Why hello my beautiful friends.

Thank you so much for getting here, making it this far, you the real MVP.

I would like to first apologize for posting so rarely. I've lost a lot of motivation and a lot of free time lately and I would like to offer my sincerest apologies, and a gracious thank you for returning.

Additionally, I hope to be posting more with our Yankee/Red neck duo in the next few weeks. So stay tuned.

I would also like to give a HUGE thank you to for their amazing support an love for my writing, you keep me going and I am forever grateful for simply reading, and even more so for reviewing.

Previously on Yankee: Memphis and Nikki have been taking a tour around town, when a storm hits, leading them to a local to-go place and back home to help move in some boxes dropped off by Nikki's moving guys on her last day before starting at the new school.

Without further ado, I present, Yankee: Chapter 5

As it turns out, the "short cut" Memphis took was actually the long way, but it was so fun. The air conditioning stung my skin in the best way as I grabbed his muscled arm for support. Bouncing off of the seat we were both laughing hard, we didn't even hear the thunder outside of the truck.

We slid a couple times in the mud, which constituted a whooping "yeehaw" from Memphis, which I found historically stereotypical.

Too soon we rounded a bend and the familiar gravel road that lead to both of our houses appeared. I was already gathering up the food so I could make a mad dash into my house, when Memphis drove by.

"Memphis," I turn down the radio, "I thought we were eating at my place."

"No, there is one other stop on this tour that you just can't miss."

"Well, I guess I'm not allowed to say no."

"You catch on so quick, New York. Now here, take off that stupid hat," he hands me the panther's hat from the convince store, and flashes a wink.

"Fine." I take off my hat, surveying my braids in the mirror. I study the panther's hat again, before I quickly pulled Memphis' dirty red hat off his head. I then studied this one. Its bill was ripped and dirty with a fishing hook clipped on. The whole thing was stained with oil, dirt, sweat stains and had "Ricky's Garage: fixin' the rickiest and the rattiest" embroidered on the front. "Is this fishing hook, for, like, a fishing emergency?" I ask through giggles.

"You could say that, now give it back. Don't make me pull this truck over," He said with a smile.

"Well here, since you like this one so much." I put the panther's hat on his head, backwards, and put on his old hat backwards.

The bright white of the hat just doesn't fit in with Memphis. He is the color of gold, sandy hair, and tanned skin, freckles on his face and arms. The bright white is like a single drop of bleach on your favorite shirt. It just stands out, making the whole shirt look wrong. I was laughing at how "golf" he looked when the truck stopped on the side of the road, our houses small behind us.

"Memphis, this just a field, what's so special about it?"

Memphis put the truck in park and turned to me. "Do you think this shit is funny, Nicole? You put this hat on my head. I look like an idiot. What the hell?"

I just stared at him, truly shocked and afraid by this sudden outburst. I saw the color of his eyes change again, rolling like molten lava the color of wet grass. My mouth was open and I didn't know what to say. He reached out for me, and I flinched, my instincts awaiting the slap. When I felt a tug on one of my braids again.

"I look like an idiot. But you look adorable," I opened my eyes and looked at him, seeing his smile, "you can pull of a dirty old hat better than I could ever pull off a brand new one.

"What is your problem?"

"What's wrong, New York?"

"You, you stupid jerk," I hit him gently on the arm, but I'm bubbling over with anger, and I'm not joking, I hit him again, but then, I feel bad, so I scoot away and sit against the door.

"What?"

"You made me think you were pissed off, did you think that was funny? Because it wasn't, you're an asshole."

"I'm sorry, Nikki, really," he chuckles.

"Yeah, really? You think it's funny. It's not funny, James!" I could feel tears welling up in my eyes, "I thought you were going to hit me," I pull my legs up to my chest and hug them, willing myself not to cry.

Within seconds Memphis was right next to me, he had an arm around me, "Nicole, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you that badly, I was just kidding, and I only laughed because you're so damn cute when you're angry."

He hugged me closer and suddenly I couldn't hold back the tears. My will melted as my body melted against his. With both arms he pulled me into his lap and I rolled into a ball. Rain was running down the windshield and tears were running down my face.

I felt Memphis' face right next to mine, he whispered right in my ear "I will never, ever, ever hurt you, Nicole. And I mean it."

My eyes meet his, as the last tear rolls down my face, "I believe you, thank you, James."

Memphis brings one large finger, gently, carefully wiping the tear off of my cheek.

"I'm sorry, Memphis. It's just, I've been through some pretty shitty relationships, and I don't need that again."

"I completely understand, Nikki, I'm sorry that has happened to you, and I can't believe someone could do that to you. Well, if you still want to go, we're almost there."

"I want to go, for sure," I stare at his lips for just a second too long, they are the most perfect shade of pink, and they are full without being too big. Then he bites his lip, oh my goddd. I climb out of his lap with a smile before I do something I might regret. "yeah, um, uh, lets, um, go to the place." I check my makeup in the mirror, mascara is running down my face. "Great."

Memphis chuckles, I flash him a look, and his face drops, but when I look away, I see his smile resurfaces.

I clean off as much of my makeup as I can as the truck pulls into a little gravel patch near a stream. The rain is still falling hard but the thunder and lightning has drawn to a stop.

"What is this?" A smile crosses my face as I see Memphis adjusting the white hat.

"It's only the single greatest tourist attraction this town has to offer, yet very few know about it." Suddenly lightning flashes and thunder threatens to shatter the windows. "on second thought," Memphis pauses, "maybe we should take a raincheck."

A smile breaks, "okay, keep me in suspense. Now let's go back and eat before the food gets cold."

"Oh yeah, that meat sure smells good. Mmhhmmhhh good."

I just roll my eyes and turn up the radio.

We are in my driveway in no time. Memphis parks next to the large pile of our boxes, which were finally dropped off by the moving van.

Me with the bag of food and my keys at the ready, Memphis with a pizza box and the bag from the convince store.

"On the count of three," I move my hand to door handle ready to jump out.

We count together, "one…. Two… three," I take a deep breath, Memphis is already out the door, even with the bulky box. I open the door, but it's stuck, the handle isn't doing anything and the driver door is already shut. Memphis turns around, and I see his eyes flash again, his shirt is already changing colors to a darker shade, as he runs around the truck, giving one hard yank on the outside handle and the door whips open in the rain. The wind is blowing and the rain is warm, and stings, whirling in the strong gusts of air. More thunder cracks as lightening pierces the clouds. I hop out of the truck. My Converse landing in a mud puddle. The asphalt guys are supposed to come next week to lay the driveway, so it's currently just a lot of mud and rocks. We are both running full speed to the patio, when my ankle catches a divot in the driveway. My ankle rolls under me and I fall, my hands landing in mix of mud and sharp rocks. A strong hand pulls me up off the ground, and half drags my limping body to the patio. I find the key, the gold one with "LockPro" written in engraved letters, matching the lock on the door. I fiddle with the unfamiliar door, lock, key combo. When finally hear the click, the door opens and frigid air conditioning greats us.

I take a deep breath and flash Memphis a smile, which is happily returned.

I kick off my soaked and muddy shoes. The mud covers my legs, sides, stomach and arms. Plus my ankle is throbbing. I whimper slightly as I walk, trying to act carefree, "so, the kitchen is right through here, I think."

I brace myself on the wall as Memphis scoops me up. I'm not sure how he was able to carry me when he already had his pizza and the bags.

"Memphis, what the hell are you doing. Put me down."

"No, clearly you hurt yourself, and if I've learned one thing from all my years of football, acting tough only makes things worse. Now calm down, the kitchen is this way, right?"

"Yeah, right through there."

Memphis set me down on the kitchen counter. He removed my sock and carefully observed it, he supported my foot with just one hand, as his fingers traced over my ankle and foot. "Yeah, you twisted it real good. But that's all you did, where is your bathroom?"

"Um," he stood up, his eyes meeting mine, with a concerned look on his face, "oh, it's right around the corner." I pointed, when he noticed the cuts on my hands from the contact with the rocks. He looked carefully, and gently at both hands, then disappeared around the corner.

He comes back with my mother's first aid kit which is "only practical," fine, I guess she was right this time. "Memphis, I'm fine I'll just walk it off," I hop off the counter, but hands meet my hips before my feet meet the ground.

"No. RICE."

"Rice? What are you talking about?" I ask as I am placed back on the counter.

"Rest. Ice. Compress. Elevate. It's what you do after an injury, you never learned that, up there in great ole New York?"

"No."

"This is step 1, rest. Don't walk for at least an hour or so."

"Fine."

"Step 2, ice." He gently lays my ankle on the counter, goes to the freezer, "why o you have nothing in your house?" Memphis asks to an empty freezer.

"I just moved in yesterday, and the first few boxes arrived today, for your information. And the ice maker works, if that what you're looking for."

"It is, thanks." He looks lost, begins opening empty drawers and staring into barren cabinets.

"What do you need now?"

"Something to put the ice in, like a towel or a bag."

"There are some Ziploc baggies in that last drawer over there."

Soon Memphis has the bag full and resting on my ankle. He then turns his attention back to my hands. He finds the only dish towel in the house, and wets it. He carefully washes off the palms off my hand, very delicately as though I might shatter. "This might sting a little, New York. But your tough, so I'm not worried," he smiled, sifting through the first aid kit. I see something in his eyes though, which show his real feelings. They looked sad, the eyes of an owner, watching as their pet gets a shot, surgery, or even a thermometer in the butt. The look of not wanting to do something that must be done. "Here it is," his soft smile still shining through.

He opens the bottle, and coats my now, dirt free hands.

At first it was just cold, and I wondered if Memphis grabbed the right bottle, then it started stinging. Almost as though it was bubbling up in the numerous cuts. He poured some in the other hand, cold, and then pain. I whimpered quietly. I see a flash of Memphis, he has a sad puppy dog look on his face, as though he just delivered horrible news, and he is monitoring me, gaging the reaction. I try to keep it as mild as I can, and soon enough the pain is gone. He wipes my palms again and says I'm all set. I flash him a smile and his eyes light up again.

"This is one practical kit, look at all the stuff it has. I could remove a bullet if I had to."

"If you even meet my mother, tell her how practical it is and she will love you forever," I say laughing.

"I might just do that. I would like great momma York to love me. But I'm a bit more concerned about Papa York."

"Oh, pshh, he's sweet, it's mom you should be worried about."

We lock eyes for what felt like a lifetime, I watched his eyes churn, he pulls on a braid, racing a finger over my cheek bone, down my chin. I lay a hand on his chest, even with me on the counter he has a foot on me. He steps closer, he smells like trees and heaven. He is standing between my leg dangling and the one resting on the counter. I see his eyes drift to my lips, I lick one slightly, biting the bottom one. I feel my heartbeat racing, his touch gives me chills, it doesn't help that I'm drenched in rain and it's freezing in the house, because I haven't figured out where the thermostat is. I swear he can hear my heart beating out of my chest, or feel my pulse, his hand is resting right on my chin. Memphis' beautiful golden face, his perfect pink lips are getting closer, he is leaning in, the space between us shrinking. Lightning lights up the window and the thunder gives out a boom that rattles your bones.

We both jump. Memphis takes two steps back, red fills his cheeks, and I can feel mine doing the same.

"Anyway, I ah, um, I think that might be enough of step 2. S-step 3, step 3, step 3 is ah. Um. Step 3 is compression."

He gently removes the ice and grasps my ankle, and with only impressive steadiness presses my foot against his toned chest, he selects a wrap out of the kit, gently wrapping it around, pulling it tight enough to provide support without hurting.

"Okay, so step 4 then. Elevation." He scoops me up again, grabbing the pizza box, and Chinese food as well. "Point me to the couch!"

"There is none."

"What?" he spins around, spinning me more than necessary. "You have no couch? How dare you call this a home? A house with no cough. I don't believe it!"

"It's not here yet, you crazy, the only furniture is my mattress and what came with the house," I say laughing as he is still spinning.

"To your room it is! Which way?" he spins once more for good measure.

I guide him and offer to climb up the stairs, but he just shakes his head, and bounds up.

Memphis lays me down gently on my bed. I suddenly realize my room is a mess. There is a mattress on the ground, a pile of pillows, a picture frame of Nessa and I, my laptop and other wires, and an over-spilling suitcase in the corner.

"Sorry for the mess. I jus-"

Memphis just laughs that amazing caramel southern laugh he does so well. "Nikki, you didn't even see my room, hun, this is nothing. It smells so good in here. Good job, Memphis, way to be weird."

I giggle, "Well thanks, I pride myself on the smell of my room."

Memphis flops down on my bed next to me, opening his pizza box and going to town, scarfing down sausage and pepperoni, like it's a minute-to-win-it challenge.

I prop myself up on a pillow, and carefully remove the pair of chopsticks. I snap them and carefully pinch the food. I'm surprised, it's better than you would expect from a half pizza half Chinese restaurant in the middle of nowhere.

"How is your pizza?"

Memphis takes a breath, just long enough to respond, "Good," before going back to piece number three at the same speed as the first two.

"Great," I say, happily turning back to my food.

Memphis stops, he sets down his slice, staring at me.

"What?"

"That's it? No remark about how I'm eating cooked flesh? Devouring animals that were inhumanely murdered? Fueling the horrendous actions of big meat companies in this country?"

"Nope." I resume eating.

"Why?" He asks, genuinely concerned and curious.

"Because I hate when people say things and make comments about the lack of meat. I'm not going to condemn others the same way for their choices, simply because I don't agree with them."

"Hm. Remember how I said this might be a deal breaker?"

"Yeah, I remember."

"I was wrong. It's a pro. You are jus- the way yo- you're amazing."

"Well thanks, Memphis, you're pretty cool yourself."

He smiled and picked the slice back up.

Soon, we had both eaten enough, Memphis only leaving two pieces. He takes a few pillows off the pile and explains step four, elevation and the importance of blood flow and things. He set my wrapped foot on top of the little pillow tower. But it wasn't to his liking, so he added another one. When he was happy, he took the rest of my food and the pizza box back downstairs and was back in a flash.

"God news, you now officially have food in your fridge. So, what now?" He asks, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Hmm," I look around the room.

"Wait who is this, with you in this picture?"

"Oh that's Nessa, Vanessa McCormick. She is my best friend and has been for a long time, but she is in Manhattan. And I'm here. So I have that picture, plus we text nonstop and facetime every night."

"She looks like a good friend."

"She is for sure."

"I have a couple close friends, but no one in a picture frame in my room."

"Yeah but they also don't live several hours away, so I think you're good." I look around my near empty room again, trying to find something to do. "How about some Netflix, the one thing we actually have is Wi-Fi."

"Sounds good."

We prop ourselves up on pillows. I turn on my computer, immediately I get a warning, "battery critically low. Plug in now." Memphis grabs the charger from a pile, as soon as it begins charging the wind whips against the house simultaneously to thunder. The lights flash, and the room falls into darkness. I wait for them to flick back on.

"Uh oh."

Just then I hear a Bing: "battery critically low. Plug in now."

Within a minute or so the screen goes black and the room is completely dark.

I'm suddenly very aware of the handsome, teenage boy I am lying next to, in bed, in the dark.

I feel like an injured gazelle, the leopard, somewhere in the darkness, closer than I realize. But I don't mind

Woah, things are getting serious.

Oh my.

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Ya'll are the best

Love and best wishes,

Forvernever33