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Dirty, Old Truck.

By , Dallas, TX
Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Perfect smile.
She was my girl. All mine.

I remember when we were sitting in that Mexican restaurant that she loved. Her perfectly-made taco salad, without the "carb-filled cheese and taco shell". She hated those things. I, of course, was sitting across from her. My mouth was filled with a burrito that was stuffed until it could hold no more.

"Duke..." she sighed with emphasis.

I looked at her, eyebrows raised, in mid-chew of my burrito.

"You are such a disgusting eater," Brianna groaned at me, then she added.

"People are staring."

I glanced around, nobody was looking over at us. Or at least no one that I could see. I gulped down my burrito chunk and swished it down with my water.

"No they're not," I replied.

She looked hurt. I sighed and held her hands across the table.

"I didn't mean it like that," I reassured her.

She smiled half-heartedly and put her fork down, only half-done with her salad.

"Can you take me home now?" she asked.

My stomach dropped. But, I nodded anyways, helping her out of the booth and leaving a wad of cash on the table.

"Um... thank you for dinner, Duke," she said emotionless.

I closed the restaurant door behind her without a word. We climbed into my red, Chevy truck and she brushed off the seat with a tissue before she sat down. That annoyed me, but I didn't let it show. We drove down the road, she turned on my radio, another thing that was off-limits, and started listening to some techno-pop.

"This is my turn, Duke," she said.

"I know," I replied.

"2221 Haverty drive," she said again.

"I know," I replied again, starting to hear a bit of coolness in my voice.

She glared at me. I knew what was coming next.



"I'll call you later, Duke," she said in a flat voice.

I nodded slowly, reaching across her to open the door.

"You know, a gentleman is supposed to open the door for a proper lady," she murmured.

"Yeah, I know. That's why I did," I replied.

She slipped out of the truck as lady-like as she could. It didn't work, and she landed wrong on her heel. The heel broke off and she groaned. I thought for a minute. Should I help her? Should I drive off? I decided on the second idea, considering that she wouldn't die by walking twenty feet to her house.

I didn't look back as I drove away, and I never did. She never called me again, and I never cared. She wasn't my kind of girl, and apparently, I wasn't her "type" as I was told the next week.

I continued my football career at school, I continued to hang out with my friends, I continued to be a handyman around town. Men don't take breakups quite as hard as girls do... at least I don't. Pretty soon, however, I saw her with Harrison Lord. That still didn't bother me. I was not friends with Harrison. He was not on the football team. He was not a true boy. Not that you have to be on the football team to be a true boy. But, he sat in his room all day, texting, playing video games, trying to be cool when he knew he couldn't.

One day, a few weeks after my breakup with Brianna. I was driving down the highway in my mud-covered truck, its bed filled with two-by-fours that I had to deliver to Mrs. Belle's yard. My job was to build her a shed for her horses. That's when I saw it, a small, red car pulled off to the side of the road. Nobody was pulling over, and Mom had always told me that random acts of kindness always earned God's approval. I wasn't so sure about God "approving me", but I felt like I should help whoever's car that was.

I pulled off the highway, over in front of the car, then I backed up until I was a few yards from the car. Her voice was obviously stressed, yet she was trying to keep a sense of calmness.

"Yes, I- yes , Mom I know, but-" she continued to be cut off.

She finally stopped talking. She closed her phone and kicked the wheel of her car.

I walked over.

"Do you need any help?" I asked.

She looked at me. Her face was masked by worry and yet she still managed to smile.

"Yeah. That'd be great," she nodded.

I walked up to her and held out my hand. She smiled and shook it.

"What do you need me to do?" I replied, examining her car.

"Well... the engine is shot. It's a pretty old car and I was just waiting for it to break down," she said, her smile fading.

"Do you need a ride or something? I can drop you off at your house if you want me to," I offered.

She nodded.

"Yeah, I think that'd work. Do you know where Brinkley Estates is?" she asked.

"Yeah, that's my old, uh, neighborhood," I replied.

Brinkley Estates wasn't exactly a neighborhood. It was more of a dirt road with a few houses on it.

"Cool. Um-" she trailed off.

"Um what?" I asked.

"Just that... I don't know. You never told me your name," she admitted.

I looked at her. Her eyes were very pretty, a fierce green.

"Duke... Duke Morgan," I introduced myself.

She grinned.

"That's more like it," she said.

I noticed her slight southern drawl. It was cute. She was cute.

"And you are?" I asked, a smile sneaking onto my face.

"Logan. Logan Mitchell," she brushed her dark hair behind her ear.

Logan. That was a good name for her. I could tell by the way she dressed that she was a Tomboy, trademark Nike shorts, fitting t-shirt, Nike sneakers.

"Nice to meet you, Logan," I smiled and opened the door for her.

She climbed in, not in a "lady-like" fashion. Just hopped right on up into the passenger seat. I smiled at her, unintentional, but it seemed to do the trick. She smiled back, her teeth whiter than Brianna's bleached white ones. I closed the door after her, noticing how dirty my truck was. I needed to wash it. I closed the door after myself, turned the key, and jumped when my country music blasted on. Logan jumped as well, and I apologized about fifty times before I realized that she was laughing.

"It's fine!" she placed a hand on my shoulder.

I looked down at it, looked back up at her, and looked back at the radio. It was bad. It was bad how I already liked her even though I had only met her. It made me hesitate, but I regained my ability to use my mind. So I laughed along with her.

It's been two years since then. Logan and I started to date a week after that. She helped me build that shed for Mrs. Belle. She also helped me wash that old truck of mine that has held up since then. It's still as dirty as it was then. But, at least it's been cleaned once or twice.

Her head is on my chest at the moment. Her fingers are slipped through mine. We're at our favorite place right now. It's the big pasture that Mrs. Belle gave to my family. The grass is soft and the sky is perfect and blue. She looks at me and my heart melts. Those fierce green eyes are filled with love and happiness.

Dark hair. Green eyes. Brilliant, Perfect smile.

She is my girl.

All mine.





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