Serenity Falls(12)

Closing the distance between us, he leans down next to my ear and asks, “Why are you staring at me like that.” By the gruffness in his tone, I don’t think he minds that he caught me staring at him.

I refuse to feed his ego. He knows he looks good. Shit, even a blind person could describe the perfection that’s standing before me, so I choose my words carefully. “You clean up nice.” It’s all I’m going to say. He’s already caught me molesting him with my eyes.

A chuckle escapes him at my response.

“Well, I’d say the same, but nice wouldn’t be the word that I would use. I’d use gorgeous, stunning, captivating… sexy,” he replies with a cavalier smile.

“Aww… I’m sure you tell all the girls that. You ready to go?” I ask, laughing at his flirty ways.

“After you.” He waves his hand out in front for me to lead the way. Just as I pass by him, his hand catches my elbow, stopping me. “And just so you know, I don’t say that to all the girls. Just some.”

“At least you’re honest. I’ll give you that much,” I reply as he releases my arm. “Is Brantley going to meet us there or here?”

“There. He said he needed to take a shower and pick up some stuff, so I thought we could ride together.”

“That sounds good. Wanna take my Jeep?”

“Hell, yeah! Don’t get me wrong. I love my truck, but I’ve been eyeing your Jeep since I first saw it,” he says coyly.

“Ha! I knew it,” I shout. Earlier, I thought I saw him looking at my Jeep as if he couldn’t wait to get his hands on it. Then I took a look at his black Ford F-250 on a lift kit, and figured I was wrong.

“Oh, yeah? Well, don’t think I didn’t catch you eyeing my truck. Admit it. You wanna drive it just as bad as I wanna drive your Jeep,” he counters, laughing at my shocked expression.

I give him a curt nod, turning away from him. “Touché, Mr. Adams, touché.”

After driving down numerous dirt roads, the bonfire finally comes into view. Flames dance, swaying left and right, in the hot, Texas summer night. The sound of people laughing and singing mixes with the crackling of the fire as Randy Houser’s Runnin’ Outta Moonlight blares in the background. The soft orange glow of the fire illuminates the shadows as people dance in front of it. As we park, Wes looks at me, wiggling his eyebrows. “Let’s have some fun.”

With a wide smile, I nod. Adrenaline pumps through my veins as I take in the party. I may not be a big drinker, but I do love to dance.

The sounds of Boys Round Here by Blake Shelton blares from somewhere off in the distance. I crane my neck to look out the top of my Jeep, and then stand on the seat to see who it is. A wide smile reaches from ear to ear, and I start laughing. Figures. It’s something Brantley would jam to at a deafening level. His tires pick up dirt and rocks, kicking them back behind his truck, making it look like an Arizona dust storm.

The back of his truck fishtails when he comes to a screeching halt, and the smell of burnt rubber wafts through the air. “The party is here y’all!” Brantley shouts, hopping out of his truck and running around the front to meet us at the Jeep. “You ready to party, Kenleigh?” he asks, rubbing his hands together as if he has some kind of plan.

“You know, this isn’t my first bonfire, Brantley,” I say through a chuckle.

“Maybe not, but it’s your first one here. So, get your pretty little ass out of that Jeep, and let’s get you a drink,” he says, nodding toward the party.

“Brant, man, ease up on her, will ya? We’ll be here a while. I’m sure it’s more than enough time to try and get her drunk,” Wes intervenes, laughing at our friend.

“Yeah. Whatever. Look, since y’all are still sitting in the Jeep, I’m gonna go ahead and get a drink,” Brantley says, walking off. Looking back over his shoulder as he jogs toward the party, he shouts, “I’ll catch y’all later?”

As we climb out of the Jeep, someone yells in our direction, walking, or swaying–however you want to look at it—past Brantley. “No! Fucking! Way! Wes, man, how the fuck have you been?” The guy is a solid four inches shorter than Wes, and not nearly as built, but that’s all I can make out in the dim lighting.

“Hey, Reid. I’ve been good,” Wes answers.

“It looks like it.” Reid’s eyes roam up and down my body before he thrusts his hand out to me; I skeptically take it in mine. “Hey, there. I’m Reid, since he seems to have forgotten his manners. I’m this fucker’s closest friend. Well, until he moved away, that is.”