Page 23 of Will to Run

“But that’s dirty,” she continues.

“After two beers, I bet you’ll join in the fun.” I laugh.

“Like… do the peanut shells get put in people’s mouths and then thrown on the floor? I mean, I like to suck the shell before I spit it out.”

“Some do.”

“So you’re wading around in people’s spit?!” She is aghast at the whole thing.

This is going to be even more fun than I intended.

“Are you in or out, Tatroe?”

Her mouth opens and closes a few times, as if she’s deciding what to say.

“I’m game, Jaxon Wills,” she finally affirms. “Show me this authentic experience.”

We load up in her golf cart and drive to my sister’s house. Of course, Molly is here too. The two of them are waiting on the front porch for us, and they lift their glasses in cheer when we get out.

“Where are we headed tonight?” Hazel asks.

“We are headed nowhere. I’m taking Della out for an authentic Amberheart experience.”

“So help me God, if you say The Rusty Lantern, you know we’re coming,” Molly chimes in. “I’m Molly, by the way. Pseudo-member of the Wills crew. Haze and I are a package deal. I’m so sorry I missed you yesterday!”

“Yeah, that is where we are going!” Della replies with a delighted smile.

Damnit, I was going to lie to them. I wanted her for myself tonight.

“Oh my God, yes!” Hazel says, and she and Molly clink their glasses. “This is going to be my favorite part of the week. Let’s get you dressed and ready, Della,” she says as she hands her a glass of wine they had in reserve for her.

“What about me?” I say to their backs.

“Drink from the bottle or something,” Hazel laughs, walking inside.

I look at the way they so seamlessly grab her like they’re old friends, and smile. Hazel is historically closest to Everest, and me to Cayson. But as we got older, Hazel has become less annoying and more someone I admired, which was cool. While they disappear to find her an outfit, I decide to walk home to grab my truck and change myself. Seeing as Hazel and Molly have already been drinking, I’ll drive this motley crew into town tonight.

When I return, the girls are in a full-on fashion show, and I walk in while Della is in the back room changing. Molly and Hazel are sitting at the island with whiteboards, rating the outfits. Apparently, everything has been a ten.

“It’s not fair; you’re perfect,” Hazel shouts from her stool.

“Well, I’m literally wearing your clothes, so you are too,” Della shouts back.

I chuckle at them, but stop in my tracks when she comes out. My mouth drops open, and I realize that whatever she puts on, everyone will be barking up her tree.

Right now, she is the poster child for hot fucking cowgirl, and someone I’d hit on ten out of ten times. She has the same dark jeans on, but has switched her black tank for a white one. It fits her the same, dipping low into her cleavage, but the color brightens everything about her. The girls have outfitted her in a caramel suede jacket, and put her in boots and a hat. I’m sure I’ve never seen someone more beautiful.

“How’s this?” she spins for the crowd. They whistle at her and write one hundreds on their boards, but I find I’ve lost the ability to speak as I drink her in.

Her eyes find mine as if she’s looking for my validation, so I tell her just how good she looks.

“You look radiant, Della, and you’ll fit in perfectly,” I say without breaking her gaze. It’s an odd choice of words, but maybe the truest I’ve said today.

“Let’s go, girls,” I follow up with, and immediately realize how wrong that is, because all three of them follow that up with the opening to the Shania Twain song, and my palm flies to my forehead. But when the three giggly girls hop into my car and we make our way into town, I’m curious to see what this night brings.

13

DELLA