Mud on the tires

The rain is pouring down. I stand at my window thinking and relpaying his words in my mind. The last couple days I haven’t even been able to concentrate on anything but his smile. I have had guys come and go out of my life since I was thirteen. I am usually the one that walks away and I get bored with the same old same old. For some reason, Jeff is all I can see. Waiting by the phone night and day just to make sure I don’t miss a call or a text.

One night Jeff invited me over to a friend’s house for a couple drinks. Sitting next to him in his truck I had never felt so safe in my entire life. I’d gaze over at him driving and would put my hand on his. His shaky hands always made me laugh. No matter where we were going we always found things to talk about, or sit in perfectly in comfortable silence. The kind of silence that is more meaningful then words, the comfortable and warming silence. Country songs were always in the background, we both wouldn’t have it any other way. He looks at me and says “Can I take you somewhere first?” We turned around and started heading back to post.

Mud holes are heaven to a man like him. Spinning circles and getting his truck muddy as hell. Seeing the entertainment on his face was priceless. After about twenty minutes of mudding he stops and laughs, grabs my hand and says “okay now we can go.”

Heading to his friends house I got a little nervous.  Butterflies I had never felt before. I couldn’t tell if it was because our hands were locked, or if it was because we were taking that next step together.