Page 35 of Blue Jeans in Low Beams

I nod, understanding everything that is being left unsaid. Rhythm and Brews, the massive beer and bluegrass festival that Hickory Hills hosts over Labor Day weekend, is the pride of this small town. Despite all the other events we put on, Rhythm and Brews is the crown jewel in our cap. Thousands of people descend on our community every year, helping us raise money for the local high school. It’s a major undertaking—to say the least—and the committee that heads it all up meets year-round in order to pull it off.

“Here to study?”

I nod, opening my mouth to respond, but am cut off by a sudden cacophony. Voices carry from the back corner again, although this time none of them are as clear as Willa’s. Nonetheless, it’s clear that there’s a disagreement.

“I should get back,” Kenzie tells me, polite smile still in place. My heart goes out to her, because that’s not something I would ever want to deal with. Not with the personalities we have in this town. “May I suggest the children’s section? It’s deserted, and there’s a table in there where you can spread out.”

“Thanks,” I say, nodding again. “And err…good luck.”

Kenzie gives me a silent thanks with her eyes and turns to go, while I take a right into the children’s section. Sure enough, there’s a large table by the back window that is perfect for studying. A little low to the ground, since it’s built for smaller legs than mine, but nothing I can’t adapt to. Especially if it means that I can start to get all this set in my memory.

Getting all settled in, I open up my practice test and start reading about Rebekah, a twenty-nine-year-old female who is about to undergo a medical procedure that requires sedation and analgesia, and has a history of allergic reaction to lidocaine. The question continues, talking about how because of the previous lidocaine reactions, her doctors are considering using ketamine, and what her medication history and other vital stats are.

It’s a lot to process, registering what each of these items really represents and how they are related to each other, but I follow along, fairly confident I know the answer to the ultimate part of this question—Which of the following statements regarding the use of ketamine for short-term procedural sedation and analgesia are correct?

“Isn’t ketamine a horse tranquilizer?”

Mell’s voice cuts through my thoughts, breaking all my concentration. I spin in my chair to see her leaning over my shoulder, reading my practice test.

“It’s often used that way, yes. But it’s a dissociative anesthetic that’s used medically for a lot of things, including anesthesia, depression, and pain management.”

“So what’s the answer to your question there?”

I look back at the test, scanning the answers.

“E, The use of ketamine requires continuous monitoring of vital signs, including blood pressure and heart rate.”

Mell nods, taking my word for it. She was a communications major in college, focusing more on things like nonverbal communication and public relations than on the chemical makeup of anything.

“You’re, like, smart. Like, actual real, scary smart. You know that?”

I laugh, dismissing the comment. I’m far from that. Chemistry makes sense in my head. At least this kind of chemistry. The chemistry between a man and a woman—like the chemistry between Milo and me—that stuff still baffles me.

“Whatcha doin’ here?” I ask as she parks herself in the chair next to me. “I’m sure you didn’t magically show up to help quiz me on”—I look over at the next question—“penicillin allergies.”

“Mom dragged me to a Rhythm and Brews meeting. Apparently since I’m here, I should contribute to the community.”

Yikes…

“Sounds like that meeting is going well.”

“If by well, you mean that Miss Belle had to stop Willa from lunging across the table and strangling Mrs. Chamberlain for volunteering that Hayes cover the extra cost for more tables and chairs under the new food tent, then yes, it’s going very well.”

“I think I'll stick with the killer cillins.”

“Good choice.”

We both laugh, but despite the levity of the moment, guilt starts to gnaw at me. I haven’t spent as much time with Mell this summer as I had promised. She’s been understanding, encouraging me to study as much as I can so I can kick ass on the boards. Her belief in me is undeserved, but I’m forever thankful for it.

But that’s not the only reason.

I haven’t told Mell about Milo. At least not the date part. Or the part where I word vomited at him about my lack of second dates. When she asked how dinner went with the Hayeses that night, I kept the answer simple, telling her what Miss Belle served, that Willa and Gus bickered the whole time, and that they all loved the slutty brownies. All of which is the truth.

There was just also the ride home.

And the date that followed. And the kiss.

That kiss…