In the Lyrics (11 page)
“Touch me,” she purrs into my mouth as her lips part and allow her words to exit.
“Hensley…”
“Shh…don’t talk. Just feel. That’s what I’m doing, Colby. I just want to feel; for once in my life I don’t want to think about what-if, or tomorrow. I just want this, whatever this is, to just be.”
The last bit of self-control I had disintegrates at my feet as her words call out to me. My mouth presses harder onto hers as she inhales, filling her lungs with air from mine, filling her body with my soul.
We stand in the dark kissing like wild teenagers for what seems like forever. Our roaming hands explore one another, but we are careful not to cross any boundaries. My mouth starts to get dry and my chapped lips burn from being wet for so long. There’s no doubt that she is feeling the same. Once our lips break, things have changed. I know she feels it too, because this time she doesn’t run away scared, she leans forward on her tiptoes and gently kisses my cheek and then whispers, “Thank you for moving in.”
Her words are packed with more meaning than Webster’s dictionary, and the fact that I’m the only person in the world that knows their significance means I can go to sleep a very happy man.
CRAWLING INTO BED, for the first time in…
well, ever
…for the first time ever, I feel strange about sleeping in Dusty’s arms. Turning on my side, facing away from him, my mind does a recap of today’s events. I should really call my mom. I know she’d be able to put things in better perspective for me. On the other hand, I’ve always listened to her, and this might be the first time I don’t want to. “Don’t fall for none of these fellas ‘round here, baby. You know they’re all no good,” she’d say over and over again, until finally I just believed that she was right. None of the guys I went to high school with were any good. Other than Dusty, who doesn’t count.
I sat back for four years and watched them run through the girls in our school and even when they’d dated all of them, they’d start back and go through them again. The girls just laughed; they thought they actually meant something and they believed their lies and stories about how they couldn’t live without them. It made me want to barf, and it was then that I knew my momma was right. There was no way in hell I was going to let one of them trick me into dating them or sleeping with them. I remember she’d say, “You’re so talented, baby, you don’t want to go and get yourself in no trouble and be stuck here, do ya?” I know why she pushed me and my talent so much. It’s not that she doesn’t believe in me and my music, because she does. But more importantly she knows it is my way out of here – unlike her.
Hearing Colby’s door shut, I wonder what he is thinking about as he lays in bed. My heart hopes it’s me, but my head is pulling me in another direction. I wish things were easier. Maybe if he would have moved here in high school, if we could have grown up together the way Dusty and I did, things would be different. He’d understand my reasons for wanting to flee. He’d see that it’s not so much my dream, but my mom’s. I single-handedly changed her life. While she tries to appease me and tell me she wanted me all along, I know I was a surprise, a fork in the road, one that led her away from her dream of singing in front of millions to a kitchen making bottles and preparing meals.
Dusty’s warm hand wraps around my arm and pulls me towards his chest. Closing my eyes, I pretend it’s Colby’s arms holding me and his breath breathing down my neck. I know it’s all kinds of wrong to want him, but I can’t help it. I tried so hard to keep these feelings at bay. I don’t know him all that well, or at all really, but what I do know I like.
Oh my God.
I like Colby. The realization hits me like a ton of bricks. I’ve never allowed myself to be in ‘like’ with someone, ever. Sure, I’ve been attracted to guys, but that’s been it. Colby’s my first of many things. First kiss, first real crush, first time I felt like I wanted to rip someone’s clothes off and have my wicked way with them. Although it’s dark and the middle of the night, I feel my cheeks redden as I drift off into a peaceful slumber, dreaming about the boy who’s steeling my heart, lying across the hall.
THE DAYS GET hotter as July approaches, marking the two-week mark since Colby came into my life and unexpectedly turned my world upside down. While we’ve gone without any other kissing incidents, it’s hard to keep my wandering eyes to myself when he’s been shirtless on the farm nearly every day. I’ve even caught Mrs. Blair fanning herself a few times. It’s weird because since we kissed that one day, we’ve both acted like nothing happened. Maybe it was a fluke or something. Or maybe he’s just into leading girls on?
We’ve all sort of fallen into a routine, and he and Dusty seem to be getting along really well too. They’ve started recording some music together, and I have to admit they sound pretty good, but need a female voice. So I agreed to play with them. I figure why not, we all three have a passion for country music, and it will do us all good to use the time practicing and improving our skills. This is my first time playing with anyone other than Dusty, and I know I’ve been giving Colby a tough time, but he’s good. Like really good – which is really bad, because it only makes me that much more attracted to him.
Joshua’s even taken a liking to Colby since he’s been coming with me to my shifts at the riding center. It pisses Logan off knowing that another man’s teaching his kids, on his own farm, I’m sure. Really he despises Colby, and he doesn’t attempt to hide it. I can’t blame him. I mean, not only is Colby better looking than he is, but he’s better with the kids, and that’s what matters. I’ve known Logan since I was big enough to reach the stirrups on a saddle, so I can read him like a book.
Logan was the football team’s star quarterback, and if you know anything about small town USA, you know the team’s quarterback is like the president. Everyone loves him and fears him. He and Brittani ruled our high school, but unlike the devil in Prada, Logan took up for me. Mrs. Blair said it’s ‘cause he’s always had a thing for me. I trust him, though, despite him being a walking douchebag most of the time. He’s still one of my only two friends. Which is why I chose to forgive him when he called me begging.
I hope I don’t regret it.
“YEAH, DUDE, I won’t be able to make it. Stevie has me mopping floors,” I huff into the receiver of my cell phone, annoyed that I had to take this job. The plus side is Dusty and Hensley both work here. So in reality it’s not that bad, despite the fact that I smell like a walking French fry when I leave every night. Not many people can say they work with their friends.
I hold my phone up with my shoulder so I can use both hands to push the mop, as Dusty says, “Just come out when you’re done. I’ll ride with Hensley. No biggie.”
“All right, sounds good. I wanna shower first so I don’t smell like this damn place.” Sniffing the air around me, it smells of hamburgers and dirty mop water. The mix isn’t a pleasant one, trust me on that.
“All right, dude, see ya…”
“Wait,” I stop him before he has a chance to hang up. “Would you mind telling Hensley I’m gonna be late?” We’ve been in kind of a strange place lately. Not that I have to check in with her or let her know I’m coming, but I want to.
He laughs. “Yeah, I’ll tell her. But, dude?”
Grasping the phone with my hand to steady it against my ear, I say, “What’s up?”
“This isn’t really her scene, you know? I mean, these people, they’re all Logan and Brittani’s friends. We didn’t hang out with most of them in high school.”
“As long as they’re cool people, I’m down with whatever,” I shrug.
“What I mean is just cut Hensley some slack. She might not be comfortable being there, and she might not act like herself because of it.” He pauses. “Okay, I’m just gonna come out and say it. She’s most likely going to be a bitch. She doesn’t want to be there, but is going because I want to go. Since it’s on Logan’s parents’ farm, she knows Brittani and her posse will most likely be there, and well, from what you’ve heard, she hates Brittani. No, actually ‘hate’ isn’t a strong enough word.”
“Sounds like she’s some wing-woman,” I joke, trying to make light of the sudden seriousness.
“All right, see ya tonight. Just holler if you need directions. Oh, wait. You know where it is. Don’t turn on the road that leads you to the center, but go about a mile down and you’ll see an old beat up red truck. Turn there and follow the road until it ends. You’ll see us,” he instructs.
“All right,” I disconnect the line and finish mopping.
AN HOUR AND a half later, I clock out and leave. Hopping in my truck, I drive home to get a quick shower. The house is dark and quiet with no one here. Using the silence as an opportunity, I dial my parents’ phone number, but it goes to voicemail. Momma’s probably cleaning and Pop’s probably passed out. I throw on my baseball cap and am out the door in about thirty minutes.
A short drive later, and as promised, there’s a red beater parked at the end of a road. Turning onto it, I follow the path until I see a group of people. Music is blaring from the speakers of diesel trucks all parked in a circle. In the middle of the circle there is a group of girls, all blonde. Steering clear of that crowd, I pull my truck over towards where Hensley’s car is and put it in park. Getting out, I do a once over and see if I can find either her or Dusty.
My eyes are immediately drawn to her. She’s sitting in a fold up chair with her guitar on her lap. I’ve only seen her in shorts a handful of times, but tonight she looks stunning. From where I’m standing the fire’s flame casts a nice glow on her exposed legs. She’s sitting with her legs crossed, supporting her guitar, and wearing cowboy boots. Not the ones Brittani wears that you can tell just came out of a box. No, Hensley’s are real and very much worn. It makes her look all the better knowing that she’s a real cowgirl and not some wanna-be poser. There are about five people all huddled around her, listening to her as she sings. Slowly I walk up beside her and kneel down in the grass. I don’t want to disturb her or cause her to lose focus. Not that the sight of me would make her sing off-key, but I know it would me.