Page 2 of Buried Dreams

The sun slowly goes down as Waylon returns with some wood and starts the fire while I sit on a log. Brock lets my hand go, kissing me quickly before walking over to stand with Charlie. They both watch Waylon as they chitchat.

“I am exhausted,” Autumn states, sitting down on the log next to me. “I want to sleep for twenty-four hours straight.” I sit next to Autumn, and then Jennifer sits next to me. “Like a whole twenty-four hours. Is that possible?” I laugh at her question and so does Jennifer.

“I don’t know. The last time I slept really long, I was hungover after Brock’s graduation. I swear to God, I think I slept half on the bed and half on the floor. I have a vague memory of that. I even fell asleep standing in the kitchen, waiting for the coffee to come out, but instead, I sat down on the kitchen floor and totally fell asleep.” Jennifer leans in to me, laughing as I tell the story. The three of us have been friends since kindergarten and have literally gone through everything together. I’m an only child, but with the two of them, I feel like I have two sisters. Even when we were in high school, we spent every single weekend at one of our houses.

The sound of crackling from the fire fills the night air as we all talk about little things here and there, with us laughing and giggling at something one of us would say. When Waylon gets up and goes to his truck, all eyes go to watch him, wondering what the hell he’s doing. When he opens the driver’s side door, he turns the truck on and blasts the radio. The sound of a country song now replaces the sound of the snapping firewood. He holds one hand up in the air as he sways his hips. “Autumn, get your ass over here and dance with me.” He grabs a bottle of water from the truck. Autumn groans from beside me but gets up as Jennifer also gets up. Autumn walks over to Waylon, who lunges for her, grabbing her arm and pulling her to him. She holds up her hands, pushing his chest as she tries to get away from him. “Baby,” Brock says, and I look up at him, “will you dance with me?” He holds out his hand for me.

“Oh, yeah.” I just smile at him, getting up and wrapping my arms around him, rising on my tippy-toes and waiting for him to kiss my lips. “Anything to be in your arms,” I say as he rubs his nose with mine. I hear Autumn and Waylon arguing from beside me, but my eyes are locked on my man.

His hands move from my waist to my ass as he cups it. “You know what’s better than this?” I ask him as we sway to the music. “Being naked in your arms.”

He hums as he bends his head to kiss me at the same time Waylon shouts, “We should get the fuck out of here!” His voice is almost a scream as he tries to be louder than the music. “Hit up the bar in town, and see what’s going on there.” Brock’s hands drop from my ass as I turn in his arms, wrapping my arms around his waist as he drapes one around my shoulders.

“We shouldn’t do that,” Autumn quickly says. He looks at her, and it’s a look between a glare and a sneer. Either way, it’s horrible, and I hate him even more for treating her like this.

“No one asked you, Autumn,” he retorts, shaking his head and turning toward the four of us. “Who is with me?” He looks at the four of us. “Should we take off or what?”

“We can’t leave until the fire is out.” Charlie motions with his head toward the fire that is still going strong. No doubt trying to calm the situation.

“No problem.” Waylon storms to the side of the porch where they keep the hose. Dragging it to the firepit, he puts out the fire in no time. “There, now let’s get the fuck out of here.”

“I think we’re going to go home,” I state, not wanting to be around him when he’s in this kind of mood. “I have an early morning,” I lie, and I know the girls know I’m lying since I told them I had nothing planned.

“Fuck that,” Waylon spits out, going back over to the truck, “get your ass in the truck.” My back goes up, and I’m about to say something, but I don’t have a chance to because Brock does.

“Watch the tone, man,” Brock warns him, and he just laughs it off, as he does with everything.

“It’s all good, man,” Waylon assures him. “Let’s just get out of here and get to the bar. Then if you guys want to leave, I’ll drive you home.” He looks back at me. “There, happy?”

Brock and I share a look, and then we glance over at Jennifer and Charlie. I'm not sure what to do, but I know I don’t want to go anywhere with him when he’s in this mood. “Let’s go, people.” Waylon swings his arm around and around to get us moving toward the truck.

The four of us start walking to the truck. “I’ll drive,” Autumn offers. “I can drive.” She walks over to Waylon, who just glares at her. She ignores his glare and smiles at him. “I can drive you around for once.” Her voice goes soft as she holds on to his hips, but he shakes off her hands.

“No way.” He shakes his head. “My truck, I drive.”

“Waylon,” she murmurs in a plea.

“Get in the truck,” he orders her, his tone tight like he’s losing his patience with her, his teeth clenched together, “or fucking walk home.”

“Relax,” Charlie finally jumps in, trying to break up the drama with the two of them, “we’re supposed to be having fun.”

“I’d be having more fun if we could get the fuck out of here,” Waylon almost snarls, stomping over to the truck. “Now get the fuck in the truck, or else I’ll leave you all here.”

“I don’t know if that would be a bad thing,” I finally mumble as Brock chuckles beside me, pulling me to him and kissing my temple.

“I’m not sitting in the front. That’s for sure,” Autumn says, and I look at Brock, who just shakes his head.

“I’ll sit in the front,” Jennifer offers. “That way, the two of them will be happy at least.”

“No way.” Charlie shakes his head. “You sit in the back. I’ll sit with him up front.”

“Fine,” Jennifer relents, watching Autumn get into the back seat, leaving the back door open for Jennifer to get in after her. I follow her and get on my side as much as possible so Brock can get in and shut the door.

The driver’s window is open, and I see Waylon finish his water bottle and tossing it out the window. “Let’s go, bro.” He smirks at me and then at Charlie, who shakes his head but gets into the truck.

Waylon turns his truck around and speeds up at the same time. He puts the music on a bit louder. “Love this song!” he shouts, turning down the long stretch of road lined with trees on each side.

“He’s being more reckless than normal,” I whisper to Brock, who tightens his hold on me even more.

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