Bare Feet & Cowboy Boots

Rude Cowboys & Bad Beginnings

Settling on the dirt beneath her, she looked up to see that they weren't at a mansion like she had seen in past seasons. It was someone's actual home - a farm from what she could tell. There were four buildings on the property - two houses and two barns - spread out by a few acres or so. Grass of varying heights grew between the buildings, a few flowers poked out under the sea of green, and made way to small patches closer to her. In the studio lighting placed on the property, she was able to make out a small corral in the distance and more pasture, but nothing else. Dusk had already fallen and there was no moon present to illuminate the world around her.

Her gaze scoured the rest of the landscape before green eyes landed on the bachelor standing in front of her. He was a handsome young man in his boots, tight jeans, plaid shirt, and cowboy hat that hid his hair from view. He was the epitome of the classic western movies her grandpa used to watch before his passing. The only off putting thing about him were his crossed arms and grim face; he looked like someone had pissed in his soup. To be honest, the style wasn't really her type. He was cute, but she usually went for clean-cut boys who aspired to be lawyers or doctors.

Not cowboys.

Carefully, she made her way over to him, a mantra of left, right, left, right playing in her head as she walked in heels. The gravel beneath her crunched with each wobbly step she took. From either corner, she saw two men holding a camera each. One was trained on her while the other was on the bachelor. Behind them stood two other people each holding a microphone so that they could catch every sound she and the bachelor made. Maka tried to keep her cool as she was reminded that all of America - maybe the world - would see her make a fool of herself.

"Hi," she smiled while sticking her hand out to him. "I'm Maka Albarn."

He stared at her for a few seconds, one white brow cocked up in confusion, before he finally slid a warm and calloused hand in hers. "Soul Evans. Nice to meet you."

"You too."

She dropped her hand from his and they stood there staring at each other. He folded his arms in front his chest again and scowled.

A few of the lights were trained on him, but the brim of his hat shadowed his facial features. Even when she came up to his shoulder, she was only able to make out that his eyes were a dark color like brown - almost black. A very intriguing shade that she hadn't seen before.

"No interesting story?" he said, breaking their silence. "Or weird talent?"

"No," she said a little confused. "Was I supposed to have one?"

Soul shrugged. "Figured it was custom with this kinda thing."

"I can roll my tongue, if that counts as a weird talent."

He snorted. "That's not weird. Not compared to what I've seen from the others. Just makes you an above average human."

"In that case I'll be proud of my above average-ness," she smiled. Maka grabbed the edges of her skirt and did a mock bow that pulled a closed mouth grin from Soul.

"Cute," he said, placing his hands in his front pockets and leaning back a bit.

Heat prickled along the nape of her neck and along her collarbones before crawling up her throat. The man holding the camera trained on her had stepped back to catch the whole moment between them, and Maka's embarrassment was for whole other reason now. Not only had she done that in front of Soul, but the entire American population as well.

What the hell am I doing bowing like a damn idiot?! You know people are watching you right this minute, Maka! Don't give them something to laugh about!