Page 16 of Hate To Love You
The boys each earn one of Mr. Michelson’s big hands on their shoulders, giving them a squeeze. “I knew I could count on y’all!”
7
An Unscheduled Errand
The engine of the truck rattles as they speed down the road, the warm air blowing through the windows and dragging through their hair. Whatever song is on the radio crumbles to bits of wailing vocals and distant guitar screeches in the noise. Teague is a king on his throne as he steers the truck, proud of himself.
Liam looks downright miserable.
This isn’t quite what Teague was hoping for when he insisted to be the driver and take his truck. The last four times he tried to start a conversation since leaving the store, Liam shut it right down with a single word or giving the silent treatment.
They will arrive at Gary’s ranch in just another ten minutes. How can Teague salvage this opportunity to break down Liam and his castle walls?
“Sorry about the AC,” Teague says over the noise. Yes, this is his fifth attempt at making Liam speak. “Been broken for a while now. Swore I’d do something about it, but between this job and …” Is this what he’s going for? Sympathy? That’s a waste of breath. “I shouldn’t make excuses, right? I just haven’t gotten to it. And now we’re both suffering.”
“It’s not that bad,” says Liam, gazing out the window at the sprawling countryside.
Wait. That was more than a one word response. “Oh, okay. I’m glad to hear I’m not torturing you,” chuckles Teague, encouraged.
“No, I’ve dealt with broken-down ACs countless times, even at school. The real torture is bearing this errand withyou.”
Teague’s face tightens. “Am I really that bad to be around?”
Liam sighs and tucks his hat over his face, slouching in the seat and crossing his arms.
“Taking a page from my handbook?” teases Teague. “Getting a ten-minute shuteye? Y’know, it’s an acquired skill fine-tuned over twenty years of hard living, catching z’s on the fly when all you’ve got is a bucket and a mop head …”
“You’re nineteen, not twenty.”
An idea clicks into Teague’s brain. He senses the opportunity. He needs to turn Liam’s mood around. “Well, actually …” He peers at Liam, who looks so cute with his hat over his face, trying to take a nap in this unrelenting noise. “… today’s my, uh … my birthday.”
Liam lifts his head. The hat slides off into his lap. “Today?”
“Yep.”
He shakes his head, baffled. “But it … it isn’t on the employee calendar. I check. Every day.”
“Guess they haven’t added it yet. Me being a new hire and all. And I don’t really like to make a big fuss about it, y’know? Never did in the past. Why start now?”
“But …” Liam sits up fully. “It’s still your birthday. You only get one a year.”
Teague shrugs. “Hopefully I’ll have many more.”
Liam appears surprisingly annoyed at Teague for not making a big deal out of it. “You should’ve asked for today off! You would have easily gotten it. Mr. Michelson loves you.”
“He’s not the one I want loving me.”
Liam rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Forget I said anything. Happy birthday.” Then he slaps the hat over his face and slouches back in his seat once again. Teague smirks to himself, satisfied with that last little poke at Liam’s cute heart, as they continue on down the long dirt road.
Upon arriving at Gary’s ranch, however, they are confronted by another issue. “Oh, shit, my bad, what day is it? I don’t think y’all’s order’s ready,” says one of the ranch hands, who introduced himself as Hoyt. At least Teaguethinksit’s a ranch hand. He’s some fit guy around their age decked out in tight booty-hugging jeans, boots, and a t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off showing his guns. The mud splotches spackled over his left side indicates they caught him in the middle of his work. “Gotta ask my man Harrison about it when he gets back, which I hope is soon, ‘cause my ass has to be at my other job by four, and I smell like a yeti’s armpit. Hey, you guys wanna, like, come back in maybe an hour or two? These bozos should have it ready by then, or so help me.”
Teague and Liam are walking back to the truck across the hot, dusty lot, sun blaring at an angle over the backs of their necks. “An hour or two??” groans Liam in disbelief. “They’ve had all day! It’s, like, the afternoon! How’s it not ready yet?”
“Wires got crossed,” suggests Teague, hands in his pockets, walking alongside Liam. “People run on their own time out here.”
“That guy didn’t even know what day of the week it is.”
“When does anyone, really?”
