How much tragedy does it take before someone snaps?
Raised by the president of the Rogue Dogs Motorcycle Club, who just happens to be her uncle, had given Teresa-James O'Dell a tough skin. She didn't waste her time with the gossiping girls who saw...
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16 years old
"Where are we going," I asked with the phone wedged between my shoulder and ear. Wyatt was being no help as I stared into my tiny closet. Dresses and skirts were out if we were taking the bike. With the weather finally mellowing, it was a strong possibility. "I need to know so I can dress accordingly."
"Wear something nice."
"My nice, or your nice?"
"Remind me the difference?" I could hear the tease in his voice and I let the dramatic sigh fill the line.
"Your nice is clean jeans, a clean basic tee and your leather jacket. Mine would be a nice blouse, a cute skirt and heels."
"Wear that."
"I'm not getting on your bike wearing strappy heels, Wyatt." A chuckle came through the line. "It's not funny."
"We aren't taking the bike, little fox. Ollie's lending me that sorry excuse of a truck."
"Don't sound too grateful, Mason-Dixon."
"Just put your face on and grab those strappy heels, fox. I'll be there in a half hour. You better be ready."
"Yeah. Yeah," I sighed again. He let loose another soft chuckle before we hung up. I was still in the dark on what exactly I was supposed to expect. Were we going to dinner and a movie? If we were taking Oliver's truck, were we going off-roading? Then why would he tell me to dress nice?
Wyatt got to my house right on time. Given how little he cared about getting to class, you would never know he had a punctual bone in his body. Yet, here he is. Proving me wrong about everything I knew about him. He was wearing clean jeans and the leather jacket. Instead of the tee shirt, he wore a white button down. The clunky combat boots I had grown accustomed to seeing were now his own western boots. The black leather held evidence that they were recently shined.
The thing that really caught my attention was the small bouquet of hydrangeas. Big, blue fluffs of flowers that smelled like spring. My aunt's cooing hadn't even embarrassed me as she took the flowers. It was the first time I was able to tune her out. When he took his turn in scanning me over, I tried hard not to fidget. Would he approve of the simple dress and, yes, the strappy heels?
"Please tell me I'm -"
"You're not overdressed," he beamed as his eyes met mine, "You look amazing."
"Are you going to tell me where we're going now?"
"I don't think so." He offered me a hand with a cocky smile. He helped me get into the beast of a truck before getting in on the driver's side. The radio flicked to life and I took control of finding something to fill the silence. I could pester him for answers, but that would lead to more cocky smirks.
It was still early enough that we were riding with the sun low in the sky behind us. I raised a brow in his direction when we got on the interstate. He grinned at me before focusing back on the road. His fingers flipped through the stations on the old radio, clearly in search of something that he had yet to find. Finally settling on a rock station, his fingers drummed against the steering wheel.
