𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐘 𝐎𝐍𝐄 [a rini au]

three

The worst part about parties at the Matthew-Smith's farm was the smell. As Ricky pushed open the red doors of the Smir Shed (a nickname bestowed upon the barn by EJ while drunk one night, named for Smirnoff liquor and often shortened down by the group to just 'the Shed'), the scent of hay and manure mixed with fresh wood chips hit his nostrils like acid rain. He knew his nose would soon adjust to the malodorous scent, as it always did, but the initial whiff was invariably unpleasant.

"I'm gonna go make the rounds," EJ, who'd arrived with Ricky, announced. Ricky nodded his head in acknowledgment and scanned the Shed as his friend greeted a group of people to their left.

He spotted Amelia almost instantly, on the far end of the barn, red solo cup in hand and surrounded by about half a dozen people all completely engrossed in every word that fell out of her mouth. She was wearing loose fitted light brown pants, cuffed up at the bottom just above her Oxfords. Her sweater was a darker brown with a pale orange swirl, the base color reminiscent to Ricky of the black coffee he'd chugged before driving to the farm. Her silky blonde hair was slicked back into a neat, low bun without a fly-away in sight, and she wore her favorite black sunglasses propped on the top of her head. Ricky felt his breath catch at the sight of her, completely enamored. She caught his eye and smiled, waving him over.

"Ricky!" Amelia exclaimed, the boy's heart fluttering at the sound of her voice.

"Hey, guys," Ricky greeted the group as he approached. They were standing in a half-circle formation, and Ricky was proud of himself for being perceptive enough to recognize almost every one of them.