Hey marshmallows!! As you may know Puerto Rico got hit real bad with Hurricane Maria, and phone and internet services haven't been too stable for the past month. I took this opportunity to write a loooong ass chapter for y'alls enjoyment and I hope you guys like it!!❤️❤️
Note: I edited the previous chapters (just a few tweaks, nothing big), so y'all might wanna go back a bit and re-read 'em ;)))
See if you can name our special guest in the comments! 💖
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The young man tapped a worn, brown boot on the ground anxiously beside you, a hand hugging his beloved hat to his chest, the other close to his face as he bit his thumb nail, a jittery action he did unconsciously when nervous.
Even as the sun had begun to hide and the night had started to crawl along the edges of the horizon, the air still felt dry and hot, enough to make you sweat a bit, but not as much as this poor boy was doing. His behavior closely portrayed a small panic attack.
He stopped for a few seconds, scratching his head absentmindedly as he looked away from you briefly, a deep frown on his tan features. You cleared your throat softly, awkwardly rubbing your arm as you glanced at Mick beside you, who was currently stuffing a paper towel in his nose, and once again stared at the boy's pick up truck.
The back window was positively shattered, leaving one to think it might've been caused by an angry team of Little Leagues Baseball players, not a woman on her mid-twenties with an old baseball and a insane throwing arm.
The boy wiped his face with the red bandanna around his neck, fanning his face with the hat as he stared hard at his truck, beginning to regret not hopping in it and driving away as fast as he could from the crazy lady and the lanky man beside her.
"My pa's gonna kill me.." he began, looking back at you for the first time in ten minutes. You cringed inwardly, a deep frown on your features as you looked back at Mick, who gave you a worried glance in return.
Thinking back to what had happened, you sighed.
~*~ flashback ~*~
The chipped-red pickup truck screeched to a halt, tires lifting sand and dust from the ground below them.
You walked closer tentatively, Mick trailing behind you.
Almost reaching the driver's door, Mick blocked your path, insisting you let him talk to the person first, for safety of course.
As he walked forth a young man stepped out of the old vehicle, red bandanna tied around his neck and a worn stetson covering his wavy, brown locks. If you hadn't known better, you would've thought the boy jumped through a T.V. straight from an old western film.
Mick began, "S'cuse me sir, we're very sor-!!"
WHAM!
The young man punched Mick straight in the nose, both their hats sent flying from the sheer speed and impact.
"Hey!! What was that for?!?" You screamed furiously, kneeling down next to Mick, checking his injuries.
His nose was beginning to turn purple and it bled a little, but besides the obvious, he seemed to be okay.
"Y'all have no right to wreck ma' truck like that!" The boy screamed, pointing at his truck for emphasis. "That's the least he deserves!"
You stood up angrily, standing in front of Mick in a protective stance. His heart couldn't have fluttered more at the gesture.
YOU ARE READING
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