I search through Scotty’s selection of country CDs while we drive through town, headed to nowhere. The warm breeze is pushing my mess of brown locks around my face, like a refreshing hint of the summer that is to come.
"You like country music?" he asks.
"I love it!" I exclaim, brandishing a Rascal Flatts CD before popping it in the player. "Who’s your favorite country artist?"
"Gosh, that’s probably the hardest question you could’ve asked me," Scotty replies with a smile. He chews on his lower lip for a minute, thinking his answer over carefully. "I’d probably have to say…Josh Turner. He’s the man."
"I’ll say. You know, you kind of remind me of him," I speculate.
With your deep voice…and perfect face…and… oh gosh! Did I really just say that?
Scotty looks over at me as we pull up to a red light, raising an eyebrow in what appears to be natural shock. “Seriously? That’s the best compliment I’ve ever recieved. Especially considering the fact that I hope to become a country artist myself one day.”
"Really? That’s amazing. I’d love to hear you sing sometime," I say bashfully.
"I’m sure you will soon enough. I can’t ever seem to stop singing. Sometimes I sing and don’t even notice I’m doing it. Is that crazy?" He gifts me with a genuine, boyish grin.
"Not at all. I do the same thing, only more so with words. I’ll have imaginary conversations with myself all the time. It’s quite embarrassing, actually." I can’t believe I’m being so open with him, and yet it feels so natural. Usually it takes me ages before I can feel so comfortable around someone.
"Hm. That’s kinda cute," he says softly, and I can’t help but wonder if he even meant to say it.
"Scotty?"
"Mmm?"
"I know I told you to take me wherever you wanted but…where are we going exactly?” I tap my fingers in sync with Waiting All My Life.
Scotty’s sky blue eyes drift over to mine for the briefest of seconds, and a smile transforms his perfect lips. “You’ll see.”
I stare out the window at the trees and houses passing by. For a second, it feels like they’re moving and Scotty and I are just two people sitting in the midst of it all. I’m about to share this thought with him when we pull to a stop in front of a classic brick house with a beautiful front porch.
"I thought it’d be nice if you met my family real quick before our little date tomorrow," he says, winking over at me.
Immediately, I start to panic. I’m wearing jeans that are ripped a little around the knees, Converse that are worn to the sole, and a baggy sweatshirt which far from flatters my hourglass figure. If I’d known Scotty had this in mind, I would’ve asked him to stop by my house real quick so I could change and apply some makeup. Brush my hair and teeth. Quickly, I run my fingers through my hair and slip a breath mint in my mouth, just as Scotty opens the door.
I step out and take a better look at the house before me. The shutters are painted a shiny black, and a fence prevents onlookers from seeing into the backyard from the street. A neat bed of flowers decorates the garden, and a windchime creates a soft melody in the distance. It is, in all honesty, the perfect house.
I’m so distracted by these observations that it takes a few seconds for my mind to register what happens next. I feel Scotty’s warm, manly palm closes around mine, his fingers filling the spaces between my own. He gives it a friendly squeeze, murmurs “C’mon” and leads me to the front door.
He turns the knob and we step into a small foyer, complete with shiny tile, a spiraling staircase, and a tall, open ceiling. Scotty tugs on my arm gently, his hand still holding onto mine tightly, and he guides me through a hallway into the kitchen. A woman is facing the sink, her back turned to us, and the smell of roast beef greets my nostrils.
"Mama, I know you’ve been dying to attend to those dishes, but I have someone I want you to meet," Scotty bellows from my left. All I can do is stand there, inhaling deep breaths like they’re my last. My hand is surely sweating, but either Scotty doesn’t notice or pretends not to.
The woman turns around. Her eyes land first on her son, then on me. I offer up a shy smile, wishing so badly that I could read her mind.
"Ma, this is Alexa. Alexa, this is my beautiful mother, the one and only Mrs. McCreery." I hear the smile in Scotty’s voice, but I force myself to maintain eye contact with his mother as my free hand reaches out to shake hers.
McCreery. So that’s what his last name is.
"It’s a pleasure," she says. "Scotty’s been talking about you nonstop the past few days. And he thought his spring break would be boring."
"I never said that," Scotty protests, and his mom laughs.
"Well, come on in. Make yourself at home, Alexa dear. Just let me finish up these dishes…Scotty, there’s a fresh pitcher of sweet tea in the fridge if you guys are thirsty. Oh, and your father went to pick up Ashley from the movies, he should be back shortly."
Instantly, I start to relax. Scotty pours us each a glass of sweet tea, and we all make small conversation. Mrs. McCreery asks me questions: how old I am, what grade I’m in, what I want to major in next year, what I like to do. Scotty’s hand has long let go of mine, but my skin is still tingling from where his had been.
"Mama, I was thinking of showing Alexa the music room. Is that alright?" Scotty asks before polishing off the last drop of his tea.
"Sure, go ahead. Dinner will be ready shortly. Alexa, are you staying?" She looks at me now, and I look at Scotty, unsure.
He shrugs and says, “You’re more than welcome.”
"Sure, just let me check with my dad first. I’m sure it’ll be okay."
"Great, I’ll be sure to set an extra plate at the table," Mrs. McCreery says with a smile. I can’t help but smile back as Scotty takes me by the hand once more and leads me out into the foyer again. We climb the stairs and walk down a long hallway lined with doors. Scotty pushes open the one at the very end and flips the light on.
A beautiful black piano rests in one corner, a collection of guitars in another. Shelves and shelves of CDs line the walls, and a lava lamp creates a cool, inviting atmosphere.
"It ain’t much, but it’s my favorite room of the house. I’m real glad that my grandparents let me use it. You should see my room back home, though," Scotty says, sliding his hands in his pockets while admiring the room.
"It’s really nice," is all I can manage to say.
"So…about that singing I told you about," he says, walking over to the guitars. He picks up a classic acoustic and strums on it for a few. Gesturing to the available seat in front of him, he smiles. "Take a seat."
I walk over to where he is and sit down on my hands to keep them from shaking as Scotty looks down at me, and it’s then that I realize how much I’ve fallen for him.
Scotty McCreery, I think I’m in love with you.
