Just

Chapter 9

That basically summed up our day. We rode around a bit, made out even more, and just spent the day in the sun. I’m sure I’ll have a farmers tan after today. Which is a shame, I worked on my tan all summer, but with very little success.

                Better than Niall, though. You can take the boy out of Ireland but that does not mean he will tan any better.

                We managed to get both four wheelers back into the shed without any trouble. And we got back before Georgia so there would be no last minute explaining that we needed to do. The Barn Bitches were already gone so Niall and I were the last ones left. We changed our shoes before leaving.

                We were both covered in our fair share of dirt, but Niall isn’t the kind of guy who freaks out when his car gets a little dirt in it. I, on the other hand, won’t let dirt sit on the seats of my car.

                Of course, my car has never actually been out to the barn, so I haven’t tested out this whole mindset of mine…

                Anyway, so Niall dropped me off at my house around 5:30.

                “Please be here by 6:30,” I pleaded with him.

                “I’ll do my best.”

                “Niall.”

                “Heavyn.”

                “I know you’re going to sit around for ages and then at 7:00 you’re going to realize you haven’t even begun to get ready.”

                “Glad we understand each other.” Apparently he thought this was amusing.

                “Niall-“

                He kissed me before I had the chance to complain.

                “Shut up. I’ll be here before seven.”

                I rolled my eyes, kissing him again, and then got out of the car. “Six thirty!” I called, just as I closed the car door. I know 6:30 means 7:00 for him. Whatever. He’ll get here when he gets here.

                I unlock the front door, and turn around to wave to Niall, and walk inside closing the door behind me. I’m greeted by a drooling Jackson, who receives an affectionate pat on the head.

                “Heavyn?” My mother calls from the kitchen.

                “Hi Momma,” I said, dropping my purse onto one of the bar stools. When she looked at me, she wasn’t smiling. She was wearing black dress pants and a burgundy shirt that was way too tight for her chest. “Is that my shirt?”

                She looked down at the shirt, with almost a distasteful look. “I wasn’t sure. I thought it may have been, but I thought it was too small for you.”

                Okay, let me explain. My mother is more conscious about my weight than I am. Ever since I had been pregnant, she’s always thrown in little comments about my weight. Even just before we went back to school shopping, she said we should wait to buy me new clothes until I lose some weight.

                What mother says that?

                “Really? Can you explain to me why your tits are almost falling out then?” I asked, popping a grape into my mouth. My mother isn’t exactly a skinny Minnie either. And I weigh less than her, for that matter.