arms. "I was desperate in my first days."
"Sure, desperation." He laughs under his breath. "That's why you called me three times afterward."
Zoe opened her mouth, but for the first time since you'd met her, no immediate comeback came out. You brought your hand to your mouth, stifling a laugh. The situation was too funny.
Taking advantage of the silence, Wade took another step toward the window. His voice sounded closer, clearer, as if he knew exactly where you were hiding.
"By the way, tell your friend she can get up. She's going to break her back."
Zoe turned to you immediately, without being discreet. You looked at her from below, and shook your head with a silent "no."
"I don't see anyone here," she replied, looking at him. "I'm alone. Can't you tell?"
He shakes his head, with that smile as he laughed. "Sure, sure... Tell her there's no need to hide. I'll introduce myself later, properly."
"Get lost," Zoe adds.
Wade raises his hands in surrender, delighted, and goes down the steps, going back to his business.
Zoe turns to you again. "You can get up now." You do so immediately, although you clumsily bump into a small table. You gently rub your head as you hear a sigh from her. "Do you want coffee? I'll explain this whole... matter."
You nod, heading with her to the kitchen. "Well, it all started on my first day, literally. It went horribly because no one in town took me seriously at the clinic. Besides, they thought I looked weird, which is absurd." She pauses, pouring coffee for both herself and you. "In the end... I got drunk and was in the street at nightfall, walking aimlessly. And he appeared... in a car, and what happened happened."
You drank slowly, watching her.
"Well, nothing really happened... No... we got to that point because..." she murmurs something you can't quite hear.
"What did you say?"
She murmurs something again.
"I can't understand you."
"I honked the horn with my butt," she repeats, embarrassed.
There's a brief silence between the two of you before you suppress a laugh, then start laughing out loud. You lower your head, covering your mouth with one hand, trying to stop the laughter, but it was impossible.
"I-I'm sorry, sorry!" you say, between laughs.
She rolls her eyes, not finding it very funny. "And besides... I was drunk! I regretted it immediately and left. Then, well, there were moments when I called him and stuff, but it never went anywhere because I'd regret it at the last moment..."
You nod, clearing your throat as you occasionally let out a few light laughs.
"But I don't like him. He's... irresponsible. Besides, he's slept with most of the girls, and he's very... lazy. He's awful. I'm sure, knowing now that you're new, he'll come after you."
"Oh... I see." You wave your hand. "But I wouldn't want to get into relationships now, or well, whatever that is. Right now, the important thing I have to do is 'work' for the Mayor and prepare for the float. I don't want distractions in my path. If he flirts with me, I'll ignore him."
"Well said." She raises her cup before drinking. "I wouldn't recommend getting involved, honestly, it's not worth it... Though I don't want to meddle in your life, of course. You're free to decide," she adds, to avoid misunderstandings.
You take another sip. "Yeah, don't worry. I won't do anything weird."
You continued talking calmly, until finally, at dusk, you decided to go home, saying goodbye to Zoe with a smile.
You went to the cabin, where you stayed until nightfall. You'd already settled everything, had dinner, put on your pajamas (shorts and a tank top), and brushed your teeth. You were about to go to bed, but something was bothering you.
It turned out that next door there was an incredibly loud noise you could hear from your window, like a guitar, plus music.
At first you tried to sleep, covering yourself under the blankets to not hear so much, but it was impossible. You stayed like that for several minutes, until you couldn't take it anymore.
You went down the steps carefully, barefoot, feeling the earth under your feet. And you followed the noise until you came to a cabin beside yours. Indeed, it was Wade's house. The closer you got, the more music you heard, and a couple of laughs, but you couldn't see anything. You knocked on the door, a little hard so it would be heard.
You waited several seconds, and nothing, so you knocked again, harder, waiting.
The door finally opens, revealing Wade behind it. He had a guitar hanging from him, looking at you. "Oh, look who it is." He smiles, looking you up and down again, without hiding it. "Nice pajamas."
"Thanks, uh..." You smile, frowning at that compliment. "Well, I came here because I need you to... turn down the volume in your house. I can't sleep."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa." He raises his hands. "You don't introduce yourself after just arriving, and you're already giving me orders?"
"Well... that's true, sorry." You half-laugh. And you hold out your hand, about to introduce yourself. "I'm..."
"Don't tell me, you're the neighbor who was spying on me earlier." He smiles, not accepting your handshake.
You opened your mouth, and all you could manage was a nervous laugh. "Oh—well—uhm... No, I think you're mistaken. I wasn't spying on you, I don't know what you're talking about." You say, lowering your hand.
"Oh, no?" He puts his hand to his chest, feigning disappointment. "What a shame... And I thought my neighbor found me interesting..."
"Well, interesting..." You murmur, not finishing the sentence.
"What was that?"
"Nothing, nothing." You shook your head. "Look, I just came here for you to turn down the volume, that's all. Could you do it, please?"
"Uh... no?" He says, frowning.
"No?" You repeat incredulously. "Just like that?"
"Just like that."
"Not even a... I don't know, 'sorry, I'll turn it down now'?"
He smiles, as if he didn't care. "The thing is, I'm not sorry, really. It's Friday, and I'm here with my friends having fun."
(This man is impossible.)
You shake your head, unable to believe it. "Alright, good night. Sorry for bothering you." And you turn around, walking back toward your cabin.
"Hey."
You turned. Wade had stepped away from the doorframe, looking at you with a different expression, less mocking this time.
"I'll turn it down. I was joking," he adds.
"Really?" you ask, with bright eyes.
And he starts laughing. "No! Of course not," he says between laughs. "Alright, good night." And he goes into his house, closing the door.
Your jaw dropped at the sudden change. Unbelievable. Simply unbelievable, that was all you could say in your head. You went back home, exhausted, and as you kept walking, you noticed there was less noise. Had he turned it down after all? you wondered. I mean, you could still hear the music, but it wasn't as loud as before, which was appreciated.
It seemed he had finally given in to your request.
You lay down gently in bed, able to sleep more comfortably now.
"I'm telling you, I saw a frog this morning!" you said, walking alongside Lavon through the streets. "I have to say it was really cute, but it almost jumped on my head," you add.
The morning had already passed; you'd woken up and the first thing you saw was a frog on your chest, literally. The best part was that it spent more than twenty minutes hopping around your house while you tried to catch it.
On this occasion, you'd put on a checkered tank top with straps, shorts, and sneakers.
"Well, I don't think that frog was poisonous," Lavon says, hands in his pockets.
You opened your mouth, a little scared. "There are poisonous ones around here?"
"Some, but don't worry, they don't show up often."
You look ahead, giving up. The route was calm; you could see three ladies sitting on a bench, watching you with curiosity because of your recent arrival, then talking among themselves. Then you could see children fluttering around the parks, playing. And at last, you arrived at the Rammer Jammer.
Upon entering, you took in the atmosphere. It smelled of bacon, literally. The rays of sunlight warmly illuminated the inside. You could already see three people at the bar, drinking coffee or waiting patiently for their drinks; in fact, you half-heard Lavon greeting people with warmth.
You sat at a table in the middle, watching him. "You already know what I'm going to order," you said, leaning your elbows on the table, smiling at him.
Right then a waitress, Shelley, came over cheerfully. Lavon ordered two plates of pancakes while your gaze drifted away. With your hand on your cheek, you kept observing the atmosphere.
Until you found him again. Him.
You opened your eyes for a moment. It was Wade again, but now, he was working behind the bar. Was he a waiter too? You'd imagined he didn't work, from what both Lavon and Zoe had told you.
"He works here too?" you say, looking at Lavon.
"He's got to earn a living somehow, don't you think?" he asks, watching you.
You look back at him from your seat. And as if by coincidence, his gaze falls on you, and he smiles. You smile back, before looking at Lavon, who was watching you with a raised eyebrow.
"What?" you ask, innocently.
"Oh, nothing," he answered, smiling at you.
You glanced back at Wade, then at Lavon twice, before looking at him again. "I'll be right back." You smile at Lavon before standing up.
You went over to the bar, leaning on it as you watched him bustle from one side to the other, attending to customers. Until when he finally has a free moment, he comes over to you. He slung the rag over his shoulder, offering a crooked smile.
"Well, well." He leaned on the bar, with his bare forearms on the wood, looking at you. "First you spy on me, then you come to my house, and now you're chasing me? I'm starting to think you like me."
You shake your head sweetly, laughing. "No, no, not at all. I came because Lavon invited me for pancakes... In any case, I came here just to thank you." You smile.
"Thank me?" He narrows his eyes, smiling at you. "What for?"
You frown for a few seconds. "Because you turned the volume down in the end. It was a nice detail."
"I have no idea what you're talking about." He laughs, cleaning a glass.
"Oh... of course, it must have been the wind. My mistake." You raise your hands in surrender.
"The Alabama wind is very strong. Don't underestimate it." He put the glass down on the bar and leaned a little closer, lowering his voice. "But since you've come to thank me for something I didn't do, don't you also want to formally introduce yourself? Last night you were left with your hand out and everything."
You laugh, shaking your head. "Right, I'm..."
"Wait." He lifted a finger, stopping you. Then, theatrically, he wiped his hand on the rag before shaking yours. "Now. Wade Kinsella, a pleasure."
You smiled, accepting his hand as you introduced yourself. His hand was warm and rough, and the handshake lasted maybe a second longer than strictly necessary.
"A pleasure, Wade," you replied, without looking away.
You glanced at Lavon for a moment and saw he was watching you —or rather, the two of you. Because your hands were still moving as if nothing had happened. You looked at your hands right away and let go delicately. And immediately you said goodbye to Wade, somewhat embarrassed. He simply waved with his usual smile, watching you as you sat back down.
Lavon raised an eyebrow while he watched you sit. "I'm not going to say anything about what I just saw," he says, starting to cut his pancakes.
You nod, also starting to cut them, eating alongside him. You had to change the subject quickly, because otherwise he'd start asking questions and you wouldn't like it. "Zoe told me she wants to join in on the float," you say, chewing.
"Oh yeah? I thought she didn't want to," he replies.
"Yeah, at first. But I talked to her yesterday, and she said she regretted it... So, can she join?"
"Of course, the more the merrier, really." He smiles.
The rest of breakfast passed without further incident. Lavon told you stories from his NFL days that you didn't ask for but enjoyed all the same, and when Shelley cleared the empty plates, you realized you'd eaten three pancakes without noticing.
When you left the Rammer Jammer, the morning heat was already starting to press. Lavon walked you back to the plantation and, before saying goodbye, pointed out the dirt path leading to the barn.
"It's all yours. If you need more materials, let me know. You can start whenever you want, although first you should wait for your partner, so I recommend you wait," he says, smiling at you.
You frown. "Partner?"
He laughs under his breath, like a child, as he turns around and starts walking to his house.
"Wait! What do you mean? Who is it?" you say out loud, trying to get his attention, but he says nothing. You sigh, and you don't see anyone around the barn. You suppose you'll have to go back to the cabin to rest and come back later. So yes, you did that.
A couple of hours later, when the sun was starting to go down a little, you decided to return to the barn. You'd changed clothes —an old T-shirt you didn't mind staining— and carried your paint box under your arm.
The barn had changed a bit; now there was some kind of platform in the middle, a mini truck with the back full of wires and wood... And among the straw, sunbathing, was your partner.
Wade. Again.
Seriously, who invited this guy?
"Wade?" you ask, narrowing your eyes from a distance, trying to see him, though the sun blinded you.
Wade looks up, putting a hand to his forehead to see you better. "Oh, if it isn't my partner." He gets up, brushing off his clothes and coming closer. "Good thing you came; I was just about to leave."
"What?" you ask. "Already? But we just saw each other a second ago. Besides..." you look around. "You haven't... done anything."
He frowns, indignant. "What do you mean I haven't done anything? I brought all this here. And that... exhausted me." He adds, with a touch of drama. "But back to what I was saying. I have to go to work again. There's... been a mishap with a coworker's shift, yeah."
You nod, believing him. "I see... Will you be here later then?"
"Oh, sure, sure. I'll be here later to help you, don't worry. Do you know how to tie those wires?" He points to the truck.
"Mmh... no, I don't," you confess.
"You just have to use the staple gun, literally." He puts his hand in his pocket, rummaging for something, then holds it out. "Here, this is the plan Lavon wants. It's a float with our flag."
You look delicately at the float, nodding softly. "Alright, it'll be a piece of cake. Don't worry." And suddenly you make a military gesture, dramatically. "I'll do everything within my power!"
He gives you a couple of pats on the shoulder. "I knew I could count on you. See you later." He says, then leaves.
You were left alone in the barn, with the plan in one hand and the staple gun in the other. You unfolded the plan on the worktable. Wade's design was... surprisingly good. Clean lines, correct proportions, notes in the margins in messy but legible handwriting.
You got to work. The wires were very stubborn, impossible to glue since they bent easily; stapling them was necessary to make the base. The staple gun jammed every three attempts, and the heat was sticky. But as you progressed, the skeleton of the float began to take shape under your fingers. You weren't even paying attention to how much time had passed.
Next, you grabbed a couple of wooden boards, plus nails and a hammer, and started pounding hard to make the floor. So much so that on several occasions you accidentally hit your hand —what pain!
You put a bandage on your hand and kept working, painting the base white, getting your clothes a bit dirty. At a certain point in the afternoon, someone called your name, making you turn around.
It was Zoe, looking more gangster-like, it seemed. And she wasn't alone; there was a younger girl beside her. "Hi!"
You greeted them with a smile, looking at them from above. "Meet Rose."
"Hi, nice to meet you!" she said. And you responded charmingly. "Likewise."
"Have you been doing all this alone?" Zoe asks, bewildered as she walked around.
"Oh, well, yes. Wade was going to help me, but he said he had a shift. But no worries! If he had work to do, I'm glad. He seems responsible at his job," you said, while painting.
"But I saw him in his cabin, playing the guitar," Rose responds.
"Oh," you add, stopping suddenly.
"Yeah, oh," Zoe crosses her arms. "You know what? I'm going to find him. I'll bring him here. I'm not going to let him get out of work. Besides, you've already done enough," she says firmly, turning around and heading in the direction of the meadow.
You get down from the float, trying not to lean any part of your body on the fresh paint until your feet touch the ground. And you look at Rose. Slowly, you hold out a paintbrush. "Want to paint?"
"I'd love to." She gently grabs the brush.
The two of you mutually began to paint the whole carriage, and later, you started carefully attaching various ribbons that represented the flag.
It wasn't long before you heard footsteps at the barn entrance. This time there were two pairs. Looking up, you saw Zoe, with her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised, and behind her, Wade, with an expression of discomfort.
"Wow," he said, crossing his arms. "You really have worked."
You hummed at his response as you continued painting and stapling various parts of the float.
Wade instead nodded, and then, to your surprise, came over to you, snatching the staple gun. "Come on, leave that. I'll take over."
"Why?" you ask, frowning.
"You're terrible at stapling these things, and besides, you're exhausted. So let me do it," he insists, without looking at you as he settles in to start.
You stay silent for a few seconds, then shrug, accepting his sudden change of heart to help. You went over to the straw in front of you, lying down while gazing at the orange sky above.
You hadn't realized that in the end, you fell asleep on the straw.
The next morning, the sun hits you right in the face, literally, the only head poking out of the pile of straw.
It turns out you'd fallen asleep, and no one had told you. You opened your eyes slowly, turning your head side to side, until you saw that the float was ready, decorated and everything! Only the final details were missing.
You started half-listening to a conversation between Rose and Wade —well, Rose mainly, because Wade was getting tired of listening to her.
"His name is Frederick Dean. He has two first names, something about that is so classic and cool. And my God... I saw he was reading Chew the other day, which is my favorite comic! But I didn't know how to tell him."
Wade interrupts, glancing at her sideways.
"Look, girl, do I look like iCarly to you? If I hear the name Frederick Dean one more time, I'm gonna glue your lips shut with hot glue."
Rose narrows her eyes. "Where is your sense of romance?"
Zoe comes in with several things in her hands, but she was coming for you, asking, "Where is she?" with a frown.
Wade jerked his thumb backward without looking up from what he was doing. "In the straw."
Your hand emerged from it, lifting as if to indicate where you were. "I can't feel my body..." you said, with a hoarse voice.
Zoe blinked. Then she looked at Wade with narrowed eyes. "She fell asleep here?"
"She dropped like a stone," Wade said, shrugging. "And before you say anything, you were the one who told me not to wake her up."
"Because she was exhausted! She did almost all the work herself," Zoe responds.
"Yeah, yeah." Wade raised his hands in peace. "It's fine by me. She's still there, breathing, alive and everything."
"It's not the first time someone's slept like that," Rose adds, taking a photo. "For my blog," she murmurs.
Zoe slowly approaches you, extending a hand and pulling you out of the pile of straw. Wade suppresses a laugh and looks forward, trying not to look at the absurd state you were in, but it was impossible.
"You look a mess," Wade said, now looking at you.
"It's my new look, it's called straw-chic." You do a twirl, theatrically showing yourself off ridiculously. You had straw everywhere, even in your messy hair.
"It suits you, in the bad way," he replied, while Zoe laughed along with Rose.
"Aww, thanks..." you say, looking at him.
"That wasn't a compliment." He smiles, shaking his head.
You laugh softly, looking at the float, and are surprised. "Oh, wow... It looks..."
"Amazing!" Lavon responds, arriving on the scene. "Better than I ever imagined. Wade, my friend, I knew I could count on you..." He chuckles. "And Rose Hattenbarger, well, since you're joining us, would you do me the honor of wearing the Alabama costume?"
"I'd love to, sir!" she responds, enthusiastically.
Lavon nods, until he looks at you. His face changes expression. "Ugh, heavens... But what happened to you?"
You wave your hand vaguely. "I fell asleep, it's nothing."
"What do you mean it's nothing?" Lavon looked you up and down with a mix of horror and amusement. "It looks like a scarecrow exploded on your head."
"It's her new look!" Wade intervened, not looking up from a wire. "It's called straw-chic. Isn't she modern?"
"It's... something," Lavon conceded, clearly not understanding the concept. "Well, go to your cabin, shower and fix yourself up. The parade starts in a couple of hours and I want my artist in the front row. And presentable, please."
"Yes, sir," you said, smiling at him. "I'll take a shower. See you all later." You wave briefly at everyone, heading off.
The parade was about to begin!
The mid-morning sun beat down on the main street of Bluebell, but no one seemed to mind. Blue and red bunting fluttered among the trees, children's laughter fluttered like birds, and the smell of sweet corn and cotton candy floated in the air. The Founder's Day parade was in full swing.
You had placed yourself in a discreet background, leaning against a lamppost. You'd showered, put on a light flowered dress, and gathered your hair in a low ponytail, leaving behind the straw-chic look to Lavon's relief.
The float was moving slowly down the street, pulled by a tractor driven by Wade himself. It was beautiful. The flags fluttered, the rugby ball gleamed in the sun, and Rose, perched on the back in the Alabama costume (which was, in fact, a bird), waved at the crowd as if she were the queen of the carnival.
"Look!" a child shouted next to you.
Rose spotted you in the crowd and gave you an enthusiastic two-handed wave. You waved back, laughing.
You felt happy in that moment, seeing so many people together and with such enthusiasm; it felt good. Better than California, truth be told.
On the back, behind Rose, were Zoe and Lavon waving at everyone. As soon as they saw you, they waved too, and you returned the greeting affectionately.
And behind them, in a brief silence, appeared the Hell's Belles float, led by Lemon Belle. Truthfully, her float seemed beautiful to you; it had floral details everywhere, and on top of that, a live dance! It was charming, like those classic period films. You applauded, more for the work they'd done, not knowing that that woman was the devil incarnate.
More floats came after, one with greenish and bluish tones, another representing a country... The whole event was beautiful.
However, at one point, something happened up ahead.
You couldn't tell exactly what, but Zoe suddenly said something to Lavon, going directly to Wade's tractor, and suddenly... were they struggling? You didn't know what was happening, but it seemed she wanted him to stop the tractor. And yet, Wade refused.
That's when things got out of control.
While struggling the whole time, the tractor veered off course, crashing into various festival items: tables, a bench... even a fire hydrant, which caused water to spray everywhere. The carriage moved across the grass, slowly getting damaged, until finally, the tractor stopped.
Since the float ahead stopped, the one behind (the Belles') crashed into yours, causing a domino effect with the following floats, sending several decorations tumbling down.
It was horrible.
You quickly approached your float. And God, it was in bad shape.
"Well... at least the rugby goal hasn't fallen," you murmured.
Suddenly, that goal wobbled, until it fell to the ground and broke, scaring several people.
Damn.
You slowly walked toward the street, observing the disaster more clearly.
"What the hell was that?!" Lavon was saying, looking down at Zoe.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I promise I'll explain, but please, just try to cover for me!" Zoe said, nervous and ashamed.
Lavon gets off the float, heading straight to his post, microphone in hand, and starts talking.
"Well, welcome to another year in the parade of..."
As you listened to him, your gaze went to Rose, who was wobbling on the float. You headed toward her, raising your hands. "Get down, Rose, I'll catch you!"
Rose crouches down trembling; you couldn't see her expression because of the bird mask, but you guessed she was a bit scared by the whole sudden situation. She grabs your hands and you help her down carefully. "Are you okay?" you ask.
"Yes, yes, I'm okay..." she says, voice muffled.
"How about we go with the others, yeah?" You try to calm her down, and she nods, guiding her toward the crowd.
Everything was chaos. People moved from one place to another, upset by the situation; some trying to help people from other floats, in case another accident happened.
A while later, when things had calmed down, the remaining people started cleaning the streets. The event itself had been ruined and "canceled," so to speak. Lavon's speech was excellent, of course, but the parade was not.
You found yourself sweeping up the mess, alongside Rose and Wade, who was looking over the tractor. And at an unexpected moment, Frederick Dean appeared for Rose.
"Hey, Rose... I saw the accident, are you okay?" he asks, looking at her.
"Yes, I am," she replies firmly. "Shouldn't you be with the little princess of Magnolia?" she adds abruptly, catching you off guard as you swept.
"Oh... okay," he said, confused, about to leave.
"Hey, Rose," Wade calls, looking at her. "Do you... have the latest issue of Chew? I'd like you to lend it to me."
Frederick turns around, watching her. "You read Chew?"
"Yeah, man, she reads it... She's practically the president of the fan club," Wade adds.
Rose smiles, "Except I think releasing issue twenty-seven out of order was really weird."
"Me too! I don't understand why you'd do that, especially when the USDA's suicide mission was so great in the eighteenth century," Frederick adds, starting a conversation with her.
That gesture makes you smile, because of Wade's intentions, and so you kept sweeping, processing everything that had happened.
"I'll ask you for it later," Wade says, stepping away from the tractor to leave them alone. And he headed toward you.
"Hey," he adds.
You look up, watching him before continuing. "Hey."
"Need help?" he asks, nodding toward the broom.
You shake your head. "Oh, no, no. I'm almost done."
"Good." He leaned against the lamppost, arms crossed. "Because I wasn't actually going to help you. I was just trying to be polite."
You let out a low laugh, shaking your head. There was a silent pause; there wasn't much cheer after the accident.
"What a mess, huh?" he says, breaking the ice, trying to get a laugh or something. But you didn't respond; you were focused on sweeping up the remains.
"I'm sorry about the float," he adds, watching you as you swept. "I mean, well, that you'd worked so much only for it to get destroyed... must be tough."
"Yeah... it's a shame. But oh well..." You shrugged, without stopping sweeping. "We saw it finished. It was beautiful. And during the little bit of parade that lasted, people applauded. That's already more than I expected when I got here." You smile a little.
Although you couldn't see his face, he smiled a little, watching you.
"You know what? Leave the broom," he says, coming closer.
"What?"
Wade gently takes the broom from you, starting to sweep himself. He didn't say anything about it, and you just stood there watching him as he swept up the remains.
"Thank you..." you add, smiling at him warmly. And slowly, you started walking toward your house.
Night had fallen over Bluebell quickly. The heat finally relented, and the song of crickets filled the silence over the fields. You were in your cabin, wrapped in a light blanket on the sofa, with your bare feet on the cushions you'd put out the first day. Tea steamed between your hands, and a box of saltine crackers sat half-finished on the coffee table. You weren't really hungry; you just needed something to do with your hands.
There was a knock at the door. Two soft, almost timid knocks.
When you opened it, you found Zoe on the porch. She was wearing the same dress from the parade, but her updo had come undone and her makeup was a little smudged.
"Hi..." she said, with a smaller voice than usual. "Can I come in? I brought tea. Well, you already have tea. But I brought..." She rummaged in her purse and pulled out a crumpled bag. "Supermarket cookies. They're terrible. I'm sorry..."
"Come in," you said, stepping aside. "I was just about to pour more tea."
Zoe came in and sank onto the sofa with the weight of someone who'd carried a whole day on her shoulders. For a while, neither of you said anything. You poured her a cup, and she took it with both hands, staring into the dark liquid as if looking for answers.
"I'm an idiot..." she finally said, breaking the silence. "I'm an idiot, I ruined the parade. And the town hates me..." she takes a sip. "I'm so sorry about the float, really. I can explain."
You look at her, taking a sip.
"See... there was this patient, from the Belles. It turns out she has an illness, and I flat-out refused to let her join the parade. It was dangerous, but she didn't want to hear it. So... I prescribed her some pills; obviously I told her to take just one, because they're really strong. And... it turns out she took more than she should have, which caused an overdose in the middle of the parade. When I saw her before she passed out, I tried to stop everything before it got that far. But... I just caused more problems."
There was a brief pause, and you hummed in response. "That makes sense... no wonder you were struggling with Wade."
She nods, staring into space.
"Listen... it's not your fault, really. And if you're wondering, I'm not mad or anything."
"But... you did the whole float for the parade..."
"I know, but that's not right, because we all did it, not just me. But the thing is, it's not your fault. You know what would have happened if you hadn't intervened? Imagine the poor girl fainting and falling to the ground. She could have had a concussion," you say, watching her. "You did what you could, really. And I'm grateful you helped her..."
"I wish people saw it that way..." she sighs.
"They will, just wait," you reply, smiling at her.
She laughs, her back falling against the sofa. "You know what I miss about New York?" She closes her eyes.
"Mmm?"
"Watching series or TV shows... especially sitcoms, I love them."
Your gaze slides toward the television, then back to her. "Well... there's a TV. Do you feel like watching some series... with me?" you ask, making Zoe open her eyes and look at you softly.
"I'd love to," she replies, with a slight, charming pout.
You hand her the remote, letting her be the one to choose. Meanwhile, you adjust the blanket, covering her completely.
Zoe turned on the TV and started zapping. She passed a news channel, a rerun of a cooking reality show, an American football game Lavon was probably watching at his mansion. Until she stopped on a channel airing reruns of Friends.
"This one okay?" she asked, twirling the remote between her fingers.
"It's perfect." You sank a little deeper into the sofa. "But I warn you, I know all the dialogue."
Zoe let out a soft laugh and set the remote aside. On screen, Monica, Rachel, Chandler, Joey, Phoebe, and Ross appeared at the fountain in the opening credits, and you hummed along softly, just to annoy her. Zoe rolled her eyes, but said nothing. And when you turned to grab another saltine cracker, you saw her smiling.
"Thank you..." she said, without looking at you, her eyes fixed on the TV.
"Nothing to thank." You shrugged. "That's what friends are for," you add warmly.
You couldn't see Zoe's reaction because you were focused on the show, but her eyes sparkled a little, as if having you confirm you were already friends had lifted her spirits.
"I'm glad you're my neighbor," she says, glancing at you sideways.
"Me too." You look at her, smiling.
Just then, Chandler's first joke filled the room. The two of you laughed quietly as the night wore on and the show played on.
