Authors: Leigh Jackson
3
Tuck
Oh my God, I think I seriously just fell in love with this girl. Not only is she hot and can sing and play the guitar like a damn angel, but she just ripped Chase’s balls off. The guy is like a brother to me, but it was hilarious to see him get chewed up like that. This moment will forever be etched in my brain, and I am sure as hell not going to let Chase ever forget it.
Chase reaches over Kori’s shoulder and punches me on the shoulder. “What the hell, man? How come she’s sat here and talked to you, but she rips into me like I’m the fucking antichrist?” He’s laughing as he says it, so I know he isn’t too bothered by what happened. It’s pretty unusual, okay it’s nonexistent, for Chase to be shot down by a girl, but he seems to be taking it all in stride. This is probably healthy for him.
Kori looks back and forth between the two of us with confusion on her face. “Wait, do y’all know each other?”
I set my empty beer bottle on the bar and nod at her. “Yeah, this douchebag that you just neutered is my best friend, Chase Harrison. I’ve gotta say, it was pretty awesome to see you go off on him like that. I don’t think that’s ever happened. But it’s good for him, keeps his head from getting too big.” Chase slaps me on the back of the head and flips me off. “Oh, and Chase, she talked to me because I’m not a giant dick like you are.”
Chase narrows his eyes at me. “Yeah, you definitely don’t have a giant d--” Kori jumps off her barstool before he can finish the insult.
“Well, I’d better get back to my friends. It was nice meeting you, Tuck. And Chase, the jury is still out on you. See you guys later.”
She walks away from us before I can say anything to her. My eyes follow her through the crowd until I lose sight of her in the press of bodies. I stiffen as guy after guy turns to watch her pass through the crowd. I glare at Chase.
“What the hell? You totally screwed me over. You ran her off!”
Chase laughs at me as he motions for Kai to bring him another beer. “Whatever. I told you I wanted her. She would have come home with me if you hadn’t been standing there. I had more moves planned out.”
“You’re an asshole, you know that?”
“Yeah, I know. But it doesn’t matter, does it?” Chase has a wicked gleam in his eye. It really doesn’t matter that he was an asshole. Women love him. They always have. Even when we were kids, he was always the one that girls would make idiots of themselves over. All of the countless times that we dicked around and got in trouble when we were younger, he could talk his mom and my stepmom into forgiving us. It was unfortunate that his charms didn’t work on our fathers, but we took what we deserved.
“Oh, and she likes it rough. And dirty.” He lets out a loud groan. “Fuck, I can’t believe she said that. That was hot.” He takes his beer from Kai and motions with his head toward our table. I follow him as we make our way to sit down. I scan the crowd as I try to get another glimpse of Kori. The next performers on stage are definitely nowhere near as good as she had been. I hope she shows up for next week’s open mic night. I have to find a way to see her again.
4
Kori
I awake the next morning to a shrill sound coming from beside my head. A year ago, Chelsea gifted me with the most annoying alarm clock ever known to man. I am notorious for hitting the snooze button, and Chelsea was convinced that this shrill, annoying clock that emitted the sound of a hyena in pain was the way to get me to class on time. Most of the time, it worked.
I sluggishly stumble into the bathroom and get ready for school. My first class isn’t until nine, so at least I don’t have to rush. The hot water pounding into me from the shower helps to clear my head. I dry off quickly and get dressed for the day. Avery and Chelsea, my best friends and roommates, are sitting at the table when I finally appear in the kitchen. The three of us have been best friends since we had ganged up on George Thornton back in the fifth grade. He had been teasing us about getting “boobies” (his word, not ours), and we were sick of it. He came up behind Avery on the playground and snapped her bra through her shirt. Unfortunately for him, Chelsea and I were right behind him. We had him curled in the fetal position and crying for his mommy within minutes. The funniest part of it was the fact that he pissed his pants and had to walk across the entire playground with wet pants. The three of us were suspended for three days, but George never bullied us again. Those three days had definitely been worth it.
Avery, Chelsea, and I have been through a lot – getting our periods, first boyfriends, first break ups. They were there for me when my mom died, and they supported me through all the horror that surrounded that. Never once have they turned their backs on me, and I’ve never turned mine on them. I was so thankful when they decided not to go away for school. Lots of kids who grew up in Alexandria went away for college, even though we have one of the state’s biggest universities right here in town. I didn’t have the money to escape to a different locale, so I accepted my fate and came to terms with going to college here at State. Happily, Avery and Chelsea had no qualms about staying here for college. I’m lucky to have them. They know the real me and love me in spite of it.
I eat my breakfast in silence as Avery and Chelsea chatter about the previous evening at Sawyer’s. It always takes me at least an hour in the mornings before I become a pleasant human being to come in contact with. Avery and Chelsea understand this and are more than happy to leave me alone. It is safer for all parties involved.
Avery and Chelsea are both nursing majors, so they have a majority of classes together. Subsequently, they often ride together. Since I am the odd man out as a music major, I always prefer to drive myself. As I grunt goodbye to them, I return to my room to gather my items for the day. With my guitar case in my hand and my bag slung across my shoulder, I quickly jog out to my truck. I glance at my watch. So much for having plenty of time; now I am cutting it tight. I will be lucky if I make it to my first class on time.
I throw my stuff in the seat beside me and climb up into my classic Bronco. Aside from my guitar, this is my most prized possession. Growing up, I spent as much time as possible at my grandparents’ house. My grandfather was a genius when it came to cars, and he had a barn filled with classics that he and I spent many an hour working on. I went to live with him and my grandmother after my mother died, and he bought me this Bronco as a means to distract myself. It gave me something to place my focus on when my life began to spiral out of control. He and I spent the better portion of a year meticulously reworking the engine and restoring it to pristine condition.
I quickly buckle myself into the racing harness and slam the key in the ignition, turning it over in a hurry. Nothing. I try again with the same result. I yell out an expletive in frustration and quickly unbuckle the harness. I pop the hood and take a look at what could possibly be the problem. I get back in and turn the key over again. Alternator. I can easily replace that myself, but the dilemma will be getting a way to get a new part. Avery’s car is still here, but she has the keys with her. I could always call my grandpa, but I hate to ask him to come and get me. I lean under the hood once more, hoping that the Bronco fairies will have miraculously come and gifted me with a new alternator. No such luck. I straighten back up and brush a wayward curl out of my face. I turn to the sound of an unfamiliar truck pulling up into our driveway and am shocked when Tuck, the guy from Sawyer’s last night, climbs out of the cab. Well, this is certainly odd. I have never seen this guy before last night, and all of a sudden he is showing up in my front yard. I fight the shiver that skitters down my body.
“Hey, Kori. You having problems?” Oh, his voice is just as sexy as it was last night. And his body looks just as good as I remembered. Today he has on athletic shorts and a tshirt with cut-off sleeves that show off his sexy tattoos. It appears that he has been working out; his hair and shirt are wet with sweat. He looks so delectable that I have the sudden desire to join the gym myself. If it would mean getting an opportunity to ogle him while he sweats, I might just have to do that. Hell, I would even lick the sweat off of him. He would never again have need of a gym towel; I would just plaster myself to his sexy body.
Stop being such a damn idiot!
I have to focus to keep from reaching for him.
“Yeah, my alternator went out. I just need to get the part.”
“Do you need a ride?”
My brain whirls as I make an effort to come up with an intelligent response to his question. He hasn’t asked anything difficult, but I’m not in the habit of accepting help from other people. My grandparents help me when they can force me into submission, but even Avery and Chelsea understand my fierce desire to stand on my own two feet. Accepting help makes you dependent on another person; it can give them leverage over you. I would just have to think of a way to repay Tuck. With that in mind, I give him my answer.
“Don’t you have to get to class?” I could at least give him an out if he wasn’t serious about his offer.
He shakes his head. “Nah, I don’t have class until after lunch today. I just got finished at the gym, so I’m free for awhile. So, do you want a ride or not?”
“Sure, that would be great. Let me put my stuff back in the house real quick, then we can go.” I grab my guitar and bag out of the front seat; there is no way that I was going to leave my guitar in my Bronco. It is an expensive guitar, and it is priceless to me.
“Let me carry something for you.” Tuck moves forward to relieve me of some of my burden. I let him grab my stuff as I dig in my bag for my keys to unlock the front door. “I didn’t know you lived here. My place is about a mile down the road, so I drive by here every day. I’ve often admired your Bronco. She’s a classic.”
I give him a genuine smile. A guy after my own heart. “Thanks. I’ve put a lot of work into her. She’s pretty special to me.” I swing the door open and gesture for him to follow me inside. I grab my stuff from his hands and put everything in the pink chair that Chelsea had claimed as her own. “Do you want something to drink? You look like you sweated a lot. Or do you want something to eat? You’ve got to be hungry after working out.” I am rambling. What the hell is wrong with me? What happened to cool and calm Kori? At least my voice hasn’t suddenly become high-pitched and breathy. I hate girls like that. What guy wants to be talked to as if he is a newborn baby?
Tuck flashes me a smile that could make a girl’s heart skip right out her chest. Thankfully, mine stays in its rightful place, but I do feel some strange fluttering in my belly. This guy seriously does things to me that I haven’t felt before. I am still undecided as to whether or not I like how different he makes me feel.
“Water would be good.” I make my way to the refrigerator and grab a bottle for him. I pass it to him and he chugs it down gratefully. “We should get going. Where do you need to go for your part?”
I run down a mental list of part houses that would possibly carry an alternator for a 1968 Bronco. There is only one place I can think of that could possibly have it in stock. I instruct Tuck on how to get there as I lock the house and make our way out to his truck. I climb into the passenger side and silently watch as he settles into the driver’s seat. My body stiffens as I become suddenly overcome with panic. It feels entirely too intimate to share the cab of Tuck’s truck with him. It’s not as if I am sharing a bed with him, but it certainly feels more personal than sitting next to each other in a roaring bar. I take a deep breath as I fight down my inner demons.
Tuck is a good guy,
I tell myself.
Relax
.
Tuck appears oblivious to my internal struggle, for which I am grateful, although it might simply be easier if he did see me freak out. Then he would decide I wasn’t worth befriending and leave me alone. I grow sad as that thought takes root inside me. I shake my head to clear my insane thoughts.
Tuck looks at me with laughter in his beautiful, icy eyes. “You okay over there, Kori?”
I give him a small smile and attempt to come across as nonchalant. It is time to get the focus off of myself. “So, your friend Chase. He’s a charmer.”
Tuck throws his head back and laughs. He’s fascinating to watch. He seems so carefree and wild. I’m aware that I am always tightly wound, and I find myself jealous of people who are able to simply let go and live. “That’s certainly one way to describe him. It’s probably not the first word that I would use, but whatever you have to tell yourself.” His fingers drum on the steering wheel as the scenery passes by. “Seriously, he’s a pretty cool guy. We grew up together, so we’re like brothers. I always seemed to get us into trouble when we were younger, and he was always the one who would wind up getting us out of that same trouble. He’s always had a way with the ladies.” He looks over at me and quirks his eyebrow up suggestively. It’s my turn to laugh.
“I’m sure he has. Thankfully, nobody has ever accused me of being a lady.” I cringe to myself as I realize that this is certainly true. I was deemed white trash a long time ago.
Tuck takes my comment as a joke, which is fine with me. No need in laying all my cards out on the table to a virtual stranger. However, his next words make me instantly throw my walls back up.
“Tell me about yourself, Kori. I feel like I should know more about you since you’re in my truck. I would hate to be giving a ride to a total stranger. What should I know about you? I already know that you play the guitar like a goddess and sing like an angel. What more do I need to know?”
“A goddess and an angel, huh? Aren’t you just a smooth talker? You obviously have been hanging around Chase far too long.” I absently twirl a lock of hair around my finger as I contemplate how best to answer his question. I don’t like to talk about myself. “Well, I’m from here in Alexandria, and I’m twenty-two years old. I’m an Aquarius, and I enjoy long walks on the beach. My turn-ons are men who can make me laugh, and my turn-offs are nail biters. My favorite food is anything Mexican, and my favorite color is green.” I say all of this with a smirk on my face in a joking manner, hoping to deflect any more personal investigation. I flutter my eyelashes at him comically, hoping he will play along with my routine. To my surprise, he does.
“Hmm, long walks on the beach. Too bad we’re several hours from the coast.” He holds his hand out for me to inspect. “My nails are clipped, not bitten. So I’m safely off the turn-off list.” I find myself smiling at him. “Oh, and how about this one? It was Easter Sunday, and the preacher had all of the sweet, innocent little children up front for children’s church. He asked them all if they knew what the Resurrection was. None of them raised their hands. He asked again in shock if anybody knew what the Resurrection was. Finally, one little boy raised his hand and said, ‘I don’t know what it is, but if it lasts more than four hours, you need to go see a doctor!’” He finishes his joke with a lame rim-shot impression. Laughter bursts from out of my lips. I can’t help myself; he is just so self-assured.
“Ah, sweet success. A man who can make you laugh. Score. I just made the turn-on list.”
I reach across the bench seat and slap his arm. “You think you’re pretty slick, huh? Your turn – tell me about the great Tuck.”
“There isn’t much to tell. I’m just plain old Tucker Hayes – Tuck for short. I’m from a small town right outside of Nashville. I have two younger sisters who love to make my life sheer hell. I don’t enjoy long walks on the beach, but I do like to draw. My turn-ons are women who play the guitar, and my turn-offs are girls who wear too much perfume. I have no idea what my sign is, and my favorite color is blue.” He answers my question much more candidly than I did, but he still manages to make a joke out of it. I think he might have just added another tally to the turn-on list.
“Women who play the guitar? I guess you should have stuck to Nashville; there seems to be plenty of guitar-playing women in that town.”
“Yes, there definitely are. Luckily, I managed to find one here in Alexandria also.” I fight back the blush that insists on creeping its way up my neck.
“You like to draw? Why are you a business major?” He sighs, and I feel as if I had asked too personal of a question. He scrubs his right hand over his face before he answers me.