My Life Is a Cliché

“Where are you going?” my mother called.

“Out for a drive,” I said shortly and strode out, pulling a coat on as I did so.

I had to get the conversation with my father out of my head. The sun was setting and I hovered by my car. No. I’d go for a walk. But where?

My eyes trailed to the ranch and I saw my father leading a group of teenagers around on horses. I shoved my hands into my pockets and watched for a while. What was it about horses? I couldn’t understand the appeal.

I heard clicking heels and turned my head. I did a double take.

“Morana?” I called and she turned, her hand jumping to her purse before she recognized me. “What are you doing all the way out here?”

She sighed heavily. “I’m lost,” she admitted. “I got off at the wrong bus stop.”

“Why didn’t you drive home?”

She didn’t answer but looked over my shoulder. “Is that the ranch?”

“Yeah,” I muttered. “Wanna go down there?”

She hesitated. “Sure,” she said finally.

We walked side by side down the slope. The horses whinnied and the smell of their manure hit my nose again. I glanced over at her. She didn’t seem to mind the smell. The sun was shining on her face, making her eyes scrunch up in a pretty adorable way. She lifted her hand to her forehead to shield her eyes and I wondered how in the world she was still single.

“How long have your parents had this ranch?” she asked.

“About 30 years,” I answered. “I could give you a tour if you’d like.”

“Well, since I’ve been abandoned, okay.”

“Abandoned?”

She rolled her eyes. “Katie took off with the car for a date tonight.”

“So that’s why you were on the bus.” She nodded and my father waved at us. I lifted my hand in response and she did the same. “I guess we’ll start with the stables.”

-Morana’s POV-

I felt like I was walking with a completely different person. He wasn’t acting arrogant or egotistical like he was at lunch.

“My dad built most of these by himself,” he said, patting the wooden stall. We were in shade now so I didn’t need to cover my eyes anymore. “After I was born he had to hire some people to finish it up, though.”

“How many horses did they start off with?”

“Ten.”

My jaw dropped. “That’s got to be expensive!”

“The food and hay are,” he nodded, “but the horses weren’t. All of these horses are rescued. It takes a lot of work to get them comfortable around humans again but my mother is the horse whisperer. Do you know how they’re measured?”

“By inches?”

“No.” By now we were coming up on circled fences. “By hands.”

“Whose hands, though?” I asked.

He laughed. “That’s the one thing I’ve never been able to understand,” he admitted. “Hold up your hand.” I did so and he pressed his to mine. “There’s such a big difference, see?” I nodded and quickly lowered my hand, blushing. “These are the corrals,” he continued.

A group of teenagers were on horses being led by an older man.

“What’s the purpose of a corral?”

“Several things,” he answered, leaning on the fence and I did the same. “Some are for what we’re watching now: learning how to ride. Others like that one over there,” he pointed to a larger one to my right, “are for breaking them.”

I looked at him in alarm. “You break horses?”

He laughed. “Sorry. That’s the word you use when you train them.”

“Oh,” I said with a breath of relief. “Goodness. You scared me for a second there.”

“Have you ever been on a horse before?”

I shook my head. “No way.”

He smirked at me. “Are you scared?”

“Of course I am,” I laughed. “Look at them! They’re huge!”

“They are,” he admitted, “but they’re not as bad as you’d think.”

“So why don’t you like it here?” I asked. “It looks like a wonderful place to live.”

He sighed. “Let’s get you home.”

I followed him back up the slope. The wind was blowing harder now, bringing cold air with it.

“The joys of Oklahoma,” I said sarcastically, pulling my coat closer. “Where’s the nearest bus stop?”

“I’ll drive you,” he said, opening the car door.

“No, I don’t want to put you out,” I said quickly.

He chuckled. “Afraid I’ll abduct you?”

“No. I just don’t want you to have to drive all the way out there.”

“Because walking in those heels are much better,” he said and I rolled my eyes. “Come on, Morana. Get in the car.”

I bit my lip but finally did as he asked. He closed the door for me and I took a minute to admire him as he walked around. He had worn a white wife beater and a light coat. It was easy to see his abs and the muscles around his chest. The door opened and I quickly looked away, not wanting him to get the satisfaction of catching me staring.

“Why didn’t Katie drop you off before she went on her date?” he asked, pulling out and into the street.

I huffed. “Because it’s on the other side of the city.”

He didn’t answer, he just continued to swerve through the streets. He seemed to remember where I lived because he didn’t ask for directions. We didn’t really speak at all. I was trying to understand the change in his persona. Was this a front? Or was the cocky jerk I met at the party the front?

He pulled up at the curb.

“I’ll wait until you get inside,” he said.

“Thanks for the tour and the ride home,” I said and struggled with the seatbelt. “What the-?”

He chuckled and reached over. “Sometimes it sticks.”

He unbuckled it for me, our hands touching. I looked up to see him staring at me with a look I couldn’t quite read. I cleared my throat and opened the door.

“Well, bye,” I said.

“Bye,” he said and I hurried up the stairs, vaguely aware of him pulling back into the street.