Little Wolves (gxg)

Chapter 8 - Wine Time

After Dad and I came home from our breakfast adventure, my mom decided to head into town to find deck furniture. She came home with two of these cute, wicker rocking chairs that she put on our front porch. Dad had convinced her to get metal lounge chairs for our back deck, too, but they were being delivered tomorrow.

I was testing out the rocking chairs. Call it stupid, but I had found a bottle of my mom's wine and was currently on my second glass. I know I shouldn't be drinking this early, or at all, but ever since I left the Auden's this awful nagging feeling to go back wouldn't leave my stomach. Wine finally quieted it down.

The view from our porch was so peaceful. It was angled toward the Auden's house, but we tilted the chairs more to the right, towards the fields, so we didn't seem like creeps staring at their house all day.

I was watching the chickens peck at the ground and wrestle with each other when I recognized a pick-up truck driving down the road. It was rusted and more orange than red from all the fading, but I knew who it belonged to. The truck pulled in front of my house and to my surprise, out popped the younger version of Kiersten. Keating, if I remember.

"Hey, Nelly, right?" she approached the porch. I nodded and watched her place her foot on the first porch step, leaning her elbows on it. "I'm Keating, from last night. Listen, sorry for being such a grouch, I was super tired and didn't want to be there. I had been hunting all day and just wanted to go to sleep," she explained.

"Oh, it's okay," I breathed a laugh. There was a small silence. I didn't exactly know what to say. All I knew is that I'd like to make a friend. "I know it's early, but would you want some wine?" I offered, hoping she'd say yes. Keating smiled and jogged up the rest of the steps.

"Yeah, actually, I'd love some. Can I sit?" she asked as she pointed to the other wicker chair. I nodded and she plopped herself down. Lucky I had brought two wine glasses out here. I thought my mom might join me, but she never did.

"I only have white, is that okay with you?" I asked before I poured. She pursed her bottom lip and shook her head to say she didn't care.

"A drink before five is always fine with me, I don't care what it is," Keating said. I nodded and handed her the glass, watching her take a sip and instantly relax. "So, what's got you drinking wine at lunch time?" she piped up. I let out a soft chuckle.

"Mmm.... Must be a habit I'm picking up from my mom," I answered, drinking my own wine. In the light of my company, I tried not to scrunch my nose up too much. The effect of liquor was more than welcome, but the taste? Not so much.

"Ah, yes. I've picked up many bad habits from my mom, too," Keating laughed. I smiled at her with my lips against my glass.

"Name one," I kept on, hoping to keep the conversation flowing. Keating raised her eyebrows and tilted her wine to the side.

"Hunting. That's a big one." She saluted the activity with her glass, raising it in the air before taking another sip.

"Oh yeah? Like deer and stuff?" I asked.

"Ehh, more or less," Keating answered. "I'm not so hardcore, but my mom is addicted. That woman took me hunting from the time I was three to now. She's fuckin' crazy, I'll tell you." Keating snorted, looking somewhere incoherent in front of her, most likely thinking about her mom. I took another sip of my wine and looked to where she was looking.

"Is that why she gave us that shotgun?" I looked at the side of Keating's face. I thought I'd get an answer right away, but instead she looked almost pained in thought. Then, out of nowhere, she burst out laughing.

"No," she breathed in between laughs. I was so confused. I stared at her with a contagious smile, watching as she almost went to tears from laughing so much.