Oklahoma, 2018 (Past)

Ruth loved the warmth of the Oklahoma sun before winter could take her turn blanketing the land with her white coat. She couldn't put her finger on why, but there was something magical about rolling all the windows down in her car to feel the humidity sliding over her brown arms with the wind whipping her wild curls across her face into a frenzy. Her lip gloss coated lips smacked open and close to match the rhythm of her bobbing head as she thread her fingers lyrically through each verse of Redbone's "Come and Get Your Love". She turned up the volume, a satisfied grin flashing across her full lips.

Being back in town for Ruth's final year of community college in Oklahoma before she moved on was bittersweet. Making the jump from California, to a rural town in Oklahoma, and then hopefully to NYU to finish her bachelors was a lot as it was. She'd barely begun adjusting to living with her cousins, and now she had to leave again. Putting down roots just wasn't in the Semple mindset, she supposed.

Ruth's phone buzzed, interrupting her favorite song mid-verse. She frowned, but rose up the windows and swiped a finger across the screen.

"Hey mom," she greeted, hitting the speaker button.

Shantelle Josephine Semple was a force to be reckoned with, and twenty-one years later, Ruth still hadn't learned to heed her wrath. With a temper quicker than lightning, and an evil eye that could sink even the richest man deep in his trillion-dollar grave, Shantelle was a siren. Drawing people in with her white-toothed smile and alluring honey-brown eyes that Ruth, fortunately, inherited. But then as soon as she was done drawing you in, she'd chew you out and suck whatever life she could out of you.

"Didn't I tell you to call me when you got back to your apartment?" Shantelle demanded.

Ruth swallowed hard and ran her fingers through her tousled curls, hating her mother's tone of voice. She heard it in grade school when she struggled to read at a higher grade level than the one she was in. She heard it in high school when she wanted to be a creative writer rather than a doctor at Johns Hopkins, like her mother wanted. And she heard it now as a full-grown adult, living across the country from her, and going for the major Shantelle wanted for her. She was chasing her mother's dream. What more did she want?

"I'm not at the apartment yet," Ruth admitted. "I'm—"

"Ruth!" Koi Semple shouted joyfully on the other end of the line, cutting her off mid-sentence.

A wide smile sprawled across her lips, soothing her racing heart. "Hi dad."

The key to Ruth's heart and her saving grace in times of sorrow—her father. He was there to help her get to the next reading level. He was there for her when she cried about not getting to pursue her creative writing career, and gave her endless journals to write in to keep her hobby up. And, most of all, he was there to help support her financially and emotionally across the states. He even got in contact with their aunts and uncles to be there for Ruth if she had any trouble getting acclimated to the new area and helped get Ruth in touch with their cousins. Despite distancing from his Choctaw family after high school when he met Shantelle, they welcomed Ruth with open arms with no sort of fuss.

"You got back alright, Honey-Bee? Uncle Rickey said he hasn't seen you yet," Koi prompted.

"I haven't been by yet. I'm running to the store to grab a couple things."

"I thought Jana said the apartment was already ready for you?" Shantelle was quick to interrupt.

Ruth bit her tongue at the lie her mother easily caught. Damn it, she should have come up with a better lie than that.

"She did. It's just I—uh, need a few things that she forgot," she fibbed miserably. After another two minutes of uncomfortable silence, the small liquor store in the middle of town finally came into view.

"Hmm," her mother hummed suspiciously.

"Don't worry, mom. I'll call you and dad as soon as I get back home."

Instead of answering her like any sensible mother would, Shantelle hung up the phone. And Ruth, having not paused the music before her mother called, was stuck with the music nearly blasting her eardrums out in front of everyone there. Heat flooded her cheeks and she turned the music off as soon as she could.

Thanks mom.

Ruth swallowed back her embarrassment and grabbed what she needed before climbing out of the car before her mother called back. The shorts painted to her thighs rose with the action as the strap of her tank top flimsily fell off from her shoulders and consciously fixed herself. Being curvier than other women her age, with a full bust and thick thigh that kissed below her rounded bottom, she decided to grab her flannel and tie it around her waist.

Ignoring the blatant stares of unnamed men and tough women, Ruth walked up to the liquor store with quick strides. Her skin prickled from the attention, but she tried to tune them out as she got closer to the people loitering outside the shop. One of the men opened up the door for her once she was close enough and she flashed him a thankful smile.

He nodded and said nothing. His eyes, however, were gentle behind his sunglasses, reminding Ruth of her grandfather and Uncle Rickey; both of whom she absolutely adored. When Ruth first met Uncle Rickey a year ago, he didn't give her time to introduce herself before he engulfed her in the warmest hug in the world. He and her grandfather had given her her native name, Honey-Bee, the night she was born, and it stuck with her ever since.

In her tribe, it was tradition for the male patriarch to have a dream about the baby the night before they were born, and whatever they saw in the dream would be that child's native name. Her cousin Jana was Storm, and her other cousin that she lives with, Terry, was Little Horse. It was a tradition that made Ruth feel a part of the family, even if she was across the country for most of her life.

Speaking of her cousins, that was exactly what brought Ruth to the little shop. So Ruth grabbed a couple beers and the mini bottles of liquor on the shelf for their celebration.

A sharp gasp left her lips as her body slammed into somebody else, loosening the bottle from her grip and shattering across the floor. Whoever she walked into swore loudly, having got a few droplets on his clothes as he took a step back from her to get out of the glass. Ruth's ears wrung, echoing with the sound as she fought to apologize.

"Oh my I—I'm so sorry. I didn't know you were there," Ruth started, her blood pumping in her ears.

"No, it's my fault," the other person huffed in frustration, but she was too busy internally freaking out to look up. "I bumped into you, so I'll pay for it. Just grab a new one."

"That's not really necessary. I can pay for it—"

"Just grab another one."

Though the offer itself was nice, the tone of his voice was too rough and annoyed to be close to anything kind. The gruff stranger turned around and walked away from her before she could look up. Snapping out of it, she grabbed a replacement beer. An irritated employee came around the corner with a mop ready and all she could do was apologize profusely on her way to the front. The man she ran into was nowhere to be seen.

An older woman behind the register waved Ruth closer. "That boy already paid for your beer," she informed her.

Ruth blinked. He really paid for it? "Oh."

They said nothing else to each other for the rest of the transaction. The lady tossed the bottles in a bag, passed Ruth the receipt, and sent her on her way.

Most of the men and women outside moved away from the shop, laughing about things Ruth didn't understand. But there was one man in particular, with a familiar pair of faded black and red Nike's, that caught her eye.

Leaning leisurely against the side of the building with one hand in his jeans and the other holding a wrapped cylinder to his lips, was a boy Ruth hadn't noticed when she first arrived. Though based on the familiarity of the lower half of him, she knew he was the guy who bumped into her.

When the boy finally lifted his head and took notice of Ruth, she nearly dropped the bag of alcohol all over again.

His eyes were thick in a haze, lost in the fog circulating his brown irises and wrapped around his strikingly beautiful face. A perfect pair of crimson lips enclosing around the end of the blunt in his hand almost seemed seductive as he inhaled and exhaled with ease. It was the haunting look coloring his face that had Ruth faltering as she wondered how on earth someone could look so . . . ethereal. So raw and gorgeous that her fingers itched for a pen to write his looks down for future writing inspiration.

"You good?" His rich voice, drenched with liquid gold, curled deep in Ruth's ears like a soothing lullaby. Shit, was she still staring dumbfounded?

"I'm good," she stuttered, her words slurring just a little to hide her embarrassment. The inside of her cheek became rabbit food as she gnawed nervously at the flesh. "I-I just wanted to thank you for paying for my drink."

The boy quirked up a thick, dark brow. He moved the blunt away from his mouth and lifted his shoulders in a lazy shrug. "Don't mention it."

"I—right," she shook her head. She turned around, ready to head back to her car, when the boy called back out to her. "Yeah?"

"Aren't from around here are you?" he repeated casually.

Ruth stopped in her tracks at his question. Turning partly back, she eyed the curious way he watched her, confused. "How do you know that?"

Another shrug. "Just haven't seen you here before."

"Oh . . . I didn't grow up here, but I was born in town. I've been back for a year now, though," Ruth rambled.

The ghost of an amused smile played at the corners of his lips. A part of her soul softened at the beautiful sight. He pushed himself away from the wall and she noted how tall he really was. With broad shoulders filling out a white t-shirt, legs long, he could have easily been an athlete. Even his long hair, cascading down his back in ripples, was perfect and well taken care of; none of that 3-in-1 shit men use. A hand beaded medallion made with the signature medicine wheel colors—black, white, yellow, and red—sat square between his pecks.

"See you around," he finally drawled, leading himself away from Ruth.

Ruth watched him walk away with speechless curiosity. He walked straight on down the dirt road with the blinding sunlight swallowing his form in a bright embrace. She replayed his last three words for no reason and stood there in awe for an extra few minutes.

See you around.

*****

notes: translation (from choctaw to english)

♡ redbone - greatest native american band ever. go watch one of their live concerts

♡ oklahoma - red people