Texas to Tennessee

I smiled a real smile. When I was with Chance we had always had fun riding through the tall grass at full speed and enjoying those sweet kisses under the oak trees, and I wouldn’t forget that. But I also remember how Chance used to leave me behind whenever we fought. He’d walk away and I wouldn’t hear from him for days. And that kind of stuff had been happening only two months ago. But here I was, in another boys arms. And the thing was...I didn’t care. It felt good. He was holding me like I was a baby. I could feel his muscles underneath me contracting.
“You know, Texas, you’ve got nice eyes.” He winked and set me down.
I blushed. “Thanks” I went to the pile and grabbed the two halters, putting them on one of the hooks near the cross ties. Then a thought dawned on me... “Jackson? Why do you call me Texas? Because in case you forgot, my name is Ali.”
Jackson chuckled, “Texas fits you better. Besides, it’s my nickname for you.”
Eyeing him, I stuck my tongue out. I guess my silliness was coming back. That was a good sign. “Help me put this away!”
He started to put some brushes into the red tack box I’d gotten.
“Wait!” I held up my hands, and paused for a dramatic pause. “We need music! Back your truck in here, the space is big enough. We can crank up the radio.”
Jackson was laughing, “Yes ma’am.” He ran off to do what I’d asked.
I watched as he backed the truck between the two doors. He had his hand reached over, holding onto the passenger seat, and his head was swiveled behind him so he could get a good look. I kept watching, arms crossed across my chest and I think he noticed because he winked. I of course looked away.
Once Jackson had gotten the truck backed in he leaned over and cranked up the radio, then leaning out of his truck he asked, “What station do you want?”
I glanced up, “I don’t care!”
He shrugged, “Alright then.” He fiddled with old dials on the stereo, finally became satisfied.
Josh Turner’s “Why Don’t We Just Dance” was on and I just couldn’t help but sway my hips to the music. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Jackson looking at me. But I didn’t mind. In fact, I just started to dance a little more, giggling a little too. Jackson walked up and started to dance too, except it was more of a mocking version. I playfully hit him. “Shut up”
His smile shone, “yes ma’am.” He grabbed the red tack box from the pile and started gathering brushes to put in it.
Within an hour and a half we had put everything away in the perfect place. I climbed into his truck bed and let my feet dangle. Leaning back on my hands I watched him as he went around the barn, checking to make sure everything was put away correctly. “You’re OCD.” I told him.
Jackson walked out from behind a pole. “And you’re little.” He hopped up on the truck next to me with ease. I guess that’s the good thing about being tall.
“I’m not little. I am average height.”
“Oh really? In what? Midget world?”
With another playful smack I laughed, pretending to be as mad as a hornets nest. “No! I am five feet four inches! You’re just really tall.”
Shaking his head, “Okay Texas. You think that.”

“If I Were A Boy” sang by Reba began to play and my eyes lit up. This had to be one of my most favorite songs. (That’s what I said about every country song.) I started to sing along, hitting every note and key without flaw. Back in Tennessee, whenever there were fairs or parties, or even football games, I was always asked to sing for the crowd. People in town had talked about how I would become famous for it, and they even asked me if I’d wanted to record some songs but I had turned them down. Being famous wasn’t really in the cards for me.
I kept singing, and watched as Jackson closed his eyes and laid back, with a simple smile. One small part of me wanted to quit singing, lean over him, and plant one on him right then and there, but I resisted the urge. Finally, the song came to an end. I looked down at that boy, waiting for him to say something but he didn’t. I nudged him.
He opened his eyes. “Why haven’t you got a career in that?”
“I don’t want one.”
“Why not?” He sat back up.
“Think about it...being famous looks like fun, but it really doesn’t appeal to me. Besides, don’t like traveling.” I crinkled up my nose, like I was smelling bad milk.
He poked my nose gently. “You have a small nose.”
“I like it.”
“Me too.”
Jackson and I caught each others eyes. I could see my reflection in his. We sat there, just staring at each other, for at least an entire minute before the rumble of a truck pulling up broke the trance.
“I suppose that’s my dad” I said, blushing hard and trying to scramble down off the truck.
“Here, let me help you.” Jackson barley had to hop down. He put his hands on my waist, picked me up off the truck and then set me down on the floor. Whatta pro.
“Thanks” I mumbled. We stood there awkwardly for a few moments before I spoke again. “I think we should go say hey to my dad.”
“Good thinking.”

Jackson and I went out to the driveway, where my dad was still in his truck. Even from where I was standing I could tell that he was on the phone. As we got closer I could make out some of what he was saying. Stuff like; “We’re doing fine.” and “Don’t worry about me.” “Yes mama, Ali’s got some new friends.”
I peeked at Jackson who was glancing at me. We both turned away. My dad gave a wave and held up one finger, singling that he’d be able to talk in just a second.
“Yes ma’am.” he said, “Okay, I will. I love you. Bye.” Dad hung up his phone and then got out of the truck. He smiled. “That was your grandmother. she told me to tell you that she says ‘Hello’”
I smiled back. “Oh good. I’ll call her later. Dad, you remember Jackson, right?”
“Of course.” Dad took a big step and held out his hand. “Nice to see you again.”
I watched as Jackson grasped my dad’s hand and replied, “you too sir.”
“Daddy, I bought some things at the Barn Loft. He was just helping me bring them over and put them away. Actually...we owe him some money too.”
“Really? How much?”
“Ummm...a few hundred...maybe a little more....” I smiled that sweet daughter smile and my dad chuckled.
“Okay, I’ll pay him. How ‘bout you two come inside? I’ve got some fried chicken we can all eat.” Dad seemed so excited.
I threw a glance at Jackson, who was also smiling. I took that as a yes. “Let’s go!” I exclaimed.

And then all three of us, my dad, me, and Jackson all walked into the house to eat fried chicken. This day was going better than I had planned it to.