She wouldn’t go chasing after Ryan Hood again, but she certainly wasn’t going to back down. Because, like Dakota and Sadie had said, Virginia Maple Remillard was no quitter. She’d had enough of Ryan’s evasions from long-standing traditions, family events, and years of gatherings. If he wanted to shrink away from her, he could try, but Ginny was done allowing it.
She bucked up, sitting upright in her seat, ready to take the challenge head on. This was about the town, Sugartree’s legacy… and winning.
Ginny loved Georgia. So, of course, she wanted to make her proud. But, like the rest of her wacky, competitive family, she also loved to win.
If her toocutepresence on Ryan’s team made him just a little uncomfortable, then so be it. She was gonna crowd that man’s personal space like an over-filled, hot elevator. She might even relish it a bit. If she could leave passive-aggressive notes for complete strangers, she could hang out with Ryan Hood without giving in to the warm and fuzzies. It wouldn’t be hard to do if he insisted on continuing to use words likecuteandlittle sisterto describe her.
Ginny used the pink scrunchie she always kept on her wrist to pull her hair into a quick ponytail and resettled herself, waiting to speak until Ryan’s eyes flicked back to hers.
“They’re right, Ry. Dakota taught me everything he knows. It looks like you’re stuck with me. Sorry,” she said, smirking with a new found confidence and echoing his words from the Sunday before. “You need a QB, and I’m yourwoman.”
5
NO RAIN
BLIND MELON
Dear Melody Man,
Is it weird to say I was pleasantly surprised to find your last note? I know we don’t know each other, but it’s nice to find some camaraderie with someone completely foreign to my everyday life. You don’t know me. I don’t know you. It’s like talking to myself, but I'm not a crazy person because you’ll answer. Or, at least I hope you will.
So, here I am in One Hit Wonders, going against every natural instinct and rearranging according to taste so that you might find my top three. Bleh. Even writing those words makes me itchy. Rearrange them for me accordingly, okay? Alphabetical would probably be best.
I say we keep this thing anonymous. Like musical penpals. (I had a Canadian penpal once, and she wasprobably my closest friend for all of the 3rd grade, so I expect the same outta you, Mister. Friendship bracelets, pressed flowers, secret confessions. The works.)
I do feel it important to say, I’m an adult. Ask Ms. Jan! But don’t let her spoil it for you. (I’ll do the same.)
No details… names, careers, family anecdotes.
Just music and friendship. (And the above-mentioned expectations.) If you want…
But if you put anything other than “Come On Eileen” in your number one slot, this thing between us is over.
Anyways, I’m assuming we’re on different schedules because I never see anyone creeping around when I’m here. In fact, it's usually just me and dear Jan, who at the moment is chowing down on biscuits and gravy from the place next door (Have you been there? It’s so good) while intermittently singing along to an 80’s pop mix between every bite… She’s so cool it's crazy, and she’s quickly becoming my idol.
Mood Music
Dear Mood Music,
Finally… we agree. “Come On Eileen” is single-handedly the greatest One Hit Wonder of all time. Period. I honestly don’t need to add more. Also, I’m exhausted. Work and life and LIFE have been crazy the past few weeks.
Although if I did need to order them, I’d definitely fight you on putting “Mambo No.5” in your top three. You’re better than that, Mood Music.
This week has gone in a different direction than I expected it to, so this: Music. Notes. Anonymity. Ms. Jan slurping ramen… Those things I can handle. I did confirm you are a grown woman and nothing else—as if she could be bothered to care. H er words, not mine.
Some stuff was thrown at me this week that I don’t quite know what to do with. I prayed about it… have been praying about it. (I’m a Christian. It’s the most important thing you should know about me, especially if we’re gonna be penpals and share our deepest secrets per your 3rd grade experience.)
I just don’t feel like God has given me any clear direction in regards to the major life stuff happening. Not our penpal-ship.
So I found myself here, hoping I’d find a note from you (my friendly, passive-aggressive stranger), and rearranging the Earworms section. *hint hint*
I’ve never had a penpal, but I have had lifelong best friends that have given me a run for my money over the years. No friendship bracelets though… yet. I wouldn’t put it past them. We aren’t as close as we used to be, but life has a way of doing that. I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but I guess it feels easy to write in this one-sided kinda way. Like a journal that responds. I’ll try to live up to your eight-year-old Canadian friend for all future letters.
Anyways, I didn’t buy anything today, so if I’m honest, I think I really only came here for this. So, I’m a *full-grown man* (ask Jan) saying, please write me back.
I’m gonna grab some biscuits and gravy for dinner, actually. Is there anything better than breakfast for dinner? I guess I just confirmed I come here at night after work, but I’m guessing you don’t since right now I’m sharing space with a couple of teenage boys and an older gentleman who is at least 75 and, by the looks of him, likely in a biker gang. I actually wish you could see him. Maybe he’s my idol…
Talk soon,
