Chasing Sin

35

"What is this junk?"

"This is good music, okay? Don't you dare hate on Queen Bey," I warn him as I take a bite of my chocolate bar. "Just because it's pop music doesn't mean it's not good, you snob!"

"The stuff you played like three hours ago was good," he admits. "But it has gone downhill since then. I'm about to take my aux cord back!"

"I still can't believe you have an aux cord," I tell him, shaking my head as I line up another three Beyonce songs in my Spotify queue, then start adding some Taylor Swift to really bug him. "Bluetooth is so much better."

"Sorry," he says, his tone completely insincere. "You weren't around when I got my car, so I didn't have your list of demands. So Bluetooth, a personalized bike helmet, anything else?"

"I'll let you know as they arise. And isn't your life so much better now with me around?" I ask, not waiting for an answer. "Oh! If you have an issue with pop music, how about we change it?"

He eyes me carefully, not trusting me.

I switch the song to an iconic country choice—Honky Tonk Badonkadonk by Trace Atkins.

He laughs loudly, filling the car with my favorite sound, and I sing along to the song in my thickest southern accent, swaying along to the music.

"Lord, have mercy, how she even get them bridges on?" I close my eyes, belting the words out at this point as Sin laughs. "With that honky tonk badonkadonk!"

"You've really been holding out on me, Miss North Carolina," Sin says when I turn the music down a little. "You're secretly a total redneck, aren't you?"

"Oh, it's no secret," I agree. "Through and through country bumpkin right here, Black. You know, my dad taught me how to shoot when I was twelve."

"Oh my god," he says, slightly horrified. "Why the hell would he give a twelve year old a gun?"

I shrug, realizing now, in hindsight, that that might be weird to some people.

"It was hunting season, and Ethan had homework," I reply. "Besides, I only lasted one season before I decided I didn't like it. Since then, he's tried everything else. He taught me archery, took me mudding, and even bought me a horse for my fourteenth birthday. None of them stuck, even the horse, because he actually died a few months later."

"What is mudding?" Sin asks, totally taken aback by my country roots.

"Mud bogging. You know, like driving trucks and four-wheelers around in a mud pit," I explain. "I guess I never realized how weird that sounds until now. It's really common in North Carolina."

"I guess Haven Walker is a bit more rough around the edges than she lets on," Sin says with an amused smile. "The closest I've come to any of that is going to the rodeo when I was ten."

"Oh my god, I used to love the rodeo," I say with a swoon. "My friends and I would go just to stare at the bull riders every year. That's why I loved The Longest Ride so much."

"You know, my mom was from New Orleans," Sin tells me. I look over at him in surprise.

"Really? Like, she grew up there?" I ask.

I know that Sin doesn't talk about his mom much, so it always makes me feel so much closer to him when he does, like he really trusts me. I almost feel like I don't deserve to know so much about him, but the fact that he keeps so much to himself must be draining. I love knowing that I get to be the one he talks to about all of this.

"Well, she was born in Florida. She moved there when she was like nine or ten," Sin explains. "Then when she graduated high school, she went to LA to be a photographer. She met my dad a couple years later, who made her move here."