Not Your Typical Country Girl

Chapter Three- Drugs, underwear, and Jeans

Chapter three

"And what exactly are you supposed to do for them?" I asked.

Clay looked at me as if I was crazy. "What do you mean? Do you really know nothing about romance?"

Well no. "Uhh...nope. I don't know that much." I could feel the flush growing in color on hy cheeks. "I can't really afford going to the movies...never been on an actual date...and I'm sure you've heard about my momma and pop." I sighed. "My brother was gay, so I've never had much of an exapmle around me so....I'm pretty much a loser when it comes to boys."

"A bad girl, with the image of being drunk and high all the time. Is a loser when it comes to boys?"

"Give me a break. It's not my fault!" I shouted.

He set me back on the ground and grabbed my shoulders, looking me in the eyes. "I've seen you." He said. "At school, parties, everywhere. Boy's at school want you, girls want to be you. And you can't get a date?"

Being back on the ground hurt my feet, my eyes filled with salty tears and the burning sensation made me rub my eyes. "I don't want to date!" I scretched closing my eyes and crying.

"What's wrong?" He asked paniced, pulling my wrists away from my face.

I tried to fight his hands off, my mine racing a mile a minute, flashbacks of my parents, my brother, my life. It made me scarred. Terrified. "Don't touch me!" I screamed, slapping him across the face.

He stumbled back, and when his hands left my arms, it all stopped. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

"I..I.I..I have no idea....I just..." I sank to my knees, hiding my face in my hands. "It was..it was just your hands...I..I don't like it when people touch me...ever."

"But when I was carrying you, you were fine. What the hell happened?"

I shook my head as tears continued to fall down my cheeks. "I just hate it when people touch me." I paused and looked up at him. "My daddy...he's terrible...when i was little....I just..I'm really sorry."

Before I knew what was happening, he was hugging me. Something that's never happened since Adam left my grandparents house last summer. Not even Ryan hugs me. It's just the things we do to freak out the preacher. My arms didn't wrap around him, just stayed stuck to my sides.

"Can you let go now?"

"No." He whispered. "Because you need someone. Someone to be there for you." He paused and pulled away from me, and kept firm hands on my shoulders. "I'm gonna be that someone."

I shook my head and shoved him away. "Can't I just go get high or something. Leave me alone."

He smirked and picked me up again. "You can go get high. But I'm gonna get high with you."

And that's exactly what we did.

For three days, we stayed at his house, which was just a cottage style home on the back of his Aunt and Uncle's 45 acre ranch. Sunday night we smoked weed, which apparently he grows. Monday morning we snuck into his Aunt's house and he made a three course breakfast. Monday night was amazing. He had left around noon and come back at six. With six tablets of acid. Tuesday was boring. We laid in the hay loft of George's barn all day and into wednesday morning. On Wednesday we just talked. Awkwardly holding hands sitting our backs against the couch, telling stories and talking about random shit.

Now it's thursday, we haven't eaten anything other then whatever snack foods he had in the fridge, and all we brank was beer. Keeping drunken minds and sobor hearts, as some would say.