Page 102 of The Other Side

She covers the top of my hand with her palm, and I flick my attention back to the open road. Our fingers reflexively tangle together, a smirk landing on my face.

I quickly release the wheel to spin my snapback forward as I say, “I thought for sure you’d have a song ringing through these speakers by now.”

When I chuck my eyes to her, her chestnut locks wag as she stares out the glass. “I didn’t expect the view to be this pretty,” she confesses lowly.

I swallow roughly when I shift back in my seat. The chafing of my jeans fills the silence momentarily. Pink and lavender hues decorate the horizon in the distance, framed by rows of pine trees.

And I figure she’s right.

There’s color and light.

Two things we could never cherish when we lived in West Virginia. They were always fleeting. Never hanging around long enough to stain our hearts permanently.

I unlock my hand from hers, reaching for the touch screen to tap to a Spotify playlist. Russell Dickerson’s “Blue Tacoma” vibrates through the truck, and Callie’s body whips to me. Her supple lips hover over the shell of my ear, and my elbow props on the console to brush my fingers under her chin.

“Your Tacoma is black. Not blue,” she purrs playfully.

My teeth graze my lower lip. “The sun is just starting to sink. Maybe it’ll look lighter if you peek out the window.”

I switch hands to control the steering wheel with my right. My free fingers connect with the toggle switch on my door, and Callie’s giggle collides with the country hit.

Her palm swipes her whipping locks from her face. For a split beat, I watch the way she peeks over her shoulder at the open window.

She buttons her lips in debate.

“Go.” I tap my palm to her hip, nudging her decision as my eyes return to the road. “I’m not gonna forgive you if you don’t,” I tease.

She’s already shuffling to her knees on the leather seat. Her backside faces me as she leans out the passenger-side window, her stomach balancing on the bottom part of the frame.

I’m grinning as my right hand softly hooks around her thigh. Just as the chorus enters, Callie’s pivoting her head to shine a huge smile over her shoulder.

Then she lets the rapid breeze carry her attention away.

Every now and then, I catch glimpses of her long hair tangling with the wind. Her eyes flutter closed before she tips her chin up, and the lowering sun latches onto her creamy skin.

She’s glowing under the sun-kissed sky, the light feeding her energy to flourish.

“Okay, I need your hat.”

I’m snickering as I extend an arm to the backseat. I pluck my cowboy hat off the leather, placing the black brim in her impatient palm.

Then she’s slipping the hat on her head.

I lightly slap her ass through the material of her dress, and she jerks on a squeal. “You lose that hat, you can forget about The 1984 Barn!”

“You lie!” she shouts back, clutching the crown of the hat in place.

I do.

“I’d just go by myself anyway,” she adds, hollering over the swoosh of wind and Russell’s voice.

I smile as my palm curls tighter around her inner thigh. I’m making sure she’s not going to fall out of this damn truck. “Yeah, right,” I shoot back.

When she doesn’t respond, my head pivots to her.

A smile is etched on my face the entire time I drink her in.

Her hooded eyes sparkle as strands of her hair fly in every direction under the hat. But her stare locks on the road ahead.