Page 66 of Strange Love

“How do your grandparents manage to take care of everything?” Ivy asks.

“That’s part of the reason I’m here,” she says, her voice conveying mystery and intrigue.

“Is there any animal we need to be aware of?” Landry asks with a laugh, his eyes bright with curiosity.

“Buzzy can be particular,” Kerri answers, her expression turning serious, “and Vincent is a little aggressive.”

“Are those your grandparents’ names?” I ask with a chuckle, my lips curling into a smile at the thought.

“No, Silly,” Kerri laughs, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Who the hell are Buzzy and Vincent?” Landry asks, now wide-eyed and invested in this conversation.

“Buzzy is my chicken. She’s really old and can be persnickety, which is strange because she’s a Silkie, and they are usually very docile. It’s probably because she’s nearly blind. But she’s not too bad, come to think of it. You really should only be wary of Vincent van Goat and Colonel Cocky,” she explains, her tone filled with both affection and warning.

I nearly swerve off the road because I’m laughing so hard at the names of these (apparently mean) farm animals.

“What the hell is going on at your farm?” I exclaim through gasps of laughter.

“It’s just a normal farm,” Kerri says with an adorably clueless shrug, unaware of how comical her statement sounds.

“How can you tell which animals are which?” Landry asks, his interest piqued by anything Kerri talks about.

“Well, Vincent van Goat is missing an ear—,” Kerri begins before being interrupted by Landry’s snickers.

“Naturally,” he says with a smirk, trying his best not to burst into laughter.

“And Colonel Cocky is a big white rooster, and he’s territorial. But most of his feathers have fallen out. The vet says it’s due to his anxiety. So he’s more pink than white right now,” Kerri finishes with a small giggle.

“Are any of your animals normal,” I ask with a chuckle.

“Most of them,” Kerri responds thoughtfully. “Only Buzzy, Vincent, and The Colonel have problems.”

Our laughter rings out as we pull into the driveway next to Taz’s car.

“What’s so funny?” Taz asks, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

“We have to keep a lookout for one-eared goats and massive pink cocks tonight,” Landry chimes in between gasps of amusement, leaning against the car for support.

Sascha rolls her eyes, and with a dry tone says, “Always on the lookout for those.”

Kerri’s cheerful voice cuts through our laughter, “Come on, let’s head over to the barn.” We follow her, the moon casting a golden glow over everything, illuminating our path toward the rustic wooden structure.

The smell of hay and animals fills our nostrils as we enter. It’s a large space, and in the center, her grandparents have set up outdoor furniture for us to use, and there’s a stack of sleeping bags in the corner.

Taz hoists his heavy duffle bag off his shoulder and drops it with a thud. He rummages through the contents, pulling out a case of cheap beer, bottles of sweet Boone’s Farm wine, and a six-pack of vibrantly colored wine coolers. Excited chatter fills the air as everyone rushes to change into comfortable clothes from their bags before meeting back at the designated sitting area.

Ivy wraps herself in a thick, knitted wool blanket and selects a wine cooler before snuggling up next to me. We spend what feels like hours laughing and reminiscing about the year, our voices carrying through the stillness of the night.

It’s colder with each passing minute, and Ivy nudges me, her breath soft against my ear as she murmurs her desire to be alone. My mind is racing with nerves, like the anticipation before a big hockey game. We briefly had the sex talk, and I know it’s on Ivy’s mind. I’ve hesitated because I’m leaving and would never want her to be hurt. She’s considering coming with me now, so things are different. I brought condoms with me just in case the night took a turn in the direction I was hoping for.

We say goodnight to our friends and slip away around the corner of the barn as Ivy takes my hand in hers. The distant sound of music drifts towards us from where our friends gather, granting us a semblance of privacy as we find our secluded spot among the hay bales. We settle onto the makeshift bed I’ve created with pillows and sleeping bags, cocooned in our private world.

Our lips meet in a tender kiss, and I let go of all my worries and lose myself in the moment with Ivy by my side. Ivy stops and rubs her nose against my own.

“Is this happening?” she whispers.

“Yes,” I reply breathlessly, “if you want it to.”