Love's Rapture

Kelly: Tailgate Party

There were people everywhere. When Talon said we'd to be going to a tailgate party, I assumed there would only be a few people there. I was wrong.

I stayed close behind him as he made his way through the crowd, and Summer stayed behind me. Weaving in and out of people seemed like something you had to perfect over time. Having such a big family, you'd think I wouldn't have a problem being in such a large crowd, but I started feeling claustrophobic. The last time I was at that something like this had been with Breton, and it was a school dance. The memory assaulted me before I could stop it.

My dress was off white, covered in dazzling sparkles. It cinched in at the waist, accentuating my feminine curves, but the skirt was my favorite part. The fabric landed at the knees, swaying with even the smallest movement.

"I want you to marry me wearing a dress like this," Breton said as we moved slowly to the song's beat.

"How do you know I'm going to marry you?" I asked, smiling despite my efforts to keep a straight face. "Maybe I'll fall in love with a jock while I'm away at school and leave you in the dust."

Remembering the words I'd spoken to him caused an ache in my chest. I tried to shut out the memory and be present with Talon and Summer, but it didn't matter how far away I wanted to push it, it was still at the ends of my thoughts.

"What grade are you in, Summer?" I asked, trying to bring myself back.

"I'm a Junior. Talon and I have homeroom and P.E., together," she answered. "I help him with his math so he can stay on the football team. He sucks at math if you were wondering, but I come to the games to show my support."

I laughed even after Talon smirked at me. He slowed to walk beside me, and Summer raced ahead to get a hotdog from some random guy in a hotdog costume.

"Why is there a hotdog guy at a tailgate party?" I asked

"That's Ricky," he said.

"Ricky Turner? No, it's not!" I laughed. Once we got closer and saw it was Ricky, I started laughing.

"Hey, Ricky," I said, patting him on the arm. Ricky was Parker's age and had stuck around after graduation. He was now the assistant coach for middle school football, and he was, by far, Duke's favorite. He'd tried to recruit Graham so often, thinking he had the family sports gene, but my baby brother wanted nothing to do with it. Everyone assumed he was gothic, and while he completely looked like the perfect representation, he wasn't. He just loved black and equally enjoyed being anti-social. This was extremely weird because he was a bonafide people person whenever forced into a situation where he had to interact. He was his mother's son if that put it into perspective at all.

"What's up, Kelly?" he asked, handing me a plate of food.

"Not a whole lot. Just trying to get through senior year."

"Have you picked out which college you're going to yet?" he asked.

"Well, I was thinking of staying home, like Parker did for a while, but running away sounds nice, too." I smiled to take so much truth out of my words.

"What do you want to major in?"

"I want to teach art." I smiled shyly, somewhat embarrassed by my confession.

"I think that's awesome. I guess there are artists all over in your family," he said.

"Just Graham and I, as far as I'm aware. Although I have to admit, Dad is pretty spectacular at drawing stick figures." Ricky laughed so loud it drew the attention of the surrounding crowd. They noticed the hotdogs, and at least twenty more people bombarded him.