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It’s the hottest week of the year. The sun is high and bright in the sky, the air is stuffy, and even the slight wind feels warm. As Robert wanders the perimeter of one of the fields, his hand skims the top of the tall, dry grass, and he can already feel the slight itch of sunburn starting to develop on the back of his neck.
He can hear the water splashing on the concrete floor inside one of the currently empty barns and follows the sound, hesitating at the door just out of sight. Steven is inside, hosing down the grubby floor inside, his shirt off as he swelters in the late August heat.
Robert’s dad had hired Steven earlier in the summer to help out on the farm, and since then the two of them had become good friends. But lately Robert had been feeling strangely uncomfortable and nervous around Steven in a way that he couldn’t really explain.
He feels it again now, as he stands just out of sight, clutching tight onto the bottle he’s carrying, as he watches the young labourer work through a gap in the barn’s wooden walls. There’s a second gap in the roof too, that allows the sunlight to stream inside, and Robert can’t stop watching the way it falls on Steven, highlighting his bare, sweaty back, where the muscles shift and strain as he works.
That odd feeling intensifies, Robert’s stomach flipping and a heat creeping through his body that has nothing to do with the weather.
The plastic bottle Robert has carried down from the house slips from his sweaty palm, falling against the wooden wall with a loud thunk, and he immediately panics.
“Hello? Is someone there?” Steven calls out, pausing in his work to push his sweaty brown hair off his forehead.
Don’t be stupid, Robert tells himself as he reaches to pick up the bottle, you live here, you have every right to be wandering around.
“It’s just me!” Robert calls out, as he walks in, hoping that his red cheeks will be attributed to the sun. “I…er, though you might need a drink.”
“Oh! You’re the best Robbie.” Steven says gratefully. Usually Robert hates that nickname, and insists on being called Robert, or Rob to his family, but somehow with Steven it feels different.
He takes the bottle of water that Robert offers him and pulls off the lid to chug the cool liquid. In fact he gulps it a little too quickly, as some of the water starts escaping his mouth, running in rivulets down his chin and neck, all the way down to his bare chest.
“You ok?” Steven asks as he pulls the bottle away from his mouth, and Robert suddenly becomes painfully aware that he was staring at those droplets of water.
“Yeah, fine.” He replies quickly, wishing his voice didn’t sound quite so strained.
An odd, almost suspicious look passes over Steven’s face, and Robert rushes to change the subject.
“How’re you getting on with the cleaning?” He asks, grateful that his voice sounds more normal now.
“Yeah alright, pretty much done. Actually I was just thinking of taking a break, wanna join me?”
They spend the next half an hour sharing a packet of biscuits that Steven pulls out of his bag, chatting about everything and nothing.
“Did you want to hang out tonight?” Steven says suddenly, when their conversation lulls.
“Erm, like, just us…” Robert says, stumbling over his words a little. This is new for them.
“Yeah, I’ve got a couple of beers stashed away near the house, we could just chill for a bit. If you can get away from your dad, that is…”
Robert and Jack have been arguing a lot more lately, mostly over him working on the farm, but he hadn’t realised that Steven had noticed.
“Yeah. Yeah I’ll be there.”
--
Robert pretends to go to bed after tea that evening, waiting until his Dad heads to the pub before retracing his steps down to the barn. The sun is setting now, but the air is still a little humid, grasshoppers scratching around in the grass.
Steven is already there, sitting with his back up against the wall as he watches the sun set over the distant hills. He’s wearing jeans and a white t-shirt now, the fabric pulled tight over his broad shoulders as he holds out an open beer bottle for Robert to take as he sits down.
The first half an hour is normal enough, as they just talk. But then the conversation tails off, and Robert finds himself watching the last of the sun’s rays highlight Steven’s strong cheekbones.
Robert doesn’t know who leans in first, or whose breath hitches most, but all of a sudden Steven’s dry lips are pressing against him, and that squirming feeling in his stomach explodes into something much more intense.
It’s only when they pull apart that the panic starts to set in.
“I’m… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have… I can go…” Robert stutters breathlessly, his brain screaming at him what have you done, you idiot!
But before he can stand and run away, Steven’s hand wraps firmly around his wrist.
“It’s ok, I don’t mind, not at all. Unless you don’t want…”
“No, I do.” Robert says, only realising how true those words are as they leave his mouth.
After that he loses all sense of time, all rational thoughts lost to soft, experimental kisses that taste of cheap beer, and tentative calloused hands on the side of his face.
Once the sun is down, there is very little light this far down the farm, which causes Steven to pull back at last.
“It’s getting late… I should probably go.” He says, making no move to leave.
“You don’t have to…” Robert replies, throat dry, not wanting to lose this feeling just yet. “Dad will still be at the pub, Victoria will be asleep, and Andy won’t disturb us if we’re… you know… in my room.”
Robert’s heart jumps in his chest when Steven immediately stands, reaching out a hand to pull Robert up and towards the farmhouse.
--
It all goes wrong. Of course it does.
By midnight Robert is curled up in bed in a foetal position, his sense of shame stinging as much as his bruises. The tears falling as the sound of his father’s fury rings in his ears, wondering if he would ever see Steven again.
But before all that, Robert walks back up to his house on a warm summer’s night, a handsome boy holding his hand, and a smile on his face.
And for that short while, he feels free.