Ethan and Jacob: Wish You Were Here
by SalientLane
Chapter 8
Sunlight pierced through the gauzy curtains, casting a golden glow across the room where I lay sprawled next to Jacob in the bed we shared. The chirping of the morning birds was the only sound as we stirred, groggy from a day spent working hard at my grandparents' farm, then playing equally hard, romping through the fields and woods of rural Québec.
My eyes fluttered open first, my gaze landing on the peeling wallpaper adorned with faded maple leaves—a gentle reminder of the farm's sweet lifeblood. I nudged Jacob, whose tousled black hair was a wild halo on the pillow.
"Get up, sleepyhead," my voice was light, teasing.
Jacob groaned, a smile tugging at his lips as he sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. We swung our legs over the side of the bed, bare feet touching the cool, wooden floorboards.
"Look at us!" I couldn't help but laugh as I checked us out in the mirror. We were a sight to behold. We stood side by side in our boxer shorts. Our skin was tanned and peeling from the July sun, with faint tan lines on our shoulders from overall straps. Our hair was wild, dusty, and tangled, and our faces were dotted with freckles and smeared with grime. We had been too worn out last night to even think about a bath or shower.
"Wow, we look like real farm boys," Jacob joked, flexing his biceps and showing off his farmer's tan.
"More like two drowned rats," I teased, tapping his sunburnt nose. We hardly recognized ourselves after five days of working on my grandparents' farm. We had come here as city boys, but we were country boys now. Aside from our reddened skin, our bodies were sore and bruised from the previous day's chores. We had traded our crisp white school shirts, ties, and navy trousers for old, ragged overalls and worn-out boots. We didn't even wear shirts anymore, since they would only get soaked in sweat.
"Your grandparents' farm is amazing," Jacob said, smiling brightly. His eyes sparkled with mischief.
"You just like getting dirty," I countered, wiping off some dried mud from his shoulder.
"I don't just like it, I live for it!" Jacob exclaimed with a proud gleam in his eye. Of course he did. He was always the adventurous one. Jacob grinned widely at me, making pig noises, giving me a playful shove. We laughed together, loud and happy. It was the kind of laugh that came easily when he was around—genuine, unfiltered joy. I pretended to be shocked by the state of my arms, covered in scratches and stains. But, I had to admit, I kind of liked getting dirty, too. I blame Jacob. His happiness was very contagious.
"We're both solid pink and covered in freckles," Jacob said. "Our parents will think we're aliens."
He made a goofy face at me and I pounced on him, wrestling him back down on the bed. I must have caught him off guard, because shortly I had him pinned down and helpless. We were about to hyperventilate from laughing so hard. We got quiet for a moment, maybe a little too aware, and I rolled off him, quickly coming up with a new idea to distract us.
"Race you to the pond?" I proposed, pulling on jean shorts, a spark of mischief in my eye, "I feel like cooling off before breakfast."
"You're on!" Jacob accepted the challenge, hurriedly grabbing his trunks and scrambling after me.
Our laughter followed us as we bolted out of the room, leaving behind the stillness for the vibrant life waiting outside, under the broad expanse of the Québec summer sky, where anything could happen.
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