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The can makes its way to me.
“I should go find my friend.”I step back, convincing myself to say something to the cute cowboy as I pass him.
“She’s gone.Left with Albert.But she said you wanted a soda.I’m Dylan, by the way.”
“Jasmine.”I jiggle the keys in my pocket, thankful I’m not stranded out here.“Thanks for the drink.Have you met these guys?”
While he’s distracted with introductions, I glance out to the field where the vehicles are parked.Her car is still blocked in by people who have no clue how to park.People are starting to leave, but so far, the right ones haven’t vacated the lot.
I can’t believe she left me.
Praying I won’t snap my newly painted nails, I pop the top of the soda can.
Being the focus of so many guys’ attention isn’t typical for me.And the only reason I am is because of the guy-to-girl ratio out here by the fire.The women in heels have given up trying to walk on this dirt without turning an ankle.They might be in the barn or maybe they’ve all left.
Even though I’m at a party in the middle of nowhere where I know no one, I refuse to panic.I’ll chitchat like a normal person, then leave as soon as the car isn’t blocked in.
I steal another glance at the cowboy.He’s here alone, and he has an off-brand soda in his hand just like me.Maybe he’s someone’s designated driver.I think that’s why Ingrid wanted me to come, but now I’m just my own designated driver.
The cowboy tips his hat.
Why won’t he come talk to me?
“The safety ratings on the Tesla are incredible.”John points at Dylan.“And have you driven one?They’re fast.”
Dylan nods.“They are fast.But I love my Tundra.It was born here.”He maneuvers his way in beside me and leans in close.“The Tundras are made at a factory here in San Antonio.”
“Oh.Neat.”I sip my drink.
Drinking soda is a good way to avoid talking.It pairs well with nodding and pretending to listen as guys talk about cars and themselves.But my can is empty way too soon.
“Finished with that?Can I get you another?”Dylan reaches for my empty can.
“I, um, should...probably...”I survey the field again, hoping lots of people have left in the time it took me to drink a soda.
They haven’t.
The guys follow my gaze, and one of the blonds—Joe or Peter—scrunches up his face.“Oh no.That’s kind of a mess.Is your car blocked in?”
I nod.
With a click of his tongue, he shakes his head.“You aren’t going anywhere soon.”
“Looks that way.”
Dylan hands me another soda and chuckles.“Since you’re trapped.”
Pasting on what I hopes appears to be a friendly smile, I open the soda, ready to endure more mindless small talk.Maybe if I steer the conversation, it could be interesting.“Any of y’all like to garden?”
Every one of the guys laughs.Loudly.
No one bothers to give an actual answer.They start talking about throttle and torque, and it all sounds like gibberish to me.
The cute cowboy has moved.But when I lean, trying to find him, I lose my balance and bump John.He smiles like it wasn’t an accident.
“Sorry.”I back away from him and blink, trying to shake a weirdness.I don’t feel right.
What I’m drinking is definitely a soda, and I opened the can myself.Both of them.
But considering that the barn is now tilting sideways and I’m the only one noticing tells me that something is very wrong.
Is it possible to be allergic to pig saliva?
How in the world am I going to get home?
