Her face lights up while her eyes survey my truck. “A Chevy Silverado, huh?” Her gaze flicks to me. “V8? Four-wheel drive?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Her attention moves back to my truck. “Hard to tell for sure from here, but the body looks good.”
“Wanna see under the hood?”
The way her eyes light up, you’d think I just told her she held the winning lottery ticket. “Could I?”
I nod and pull out my wallet, leaving enough cash to cover both Magnolia’s and my food along with the tip. Even though she’s dating Dallas, I still insist on paying when she’s with me. It’s tough to change a habit like that.
Charlotte slides out and stands, waiting for me. When I guide her out of the diner with my hand hovering at the base of her spine yet not touching, deep down it feels like I’m embarking on something new. Important. Exciting and a little intimidating.
Still, there’s a small part of me that wishes Magnolia were here by my side.
Hollis
SENIOR YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL
February
“Tell me again why you dragged me here?”
I slump into one of the cushy chairs arranged in a small semicircle a few feet away from the dressing rooms.
“Because I know you’ll be honest with me. If I end up lookin’ like an old hag, you’ll let me know.” Magnolia’s voice carries from one of the changing rooms where she’s trying on her prom dress now that the seamstress adjusted a few things.
I admit, I thought about the fact that my mom does that kind of work, but… Yeah. That wasn’t happening. Not in a million years.
I stretch out my legs and cross them at the ankle. The young girl working here at the dress shop catches my eye and flashes me a flirty smile. I offer a polite one because even though I’m not interested, I’m not trying to be an ass.
Charlotte Benson and I have been… Well, I don’t actually know what we’ve been doing. We decided not to label it right now, trying to be realistic with each of us heading off to college. But the past few months have been great.
She’s smart, funny, doesn’t get jealous of the fact that Magnolia’s my best friend, is never demanding when it comes to my time and my job at the country club, and comes over and helps me work on the truck. She even had me bring it over to her place and got her dad to look at it.
He showed me the Chevelle he’d restored and went over the body work he’d done. Mr. Benson gave me a few tips, and then he and his wife insisted I stay for dinner. It was one of the best nights I’d had in a while, especially with my dad working so much and me trying to stay out of my mom’s hair. Not to mention, it was the first time anyone had invited me over for dinner without it being a pity offer—like the time Mrs. Barton invited me over a few years back.
The Bensons are a good bunch, down to earth, and welcoming. It’s probably from moving around for Mr. Benson’s job as a high-level business consultant of some sort and trying to fit in every time.
Charlotte told me he has to wear a suit to work, but you’d never know it when he’s at home. Every time I’ve been over, he’s been in a pair of khakis, a polo shirt, and a nice pair of flip-flops. Totally laid-back.
They invited me over for Thanksgiving and Christmas—after Dad and I had our own low-key meal, of course. Mom’s even more distant, and I’m pretty certain Dad’s sleeping on the couch these days.
I discovered that when Charlotte and I got a little carried away with our make-out session one night. I came home well after curfew, and Dad was already snoring up a storm. I crept past him sprawled on the couch beneath the throw blanket.
After that, I started paying attention to the blanket normally folded and draped over the back of the couch. Every morning, I’d get up for school, and that thing was in a different spot.
When he began leaving his bed pillow on one end of the couch, that confirmed my suspicions. I wish I could help him somehow, but I’ve never understood their relationship or how a man could put up with someone like her.
It makes me even more grateful for Charlotte and her family. They’ve shown me what it could be like to be around welcoming and kind people. Even though Charlotte and I haven’t mentioned the “L” word or anything, I’ve had random thoughts about what it would be like if we stayed together through college and got married. About holidays with the four of us together. How awesome that would be.
A jaw-breaking yawn hits me the instant Magnolia walks out of the dressing room in her prom dress, and I try to stifle it. I pulled a shift after school at the country club and headed straight over to spend the rest of my Friday night with Charlotte.
“What’d y’all do last night? Late night movie marathon or somethin’?” she asks, catching me mid-yawn.
I snap my mouth shut because Charlotte and I were definitely not paying attention to the movie playing on TV last night. A satisfied smirk tugs at my lips as a flashback hits me.
We’d been more daring than usual, but only because Mr. Benson went out of town for work and Mrs. Benson sleeps like the dead. Charlotte and I had experimented, showing each other what feels good, and I learned a lot about how to make a girl orgasm.
“Oh.” Magnolia’s single response, spoken with an odd heaviness, jerks me from my inner thoughts. She clears her throat and can’t seem to look me in the eye. “Well, what do you think?”
I internally shake off my train of thought and blink, focusing on my best friend. “Whoa.” My eyes go wide. “You look…” I trail off because I’m not sure what to say.
She glances down at herself, and it’s plain to see the uncertainty written on her face. I shoot to my feet and draw to a stop when I’m only a few feet away.
“You’re beautiful, Shortcake.”
It’s the God’s honest truth. Dallas will be knocked stupid when he sees her in this dress. It’s blue, strapless, has lace above the waist, and the rest of it has satiny folds. The color matches her eyes, and she looks like a princess.
Blue eyes meet mine with hesitation. “Really?”
I nod slowly. “Yes, ma’am.”
With a weak smile, she glances down at herself, and I hate the doubt I see. I take her by the shoulders and gently turn her to face the mirrored wall. Standing at her back, my palms rest on her bare shoulders, and I lower my head to her ear and speak softly.
“You look beautiful, and Dallas won’t know what hit him.”
The tension in her features eases a little. “You sure it doesn’t make me look—”
I cut her a sharp look. “Don’t even mention that,” I practically growl.
Her mother’s been on a kick about Magnolia’s weight, and it pisses me the hell off. She wants Magnolia to be the spitting image of herself, and it’s never going to happen.
Magnolia clearly got most of her genes from her dad, and she’s grown a little curvier lately. Not fat or unhealthy, but even so, her mom’s response to it has been to lecture Magnolia about her eating and tell her she should cut back.
“You sure?” Her expression reflects uncertainty, and I hate it.
“As sure as I know there’ll always be a redneck with a gun rack and the Confederate flag flyin’ from the back of his truck.”