Ohohoho.

Happy birthday, LoquaciousStar. Also, thanks for the birthday/graduation wishes from everyone! This is my gift to you all.

CHAPTER STATS

Word Count (excluding A/N): 1312

Date Updated: 5-15-13

Current Review Count: 729

Vaughn sighed as his boat pulled up to the dock on Sunny Island. The encounter with Chelsea's mom had really left him frazzled. Should he tell Chelsea, or would that be too stressful for her right now? If he didn't tell her, would it be like he was lying to her?

He sighed again, his mouth set in an irritated scowl. As he picked up his bag and walked down the dock, he couldn't help but think that that damn farmer was an awful lot of trouble. All that stress he had because of her—it was unbelievable.

His boat had come in pretty late already, but he didn't feel the need to rush over to Mirabelle's. He just walked a little ways on the sand, set down his bag, and looked out over the water. He was dying to talk to Chelsea—to see how she was holding up—but he was also kind of dreading it because of that dilemma with her mom.

He brought his gloved hand up to rub his face. Being in love was exhausting.

"Vaughn!"

Vaughn cringed at the voice. It looked like he wouldn't have to agonize over whether or not to go find her—she'd found him. He heard her boots in the sand as she ran and he turned around just in time for her to run right into him, nearly knocking the wind out of him. Her arms wrapped around him tightly and he staggered backwards to keep his balance.

"Chelsea—" He looked down at her and saw how bad she looked. He didn't even have a chance to feel embarrassed at their contact before concern washed over him entirely. He put his hands on her shoulders and took a step back to survey her ridiculously ill appearance. "What'n the hell have you been doin'—starvin' yourself?"

She blushed—at least she had some color in her face, Vaughn thought sarcastically—and she looked down at her boots. She nervously wrung her blistered, raw hands in front of her.

"Chels," Vaughn said, making a concerted effort not to sound harsh, "what've you been doin'?"

"Working," she replied, just as simple as that.

"Workin' too much," Vaughn shook his head. He moved to drop his hands from her shoulders, but she swayed dangerously without his support. "Have you been eatin'? Sleepin'?"

She nodded.

"Enough?"

She didn't reply.

"Chels." He sighed through his nose. She was going to kill herself, and then what would he do?

He shuddered internally at the thought.

"Vaughn," Chelsea said, looking up at him with those eyes of hers. They looked remarkably brighter than they'd been the last few times he'd seen her, despite her physical appearance. "I'm sorry."

He rolled his eyes. "Just get some more sleep and—"

"No," she shook her head. "I'm sorry for running away. For leaving you."

His head jerked back slightly in surprise, unsure how to react at this sudden shift in the conversation.

The air grew thick.

When he didn't respond immediately, she continued, looking at the ground. "I was wrong. I was overreacting and I should have realized that even though we weren't on the best of terms, I should have considered the effects of my actions more before I just ran. I mean, maybe I'm wrong, but it had to have hurt you—I like to think we're really close and for me to just run away like that after you trusted me—"

"It's fine, Chelsea."

"No, it's not," she shook her head, looking back up at him. "It's really not. I apologized to you before, but I don't think that covered it. You mean a lot to me, Vaughn. Our friendship is one of the most important things in my life."

He cringed.

She realized what she'd said.

Friendship.

"I—I mean," she frantically spoke, trying to de-friendzone the cowboy in front of her. "Friendship in general is one of the most important things—like all the friends I've made on the island—not just you—er, I mean, you're more important than them. Well, no, no, no, not more important—I mean, you're just, uh, different from them. Our frien—relationship, I mean, is, um, different from… uh, yeah…"

Vaughn just stared blankly at her as she rambled nervously, her face turning more and more red as the words tumbled out of her mouth. She obviously realized what she'd said and what it had implied, and now she was obviously trying to undo it, to give a different impression. He used to be too dense to realize that, but now it was so incredibly clear to him.

The impression that she was trying to give was that they weren't just friends.

She liked him, and judging by the color of her face, she liked him a lot. He was sure of it even though he had no idea why he should be. It was just a feeling, and he trusted it.

He took a step closer to her, effectively shutting her up. He looked down at her, and she looked up at him. Their eyes met.

Her eyes told him I like you, I like you, I like you.

Kiss me.

Her eyelids dropped down heavily and her face was close and he started to close his eyes and stoop down just a little bit, and he felt her breath hitting his chin as she exhaled and he tilted his head just slightly to the right and parted his lips slightly and then—

"Ey! Chelsea, Vaughn!"

They both jerked forward, Denny's voice pulling them out of their trance and sending their foreheads colliding into one another.

Vaughn let go of Chelsea's shoulders like they were burning him through his gloves, and she stumbled back into the sand, landing on her rear.

Denny slowed his jog as he approached them, looking between the two of them quizzically. "Sorry guys, I didn't mean to—"

"Oh no no no, Denny," Chelsea laughed nervously as she scrambled up, wobbling dangerously until Vaughn's hand steadied her. She glanced over at it and he removed it quickly, both of them averting their gazes from each other once more, like they were kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

Denny raised his eyebrows at their matching beet-red complexions. "Riiiight. Well, I was going to see if either of you wanted to go fishing, but Chels—you look a bit worn out. I'm sure Vaughn was about to help you get home, right, man?"

Vaughn didn't reply, just soundlessly picked up his bag and started walking back towards town.

Chelsea and Denny watched him go, both a little bit surprised, but then again, neither of them really surprised.

He stopped at the edge of the sand and the cobblestone and looked over his shoulder. "Y'comin' or not, Chels?"

She blinked and hurried after him as quickly as her jelly legs would carry her. He didn't speak at all on the entire walk back to her ranch—in fact, the only time he acknowledged her was when he'd occasionally reach over to steady her—but she was absolutely fine with that. They finally made it back to her door in the late evening light, the awkwardness and tension still so thick Chelsea thought she would drown in it.

"See you tomorrow, Vaughn," she said, giving him a little smile, her face still pink.

He tipped his hat to her, nodding once before turning back to go to work.

Sighing, she leaned against the doorframe and watched him disappear down the path. The butterflies in her stomach fluttered all the way up to her throat and back down in a flurry. She felt lightheaded—and not just from the hard labor she'd been doing all day. She hoped that next time, they'd finish what they'd started.

After all, third time's the charm.

Oh snap. So close, but so far. Deja vu to chapter 30, anyone? Ahahaha. I love this chapter.

I haven't written the next one yet, but I know what's going to happen the entire season of summer in the story and I'm so stoked. I'll be going to Disneyland/California Adventure tomorrow for Grad Nite and we won't get back until Friday morning at like 5am. That means I don't think I'll even be able to reply to your reviews until sometime late Friday evening, let alone write the next chapter. I'll see what I can do this weekend, though! Let me know what you thought of this chapter. What does it mean for our farmer and cowboy? Review and tell me your thoughts! (: