Page 32 of Forget Me Not

I find myself feeling extra awkward tonight for some reason. Lately it’s like I’m a stray cat who’s been brought into a home for the first time and doesn’t know how to behave. My social skills are excellent when I’m working hard for something, but Tyler is different than most men I encounter. He’s genuine and down-to-earth, and I truly want nothing more than friendship from him. Never thought I’d see the day where I’d be seeking friendship from a boy who lives in the same town as me.

Wow.It hits me. I’m really here. Right where I've always wanted to be. A smile creeps across my face and a warm rush of contentment swirls in my stomach.

If only my mom could be here to enjoy this simplicity by my side. Not right now, of course. I wouldn’t want her anywhere near me while I’m with Tyler, or any boy for that matter. She always had a knack for embarrassing me in social situations.

I remember when I was thirteen and we were eating the continental breakfast at a hotel we were at. Mom caught me making eye contact with a cute boy and brought it upon herself to invite his family to sit with us. Thankfully, they didn’t join us. They probably just thought we were a couple of weirdos, but she said it was because she didn’t want me to miss out on feeling the giddiness of a crush.

Even when her timing was off, and it wasn’t realistic for us, my mom always sought out ways to make me feel like a normal teenager. That’s the reason I loved her when our life was shit. She tried; I saw it every day. Our circumstances were crap, but my mother loved me.

We cross the back parking lot and Tyler stops at a beat-up, blue cab pickup truck with rust spots scattered all over it. Pulling open the passenger-side door, he sweeps his arm toward it, gesturing for me to get inside.

“Thank you,” I tell him as I climb inside. A musty scent wafts out as I sit down on the bench seat.

This is definitely an old truck, late nineties at least, maybe even older. There’s a small hole in the floorboard, where cold air is creeping up, and I put my foot on it to keep what little warmth there is inside.

Tyler gets in and immediately turns the key, holding it in place as the engine sputters before finally coming to life.

“You cold?” he asks, and I immediately nod as I wrap my arms around myself.

Reaching deep into the back seat, he retrieves a baby blue crochet blanket. “The heat takes a bit to get going," he says as he lays it on my lap. The woven texture feels heavy and warm while the faint smell of hay fills the air.

“Thank you,” I tell him, looking down at the blanket for signs of an eight-legged insect, or maybe a wild critter. “Did you grow up on a farm, by any chance?” I immediately eat my words, knowing that was probably an insensitive question considering I asked because of the smell.

“I did. I actually live on a farm about five miles outta town.”

“Your parents’ farm, I presume?”

“Nah, it’s mine. Started collecting animals for my barnyard when I was four, and by the time I was five, I was butchering chickens and cows.”

I side-eye him, searching for a sign that he’s joking. “Are you messing with me?”

“Very much so.” He throws an arm across the seat as I shake my head laughing. His hand rests directly behind my head, as he backs out of the parking space. “It’s my parents' farm. I live on their property in a small two-bedroom cabin with my older brother. How’d you guess?”

“Just…a good guess.” I shrug, paying close attention to where we are going. I’m usually good at reading people and situations, but I’ve been wrong before and needed an escape plan.

“How about you?” he asks. “I assume you didn’t grow up on a farm in a small town like Lockhaven?”

Heat rises from my neck to my cheeks as I sweat beneath the layers I’ve got on. Conversations about my upbringing always make me tense. “No farm,” I tell him truthfully. “I moved around a lot. Never really settled anywhere or made many friends.”

“Military parents?”

“Something like that,” I say, leaving it at that while quickly shifting the subject to one that’s more comfortable. “So, what can I expect at this party?”

“Ohhh,” he drawls. “Little of this. Little of that. Few cows, some chickens running around, and maybe even a hayride under the stars.”

My eyebrows pinch together as I look at him skeptically. “You’re messing with me again, right?”

“You’re catching on, and I have to apologize. My sense of humor is often used to hide my nervousness.” A shy smile pulls at his lips as he looks back at me.

“Nervousness?” I sputter. “Why wouldyoube nervous?”

Tyler gives me one more fleeting glance before his eyes return to the road. “It’s not often a cute girl like you walks into town and hops in the passenger seat of my pickup truck.”

I bite the corner of my lip, blushing. “I don’t buy that for a second. I bet you’ve got a new girl in this seat every weekend.”

“Hardly. Truth is, I haven’t hung out with many girls outside of a social setting in a couple months.”

“Oh?” I say, hoping he’ll elaborate.

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