She stares at me quietly, assessing me, possibly thinking I’ve got some sort of speak impairment I’m trying to hide. Most of the girls I encounter do mind that I don’t talk much because they want something out of me, maybe a relationship, a profession of love, perhaps to scream their name while I’m deep inside of them but I don't do that, and I don't want that. I usually don’t have anything to say to them. That’s why I haven’t been interested in dating lately, the expectations are too great, and you don’t have to worry about small talk when you just avoid them entirely.
“Okay, well, thank you again, Wilder Cameron.”
I nod, tip my cowboy hat, and slide into the driver’s side of my truck, watching her head back towards the front of the bar and feeling something inside of me that says I should stop her andnot be an idiot. My vision blurs a little, the one good contact I still have in is scratching against my eye and I’m sure it’ll be red and irritated in the morning.
Damn pepper spray.
I rub my eye gently, trying to clear out whatever is still stuck in there but instead, knock the only contact I have out completely causing it to fall onto the floor of my truck.
Well, shit.
I bend down, running my hand across the floorboard to look for it, but I know it’s a lost cause. I can’t see for shit anymore, and the floor of my truck doesn’t have any lighting and is currently crawling with kittens.
The kittens are meowing hysterically now that I’ve woken them up, and they’re starting to climb all over my back and up my arms and legs, probably hungry and ready for milk. Without overthinking things further, I blow out a long breath of air then hop back out of the truck.
“Hey Teagan!” I call out.
Thankfully, she’s still at the door of the bar and from what I can see through the fuzzy blur of my shitty eyesight, it looks like the door is open.
“You ready for me to cash in on thatI owe you?”
Chapter 3 – Wilder
I’m not like my twin, Cody—possessive over my belongings and women, but this truck means a lot to me.
It was my great-grandpa Clarence Ashwood’s first-ever vehicle, and it became my dad’s when he married my mom twenty-two years ago. A green, 1970s Ford F100 with over two hundred thousand miles on it, a hell of a lot of memories and a little rust.
I've never let anyone else drive it—not even Cody. Yet strangely, I'm okay with Teagan driving it right now, even though she's doing a shit job. I'm not convinced she's ever handled a stick shift before.
She goes slowly down the dark, unlit backroads towards Ashwood Ranch, jerking back and forth even though I know that there’s no stop signs on the route. She shouldn’t be shifting gears, but I don’t say anything because maybe she isn’t and that’s just how she drives. I wish I could see her face while she’s doing it. I imagine her little button nose is scrunched as she tries her hardest to concentrate.
We drive in comfortable silence while I attempt to calm the six baby kittens that are still climbing all over me. Finally, I get four to stay in the box, purring contentedly, and hopefully falling asleep soon. But the grey one and one of the orange ones keepclimbing up my chest and trying to perch on my shoulders like tiny little, noisy parrots. Their claws puncture my skin as they meow in frustration and each time that I remove them and place them back in the box, they dig right back in, climbing up me like a tree.
I hear Teagan chuckle from next to me. “I wouldn’t fight it. Some kittens enjoy sitting on their owners’ shoulders. I don’t know why.”
“Do they think I'm a pirate or something?” I joke.
I can’t see her face, but I hear the smile in her voice. “You could only see out of one eye tonight, so it isn’t that far-fetched for them to assume.”
I chuckle internally, wetting my lips, and trying to figure out how to make witty conversation with this mysterious woman who smells like warm cocoa and is driving me back to my house.
I'm not good at this. The flirty banter necessary to get a girl to be interested in you and show that you have a personality. Sure, I’ve talked to plenty of women before. I feel like I also have a healthy sex life, engaging in sex occasionally when I run into an old friend from high school or go out with Dalton and end up dancing with a stranger at Rex’s Rodeohouse Bar, the city’s largest facility where people in their twenties like me go to party. It certainly isn’t anything regular or routine, but I’m not celibate, and it’s not like I don’tlikesex. I just don’t have the time and, you know, seclusion on a ranch and all that.
“I hope I didn’t ruin your night,” I say
She laughs gently. “Not at all. I was looking for an excuse to bail on that mess back there.”
I smile silently as the two rowdy kittens now perched on both shoulders finally settle down since I've given up on wrestling them—grey on the right, tabby on the left. Like an angel and a devil, whispering different things I should say to show Teagan that there’s more to me than being a kitten savior.
The kittens stare straight ahead as if they know the way to where we’re going and are ready to meet their new home. Meanwhile, I’m wishing I knew where this night was headed with my new, mysterious friend.
“My twenty-year-old sister’s the bride. Can you believe that she’s only twenty and thinks she’s ready to get married? I didn’t know anything at twenty years old. I’m twenty-two now and Istilldon’t know anything. I’m pretty sure your brain isn’t fully developed until well after twenty-five, so no major life decisions should be made before then,” she laughs.
I smile but don’t respond, thinking back on the slew of mistakes I’d made at twenty years old when I thought I had things figured out.
We continue the drive in silence for a few more minutes until she speaks again.
“What you said back there... it really resonated with me. You aren’t wrong. Most people do talk just to hear themselves speak. Like they aren’t confident enough to be comfortable in the silence that comes with conversation.”
