Darlin'

Prolouge

Five Years ago...

Elk Mountain, Wyoming

As the wildflowers have lost their vibrant reds, oranges, blues, purples, and yellows that painted the surrounding landscape, the humidity of the summer nights was turning into the cool breeze of fall evenings. Many animals were seeing a change as they ventured on their own to face the cold winter. In a cut hay field that sat just far enough off the county road, the upcoming H-E-M wildcats' class of 2018 was also taking part in one of the last get-togethers they would have for a long time.

Quinn Lucas sat on his tailgate and looked out at the commotion with a certain dull look on his face. A group of football players fueled a massive bonfire with old tree limbs and leftover petroleum and diesel oil. Quinn rolled his eyes and just hoped for the sake of the quarterback, Derik Hillman, that they didn't burn his father's cattle pasture down and the rest of Elk Mountain. But that wasn't his concern tonight. Quinn was only interested in getting the five people that he came with a home safe and sound at least before sunrise.

As he sat alone in the vast crowd of underage drinkers, he tried to remember why he came out that night after not taking part in such activities all summer. It wasn't his buddies. They always begged for him to go out and he would stand firm and tell them he had to help his dad on the ranch or had practice. 'Maybe it was my parents. Dad did say that I had been working hard lately and needed a break. Mom said that I didn't want to waste my senior year and that if I worked the whole time, I would regret it one day.'

He never really saw the point of partying and going out to drink booze that kids either: stole from their parents, two: of their parents or older siblings were gracious enough to buy them some, or three: they bought their own with their fake i.d. Anyone of those excuses would have been believable to anyone who knew Quinn Lucas, but he knew deep down that neither of those reasons drugs him here tonight. It was not a what, but a who, and as he scanned the crowd, he spotted her.

She stood on the other side of the bonfire and Quinn could suddenly feel his heartbeat in his ears. She always was beautiful, but for some reason tonight, it radiated off of her sending Quinn into a trance.

Sawyer Taylor, the poster child for that famous catchphrase, America's Sweetheart. Quinn noticed that she added a spin to her iconic look: her high, long ponytail, little makeup, men's 'Cinch' jeans, and a pair of beaten-up checkered vans that commonly made their appearance at the rodeo and in shop class. He couldn't tell if it was the yellow tee she was wearing or if Sawyer was radiating happiness off of her.

He knew that she could hold her own if she needed to, but Quinn couldn't help but try to keep an eye on her. Soon his attention was pulled from her and he focused back on the conversation that his friend, Lance McClure was trying to have with him. "I tell you what Quinn, I wish that every night could only be like this."

Lance threw himself onto the tailgate and took one look at their two friends to Quinn's right and drew in a sharp breath. "How long have they been at that?"

Quinn shrugged his shoulders and took a swig from his bottle. "I don't know. A while, I suppose."

Without hesitation, Lance casually slung his arm around Quinn and let some of the liquid from the bottle pour down the fronts of his friends. Jake let out a string of swears and his girlfriend, Kaitlyn McDonnell let out a shriek. "Lance, I will get you for that!" Jake growled, aggressively wiping beer from him and Kaitlyn.

"Well then, don't make out right next to people and for everyone and their mother to see." Lance shot back. "We get it. You guys are in love. Now take your love away from here and somewhere private. No one wants to see you do the horizontal hokey-pokey."