The Beautiful Truth

// 31

Talyn was...entertaining, to say the least.

After about an hour or so of playing catch-up with the scattering of people I could actually call my true friends from high school, I gave up, and went to sit on the back of Talyn's truck and simply observe. Drunk people at a field party were amusing, but that wasn't a revelation.

Thankfully, Talyn had backed his truck up so the tailgate was within warming distance of the large bonfire someone had thought to make. I was warm here—warm enough to unzip my heavy coat and enjoy the heat on my cheeks. Outside of my mittens, my fingers were thawed, too.

Talyn was wandering all over the place—oblivious to the cold because he was well on the way to being super drunk. I'd seen it before. Nothing I couldn't handle, although again, this wasn't the way I'd pictured this night going.

Not that I had any idea how I did see it going. I rolled my eyes and continued drinking from my first beer of the night.

"Hey, stranger," a deep, twangy voice called from across the fire.

I looked around—no one else was paying attention, those who were within earshot were involved in their own conversations. I squinted across the way—a familiar form walked around the fire pit and smiled bashfully, pressing his lips together and kicking the ground with his ever-present, signature cowboy boots.

I smirked. "Jason Mandrino. How the hell are you?"

He laughed, the smile breaking across his face a little more easily now. Almost like Talyn, he moved effortlessly as he walked closer. "Wow, Sawyer, you look good, kid."

I grinned and rolled my eyes. "Hmm...You look about the same..."

He knew I was teasing. "Can I join you?"

I looked at the dropped tailgate next to me and pushed Talyn's case of beer farther back into the bed. "Sure. How's OU treatin' you? I check your stats every now and then."

Jason hitched himself up onto the tailgate next to me and let his legs swing while he sipped on something from a red plastic cup. "Yeah, I don't get to play a lot right now, but next year..."

I smiled softly and watched as he kicked his feet, not really knowing what to say. There had always been this kind of awkward tension between us, but neither of us really seemed to mind. We otherwise had an easy friendship—neither of us felt it necessary to fill those stretches of silence with anything else.

Jason turned up his cup and offered it to me. "Want some? It's my dad's own—"

"Oh Jesus," I groaned, knowing what it was immediately. "Get that mess away from me."

He laughed, not pulling the cup of shine-wine back to himself. "No, honest, this is the best he's ever made. It's peach."

"Oh, it's flavored this time?" I asked skeptically.

"I mean I know it usually tastes like lighter fluid but this is really good. Trust me."

I resisted the urge to tell him I'd heard those words from him before, and it only lead to months of awkwardness and embarrassment. Instead, with great effort, I kept myself from chuckling and took the cup. The contents looked like orange juice, but smelled strange. I begrudgingly took as sip as he watched with his sparkling dark blue eyes.

Oddly enough, he was right. It tasted like peaches. And a little booze. I nodded in agreement. "Trade ya," I gestured to the case behind us in the truck.

Jason eyed it conspicuously, then nodded across the way toward Talyn. "You know, I'd take you up on that, but I think Hollywood might miss his Bud, don't you?"