A/N: hey all. It's meeee! Anyway. This story came to me while listening to "Dirt on My Boots" by Jon Pardi. Idk what will come of it but this is just a teaser chapter to gauge interest so please review.
All my love, MP
He stared at her across the dancefloor of the refurbished barn. She was talking to Mrs. O'Grady. The light caught on his light tan cowboy hat as his head straightened up to look at her more closely. His boots tapped against the acrylic to the music as he watched.
She was taller than most of the girls from town, with sunkissed skin and chocolate and caramel colored hair that fell down her back in ringlets. She wore a dark brown cowgirl hat, a pale blush chiffon floral summer dress and matching worn brown cowboy boots. They too, he noticed, tapped a long to the beat. She was an intoxicating creature.
Suddenly her eyes leveled on his own and his heart doubled its speed beneath his chest and his pale tan plaid shirt. She was watching him too. She smiled at something Mrs. O'Grady said and then dropped her gaze to the floor.
He stood, red solo cup in hand, across the room from her, willing himself to move but to no avail. He stayed rooted to the spot while his date was at the refreshments table, in her acid washed Daisy Duke jeans, tied up white button down shirt and high heeled cowgirl boots. Her bob swished back and forth as she worked her feminine magic on some kid with glasses they had graduated with.
He took a sip of his drink, wincing against the burn of the alcohol and began watching the sun kissed beauty again. This time she was talking to a tall brunette man, wearing a dark blue argyle patterned plaid shirt, tight denim jeans and polished black boots. He had to admit to himself the man had a unique style. There seemed to be a platonic air between the two so he felt himself relax.
Why was he worried about her interactions? He wondered to himself. She was just some girl at the annual 'Barn Ball', to celebrate a dying architectural art. But, he stopped himself, she was not just some girl. Something about her was different. He couldn't place his finger on it, but he could tell there was something unique about her.
Eventually he forgot the girl in the blush dress, and circulated himself around the party, talking to his old friend, and some acquaintances. He moved to the snack table for a slice of Mister McNassis' strawberry rhubarb pie and her heard a melodious laugh beside him.
He turned in a half circle to see his side occupied by the girl in the blush dress. He almost talked to her but then he noticed a red headed man walk up to her with a blue solo cup which she took graciously. He grabbed a plate with a piece of pie on it and walked away to sulk. He didn't see her again that night. Or the next day. She was just gone. In the snap of a finger. Like a balloon on a gust of wind