I was sitting staring at the flames licking the sky as the fire dances in front of my eyes. My names Alex and this is where it all started, the new kid that moved from the big city to this dust bowl out in the middle of nowhere. I brush the dust off my short blonde messy hair when I hear it. Rocks and dry grass crunching as heavy boots make their way towards me. Across the small gathering, a bonfire party thrown by some guy I just met (Paul maybe? Or was it Ruben? Ryan I think… whatever) this morning while I was unpacking my moving truck, taking a slow swig from a beaten-up Coors can I see him. The guy I have been eyeing all night. A scruffy brown-haired boy no older than 21. He licks his lips slowly before stopping in front of me cutting off the glow of the fire, his body casting a dancing shadow from the fire towards me. A slow, confident grin spreads across his face, brown eyes locking onto my light blue.
"Folks call me Buck. We gonna keep makin' flirty eye contact 'cross this here bon fire, or you wanna see what this ol' ranch hand can do?"
I sit stunned staring at this guy with the cut up sleaves flannel shirt crossing his arms.
Did this asshole really just come up to me and directly ask that? I think to myself.
"Aren't you freaked out coming over to another guy and asking that? Aren't farm boys like you supposed to be closeted in places like this?" I ask with a raised eyebrow. I always had a problem with cocky people. Probably my authority issues spilling over if I have to be honest.
He let out a sharp laugh, more amused than anything, then took another pull from the Coors can before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Closeted? Darlin', I ain't got time for closets. Too busy livin' and everyone here might just surprise you. It's not all cousin fuckin racists you know? Some of us are pretty ok." He says then shifts his weight, one boot scuffing the dirt. He looks me up and down sizing me up properly, the firelight catching the sweat still glistening on his neck, no doubt from a day's hard work.
I silently kick myself mentally for noting how it drips down his neck before he continues.
"Besides, round these parts, a man's business is his own. Who you take into the bushes isn't for no one to have opinions about." His grin widens, something sharp in it now.
"Now you gonna keep askin' questions you already know the answer to, or you wanna grab a beer and see where this night heads? My truck has a bed waiting for someone interesting to fill it." He jerks his thumb back toward the F-150 not far from us opposite the fire, its primer-gray paint glowing orange in the bonfire light.
Oh this guy is really making something in me tick. I can't tell if I'm angry or intrigued at how forward he is, if we could find a way to use his cocky confidence as fuel the planet would never have energy issues again.
"Do you often walk up to strangers and offer to get them drunk and sit in the back of your truck?" I ask sarcastically a smile sneaking on my face.
He doesn't answer, instead his smirk just widens like he has never had to explain himself to anyone for anything before. He holds out the new can of Coors out to me shaking it a little while wiggling his eyebrows expectantly.
Asshole. I think to myself but I grab the Coors narrowing my eyes anyway. The smile on my lips growing with mischief now. If this country boy wants to play, I can play all too well.
"So what's Buck short for or were your parents just really into Bambi when naming you?"
I ask as I brush past him my shoulder lightly bumping into his while I walk towards his truck, not waiting for his reply or turning to see if he follows me. I'm bored just sitting here anyway and teasing this guy is better than waiting for the night to end.
I hear a deep genuine laugh from behind me before I hear the sound of his footsteps crunching on the ground as he starts walking towards me.
"Brandon actually. My Ma named me Brandon after some uncle I never met, but you ever see a Buck? Big ol' thing, don't take shit from nobody, charges through whatever's in its way." He says next to my left ear. I'm surprised at just how fast he was able to catch up to me I look to see his face looking down on the ground thinking back to how he got his ridiculous nickname. He shrugs his shoulder, popping the tab on a fresh beer for himself. I'm not quite sure how he found one without me noticing before he continued, "Got that name freshman year when I put a city kid through a locker for runnin' his mouth. Stuck ever since." He takes a swig and wipe his chin, eyes locking on mine as I stop walking.
"Could tell you the whole story if you got time. Could tell you a lotta things…" he says the fire crackling behind me, someone whoops in the distance, and the host Ryan's (I'm pretty sure that was his name) voice carries across the yard hollering something about a shotgun. Neither of us turns around to break eye contact. Something changed, I'm not sure what it was but I was planning on just teasing this overly confident country bumpkin a bit before going on my merry way but there was something about feeling his warm breath on the skin of my neck so close. My face must have looked blank and confused because he stopped walking too never leaving my gaze.
"But I'm thinkin' you didn't come over here for my life story. You came cause you're curious right? They're always curious." He smirks then leaned in just a touch, voice dropping lower. Bastard. I think to myself but the worst is, he was right.
"So how 'bout we skip the small talk and you tell me what you're actually wonderin' about, Alex. Cause I got all night and I'm willin' to bet you do too nothin' else happens much round these parts." He turns and just like that starts walking the rest of the way to his truck.