Texas to Tennessee

One week had gone by. Somedays were fast and others were slow, but either way, I’d made it an entire week and that was a good sign. Dad had gotten a job at the mechanic’s shop and was working almost all day, which meant I was home alone a lot. But it didn’t really bother me, in fact, I enjoyed the peace. But today I wouldn’t be sitting around the house doing basically nothing, no, today I had a plan. Today I was going to go back to the Barn Loft.
I walked to my bathroom and plugged my iPod into my iHome, pushing play. “Better Than Revenge” by Taylor Swift came on and I smirked, thinking about Sarah and Chance, wondering if they were together now. I pushed the thoughts of them away, knowing that if I pondered on them too long I’d break down. So instead I thought of Jackson. Yes, I know. It’s a weird person for me to think about, but ever since I’d gone to the Barn Loft that day he hadn’t left my mind. I brushed my dark hair and put on some light make up. (I wasn’t one for wearing a bunch of eyeliner.) Then, I decided that I’d wear some cut offs and my white tank top that had a silhouette of a girl and a horse on the front. I smiled into the mirror, trying to see if it looked real or not. It did, even though it wasn’t.
I went down to the garage and grabbed my bike out of a messy corner, dragging it through a bunch of cardboard boxes and then finally managing to get on. I knew that riding my bike to town would take at least thirty minutes, but since I wouldn’t have my license for another two weeks I didn’t really have a choice, and besides, my dad had the truck. I started to pedal down the bumpy driveway and then onto the dirt road.
I was right. Thirty minutes later I was standing outside the Barn Loft, steading my bike with my hands. I tried to peer inside to see if JAckson was working, but I couldn’t get a good look. So I leaned my bike against a little bench in front of the store and then walked in.
Like clockwork, the little bell rang annoyingly. The place was empty in front, and no one was at the counter. But I guess Jackson must’ve heard the bell because he came walking in from the back room. He looked pleasantly surprised to see me. “Well, well, well,” he said, smiling and wiping his hands on a dirty towel. “Look what the cat drug in. How you doing Texas?”
I smirked, going over to him. “I came to buy some stuff.”
“Oh, so this means you didn’t come to chat with me again?”
“Sorry to disappoint.” I half smiled, walking past him and into the back room. Jackson followed me, just like I knew he would.
“What are you looking for? I can get it all for you, that way it’ll save you some time.” He said, throwing his dirty towel over his shoulder.
I turned my head and looked at his cute face over my shoulder. “Sure. Why not.” I pulled a list out of my pocket and gave it to him.
He skimmed over it and then looked back at me, laughing. “Why do you need all this? Shouldn’t you already have most of this?”
“Are you gonna help or not?” I put my hands on my hips, challenging him.
He opened his mouth and then closed it. I think he sensed I didn’t feel like talking about why I needed so much. “Okay, let’s get started.”

Thirty minutes later we had just about everything I needed piled up in the front of the store. We, Jackson and I, were standing in the back room next to the black saddle that I’d fell off of the previous time I was there, the saddle I had fallen in love with.
“I want this.” I said, gesturing towards it.
“The saddle?” Jackson peered at it, both eyebrows raised as if he didn’t believe me.
“Are you deaf? Yes. I want this saddle.” I pulled it off the post and cradled it in my arms. “I know you’re supposed to wait until you get a horse to get the saddle, but I have a feeling.”
With his eyebrows still raised and his face showing that he obviously thought I was crazy, but whatever. “Okay then.” He tried to take the saddle from my arms but I refused. He chuckled under his breath. Mocking me.
We walked back to the front of the store, and then I set the saddle on the floor, next to all of the other things I’d gotten and then I started going towards the door.
“Hey wait...what about all your stuff?!?” Jackson said, holding his hands out.
“Oh, my dad will come by later to pay for it and take it home. I only have my bike.” I shrugged, placing my hand on the door knob.
Jackson gazed between me and my pile of barn items and then sighed. “You know you’re crazy, right? I’ve only seen you twice and I already know you’re crazy.”
I decided to go out on a limb. I strolled up to him and got close to his face. “Say it like you mean it, jerk.” I smiled, backed up, watching a goofy smile appear on his face, and then I listened to the little bell ring as I walked out. The sun lit up my face, making me feel more awake than I had in a long while. I picked up my bike and set it back on the sidewalk, preparing to get on when I heard that dang bell again. But whipped around when he spoke to me again. Ugh! Why couldn’t I just keep walking?
“Texas, I’ve got my truck. We can put all of your things plus your bike in the back. Y’all can pay for it when you get the chance.” Jackson wasn’t smiling, but he had this sweet look on his face. Like a little boy who had just discovered his first bug. Interested, amused, excited, and maybe even a little confused. He looked at me like I’d never had anyone look at me before.
I realized I was standing there with my mouth gapped a little. Quickly, I shut it and shook my head clearing my thoughts. “You’re minding the store.” Whoa, my southern accent was down right thick when I said that.
“Not anymore.” Jackson’s top half of the body disappeared into the store for a brief moment, and then he came back out. The pointed to the closed sign that was saying open just seconds before.
I half smiled, “I don’t even know you. What makes you think I should let you drive me home? What if you turn into this stalker?”
“Oh don’t flatter yourself.” He laughed, taking some keys out of his pocket. “I’m just helping out the needy. And if you want, you can blindfold me.”
“Blindfold you?! While you’re driving? Are you crazy?”
Another laugh, “okay then, you’re just going to have to trust me.” His eyes met mine, catching them and even holding them, but I looked away.
“Fine. But I don’t trust you.”

We walked back into the store and began making trips back and forth from the store to the truck, carrying as much as we could. His truck was an old navy F150. After a few trips, we had everything I had gotten in the bed of his truck. I stood on the passenger side with my hand on the handle. I was about to get in when he stopped me.
“What are you doing?” I asked, taking a step back as he stepped in between me and the truck.
“Being a gentleman.” He put is hand behind his back, opening the door but not moving from where he stood. “You’re stubborn.”
Jackson had earned yet another smirk from me. Did this boy think I liked getting insulted? Or was he just rude? I decided to throw one back. “And you’re a pain in the ass. So what?”
Jackson gripped his chest, holding onto the place where his heart would be. “I’m hurt.” He pretended, with that cute face of his, to be dreadfully upset.
Rolling my eyes, I shoved past him giggling. I perched myself in the leather seat, taking in a quick, but deep breath. His truck smelled like a mixture of leather, manure, and whatever cologne he wears. Jackson closed my door, still clutching his heart and walked over to the drivers seat. “Are you good at driving?” I asked, getting a nervous feeling the pit of my stomach.
“Of course. I drive pretty girls around all the time.” He smiled to himself, while putting the keys in the ignition.
I gave him the eyebrows raised look, and watched as once again he chuckled. What was with this guy and laughing? Did he have some type of happy problem?
“I’m just kidding, Texas.”
“What is up with you calling me ‘Texas’? I told you my name is Ali.”
“It’s my nickname for you. I’ve never been to Texas before, I’ve never left this town. But you... you look like you’ve been hurt.” He glanced at me, before backing the truck out.
I gazed out of the window, not saying anything. Jackson was observant.
There were a few minutes of silence, except for me telling him where to turn. And then he spoke again. “Why did you move here?”
My eyes darted from his face to my hands and then back out the window. “My dad decided he wanted a new start.”
“Your mom didn’t agree?”
I suddenly wished I wasn’t sitting in that truck. I wanted out, but now it was too late. “No. She didn’t want to leave.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. I knew my mom had never wanted to leave Texas, and she never had to.
Jackson nodded, not saying anything else. He just leaned over and turned on the radio. His presets were country stations. Why did this boy keep giving me reasons for me to like him? Even as a friend?
One of my all-time favorite songs, “Work Hard, Play Harder” by Gretchen Wilson was just starting. I couldn’t help but crank up the volume and sing along. Once I started to sing, Jackson joined in, and by the second chorus we both had our hands clutched around fake microphones, enjoying every second. And for those seconds, every worry I’d ever had was long gone, out of my mind.
“You have a talent.” He said, once the song ended. He turned down the radio; an opening for us to talk.
“For?” I pulled my feet out of my shoes and put them up on the dashboard. “Turn left”
Turning the truck gracefully he continued to talk. “singing.”
“Oh. Thanks, I used to sing in the church choir.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. Actually, I used to watch my mom perform in church and then she’d always sing to me before I went to sleep, even when I was older. I guess I just caught on. But no matter, because there was no way I was ever going to tell anyone that part of my life, even Jackson.