"I did not know you lived all the way out here," Randy said, shifting nervously and glancing around at the old trees and the woodens fences and the horses.

"Yeah, it's a nice place. Really far out, but oh well," Theresa replied, shrugging. "The bay is my horse- his name's Gordon."

"Oh, really creative," Randy replied, smiling. Theresa smiled back, before grabbing his hand.

"Come on. You're stalling," she said, stating to haul Randy towards the large farmhouse.

"You're the one who decided to tell me which horse is yours," he retorted, smirking and playfully nudging her.

"Too bad. Now hurry up!" She replied, and he followed helplessly as Theresa lead him towards her house. She opened the door, and he followed her in. "Mom! Dad! I'm home," she called, cupping a hand around her mouth. There was a little bit of commotion, and then a tall woman wearing a pair of work jeans and a t-shirt came walking out from what looked like an office.

"Hey there, Theresa," she said, hugging her daughter. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Randy," Theresa replied, hugging her mom back before stepping aside to point and Randy, who was standing there and looking like he wanted the earth to swallow him.

"Hi, Mrs. Fowler," he said, waving sheepishly.

"Just call me Amy," she replied. "Theresa, is this the Randy you keep telling me about?"

"Mom! Theresa complained, crossing her arms.

"She talks about me?" Randy asked, raising an eyebrow and looking at Theresa. She looked at him, blushing profusely. "Nice to know you think about me."

"She does talk about you a lot," Amy replied. "Almost as much as she talked about Debbie when they first started being friends."

"Mom," Theresa sighed, the blush fading from her cheeks.

"Don't worry," Randy said, nudging Theresa. "I'll be going through the same torture when you meet my parents."

"I know," she replied.

"If you would like to show Randy where the drinks are while I go get your dad…" Amy left the sentence open ended, and Theresa nodded as Amy left to get Mr. Fowler. Theresa grabbed Randy's forearm and lead him to the kitchen, before letting him go and opening the fridge.

"We have water, apple juice, and 7Up, oh and some Canada Dry," she said, straightening up to look at him over the top of the fridge door.

"I'll have some 7Up, thanks," he said, taking the can from her as she handed it to him. She grabbed herself some of the ginger ale, before leading him back into the living room where Amy and her husband where coming in from out back. Her husband was taking his boots off and setting his hat on a table. He had a day's worth of stubble on his face, and shaggy light brown hair. Randy took a deep breath and a sip of his soda.

"Hello," Theresa's dad said, looking over Randy like he was analyzing enemy forces.

"Hi," Randy said. He was glad he didn't squeak; his throat was closing up.

"Jim," Theresa's dad said, holding out his hand.

"Randy," he replied, shaking Jim's hand. He was un-freezing up and his throat was opening again.

"I've heard a lot about you," Jim said, looking thoughtful.

"Hopefully all good," Randy sighed, rolling his shoulders.

"Mostly," Jim replied. Randy started freezing up again.

"Dad!" Theresa whined, crossing her arms. "It's not funny when you torture my friends like this." Randy twitched a little bit, looking at Jim.

"Well, it sure is entertaining to watch them squirm," he replied. "Don't you two have a movie to get to?"

"Oh, yeah," Theresa said, grabbing her boyfriends arm.

"Be back by nine thirty," Jim said as they were leaving. "I'll just be out back shooting at the old smokehouse."

"What kind of gun does he have?" Randy asked, looking apprehensively at Theresa.

"A Browning .22. Why?" She replied, and Randy shrugged.

"Nothing, just wondering," he said, before swallowing nervously.

Yep. I was listening to country and had to write this.