The front door opens, and before I turn around, a familiar male voice booms, “Better not be puttin’ your grimy paws on my lady!”
I laugh and raise my hands in mock defense. “Yes, sir!” Slowly, I turn around, and my uncle Johnny, my dad’s brother, strides over and pulls me in for a quick hug before backing away to survey me.
“Boy, you just keep growin’ taller every time I see you.”
I laugh. “It’s been a while since you’ve seen me.”
He grimaces with an apologetic expression. “Yeah, I know.” He shakes his head, gazing at the car. “Once things took off, it seems like I’ve hardly had time to breathe.”
My uncle started a custom body shop outside Atlanta. I don’t think anyone expected his business to achieve success as fast as it did, but after he toyed with his own ’68 Corvette and revamped the entire look, making it sleeker with all the custom work, word of mouth spread about Custom Motorwerks. He travels to overseas car shows to show and, often, sell his “projects,” as he calls them.
We both study the Chevelle for a beat. “Jay told me you did some work on your truck.” He turns his attention to it, and I suddenly feel embarrassed.
“I, uh, haven’t done any major work on it.”
He steps up and runs a hand over the front fender, then surveys the rest of the modifications on the body work before his gaze flicks to me. “You do all this yourself?”
I run a hand over my hair nervously. “Yes, sir.” Then I rush to tack on, “But I had some help from my girlfriend’s dad.”
His eyes trace over the vehicle. “Nice.” He straightens. “You know, you could always shadow me in my shop if you want some hands-on experience. Apprenticeships are hard to come by, but judgin’ from this,”—he tips his head to my truck—“you’ve got potential.”
I nod in thanks. “I appreciate it, but I’m headin’ to Auburn.”
He studies me for a moment, and I wonder if he knows just how much I wish I knew what I wanted to do with my life.
Dad suggested I major in business, but I think he wants me to be the first college graduate of the family more than anything. I can’t fault him for wanting more for me. It just sucks not having a real clue about things.
“Well, if you change your mind, you know how to reach out.” He winks. His eyes crinkle at the corners, so similar to my dad when he smiles.
Which is more rare these days, unfortunately.
Uncle Johnny claps a hand on my shoulder. “Now, tell me all about this girlfriend of yours. Your dad said sh—”
“Hollis! You’ll never believe this!” Magnolia rushes around from the backyard to my driveway. “I found—” When she notices that I’m not alone, she comes to such a comically abrupt stop that I can’t restrain a laugh.
Her mouth forms an O. Immediately, I watch the transformation from my Magnolia into the prim and proper one her mother had a hand in creating.
She straightens and smooths down her simple sundress. “I’m so sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to interrupt like that.”
Before she can excuse herself, my uncle pipes up with, “You must be the girl I’ve heard all about.”
My head whips around, and I part my lips to correct him, to tell him she’s not my girlfriend, but Magnolia beats me to it. She approaches us, coming to a stop a few steps away on the driveway.
“Oh, no, I’m sure that’s not correct.”
Phew. That was close.
She smiles sweetly. “Unless you’ve heard only delightful things about me, of course.”
Shit, shit, shit.
“Well,” my uncle starts, eating right out of her sweet, Southern hand, “I heard his girlfriend was a pretty little thing who spent nearly all her time helpin’ him with this truck of his.”
The instant it dawns on Magnolia, it’s so obvious it’d be hilarious if this were any other situation. But I don’t want to embarrass her any more than she is. I jump in with, “This is Magnolia, Uncle Johnny. She lives in the house behind us.”
“Magnolia,” he repeats, clearly having been told about her by Dad. “Yes, I’ve heard about y’all bein’ joined at the hip.”
She relaxes minimally, but her polite smile looks a little brittle around the edges. “Yes, sir. Hollis and I have been best friends since we were eight.”
“When you forced me into it,” I mutter good-naturedly with a smug grin.
“Oh, you!” She swats at me, and I laugh before telling my uncle how she’d introduced herself that day.
He chuckles. “Sounds like you’re a force to be reckoned with, young lady.” Then he turns to me. “You’re one lucky guy with two lovely ladies in your life.”
It catches me off guard only because I’ve never actually thought about it, but he’s right. I gaze down at Magnolia and nod.
“I reckon I am.”
Magnolia
AUBURN UNIVERSITY
Auburn, Alabama
FRESHMAN YEAR
Dallas broke up with me within the first week of classes, and I was surprised how easily I got over it. Sometimes, I miss him a little, but I reckon what I really miss most is having an actual boyfriend my parents approve of. It’s probably for the best that my courage fizzled out on me on prom night and I didn’t lose my virginity to him.
College life is a brand of insanity all its own. It’s a combination of overwhelming, fun, and stressful.
I lucked out when it came to dorms, though. My dorm is coed by floor, and Hollis is on the second while I’m on the third. Although our class schedules don’t coincide, I sometimes get to see Hollis in passing on the stairs. Once or twice, I’ve run into him at the library when I’d been studying for an exam.
He and Charlotte have continued dating, and he’s invited me to join them several times, whether it’s to a bar or a club, some campus event, or a football game, but I’ve declined. I’ve distanced myself a bit, letting them have their time together, because the last thing I want is to be a third wheel.
The worst part about declining their invitations to hang out is, it means I haven’t seen or had much time with my best friend in a while. And, boy, do I miss him. At least we still text.
It’s Friday, and I’m being held captive—along with my other classmates—by Professor Jenner in my American Foreign Policy class. He’s notorious for going off on tangents and droning on with stories from his experience working in DC. They never have anything anyone can glean from them and have nothing to do with the exams, so I find myself zoning out, wondering what’s on the menu in the dining hall since I’ll escape this class by one.
My phone lights up where I’d slid it partially beneath my binder. Carefully, even though Professor Jenner doesn’t notice since he’s so enthralled by his own storytelling, I slide it out to read the text.
Hollis: Whatever you do, do NOT eat the meatloaf for lunch.
Then he attaches a GIF from the movie Wedding Crashers with Will Ferrell hollering to his mother about meatloaf. A split second later, he sends another GIF with the famous basketball player Shaq, saying, “NO, NO, NO, DON’T DO IT!!!”