Page 12 of A Country Kind Of Love
“Yes, I feel like you’d make a good addition to my team. Christian’s team always wins.” Jesse scowls.
“Do I have toplay music?”
“No.” Jesse shakes his head.
“You won’t force me to like chug beer or anything?”
Jesse laughs. “This isn’t afrat house.”
“Huh, okay, then...” Just say, yes, stop being so antisocial. “Sure. Sounds fun.” Lie. It sounds like Peyton’s idea of unsolicited torture. She drops the key lidinto place.
“Do you know beer is the third most widely consumed drink in the world?” Peyton states.
“Erm no.”
“The first two are water and tea. Strange, isn’t it?”Peyton says.
“What is?”Jesse asks.
“Beer being third? It tastes disgusting; don’t you think?” The thought of sipping beer is gag inducing.
“No, not really.” He shrugs.
“The bitter taste is in direct opposition to evolutionary instinct. The whole reason we developed taste receptors to the bitter taste was for safety, so we knew if something was poisonous. We’ve become so accustomed to the taste that our genetic makeup has adjusted.” Peyton shrugs and starts to unpack the last of herbelongings.
Jesse chuckles. “Yep, you’re definitelyon my team.”
3
The scent of coffee fills her lungs. Jesse must be awake. The smell always triggers highly emotive memories she associates with songs and her mom’s coffee-stained notebooks.
It’s 10 a.m. The air is cool, but it’s deceiving. When she leaves the air-conditioned apartment she knows the Tennessee heat is going to make the warm and dry summers of California feellike Alaska.
Peyton grabs her brown fedora to finish off what Pinterest would categorise as her simple and sweet summer outfit. She envisioned a low-key ensemble to rock the streets of Nashville: an ivory lace tank top with a pair of retro bell bottoms and beige ankle boots seems appropriate. The majority of her wardrobe is suitable for Nashville; she just needs another hat or two and maybe a pair of cowboy boots, and she’ll fit right in. A shopping trip is on her list, but first she has to secure a job.
She rushes out of her bedroom door, skids to a halt at the end of the hallway and turns back. She forgets her watch every single day, but not today; that has to bea good sign.
Jesse hands her a shot of tequila when she steps over the kitchen threshold.
“Really? It’s 10 a.m.”
“Helps ease the nerves.” He shrugs.
“They’ll think I’m analcoholic.”
“You’re probably right; coffee it is.” He hands over a black skull travel mug, with the words,DeadThirstywritten on the side. She shakes her head but doesn’t complain. Jesse’s been good to her since she moved in.
“Thank you.”
“Still on for tonight?”
Game night, how could she forget. Jesse has spent the whole week individually describing his friends in detail. There’s Drew, the rugged biker guy who randomly plays the violin, and not just plays it; he really plays it, like Yehudi Menuhin level. There’s his best friend, Marvin, aka Big Mac. His introduction includes a story about a 3 a.m. trip to McDonald’s with the munchies that gave him the adventurous nickname. Lastly, there’s Christian, the skinny dog-lovingsoul singer.
“Sure. You said seven, right?”
“Yeah, but no rush.”
“Okay.” Peyton grabs her bag. “Wish me luck.”
