Honka Honka (Honk Series Book 1)

by Krissy Reynolds

  But then he reached his arm out and unlocked the door, pushing it open. Alison gave him a grateful smile as he stepped aside so she could enter the small, warm trailer and he locked and closed both doors again behind her.

  The clouds above seemed to open and within seconds, rain pounded on the trailer roof loudly. She couldn't help but look around – the worn yet comfortable-looking brown couch and brown recliner. The old television on a simple small table. The simple blue rug beneath her feet. Everything was in shades of browns and greens and blues and being in his house was like being out in the woods. It was all so clean and tidy and that didn't surprise her considering she watched him every day at the garage cleaning up his station long after all of the other guys had left.

  "Thank you," she said, giving him a small smile, tightening the sweater around her.

  "Cold?" He asked.

  "I'm always cold," she smiled a little easier now.

  "Noticed that," he nodded.

  He moved past her and she watched as he went to the couch where he had a green knit blanket folded over the back of it. Without a word, he shook it out and then handed it to her.

  She was surprised for a moment and she knew that he probably saw that but he didn't say anything about it. "Thank you," she said again and taking the blanket, she wrapped it around herself. "It's so warm."

  "My friend, Mary Jane, made it for me. I'll let her know you said that," Yuriel said and then moved past her, stepping to the stove.

  Friend Mary Jane. Alison was not going to jump to conclusions even as she felt her stomach plummet to her feet. Friend. Maybe she really was just a friend. And if she wasn't, if she was something more, it didn't really matter because Yuriel didn't even like her, Alison had to remind herself. She was just the girl who worked at the garage and who somehow annoyed him even though she could never think of anything she had ever actually done to him that would make him dislike her so much.

  She couldn't quite believe that he had let her into his home and she was now standing here with one of his blankets wrapped around her shoulders. Everything smelled like him. Like leather and soap and the earth. She stood there and kept waiting for herself to wake up. Maybe she had tripped out there somewhere in the woods and was lying unconscious.

  "Do you have a phone?" She asked him suddenly. "I want to let my daddy know that I'm somewhere safe and that I'm alright."

  Yuriel didn't say anything. He turned and went into what she assumed was the bedroom in the back and then came back with a scratched and beaten looking flip phone. He handed it to her without a word and then went back to the stove, where he was stirring something in a pot.

  "Thank you," she said softly once more before dialing home.

  "Alison?" Shawn answered after the first ring. "Where are you? Are you okay?"

  "I'm fine. I walked to a friend's house. I'm going to stay here until the storm passes," Alison replied back. "Don't worry."

  "I'm sorry about earlier," Shawn said. "Vicky's sorry, too."

  "It's not your fault, Shawn, and I actually doubt that Vicky's sorry. I'll go back home and the two of us will pretend that nothing ever happened and that's how it always is with her. She'll be yelling at me about food again tomorrow and we all know it."

  Shawn sighed but didn't say anything. "You swear you're fine?"

  "I'm fine. I'll be home soon," she said and with that, she slapped the phone shut, ending the call. She wasn't angry at Shawn but she didn't want to talk to her brother either, right now. She didn't want to talk to any member of her family right now.

  She slid the phone onto the small eating table and tightened the blanket around her. The wind was howling against the sides of the trailer and the rain was falling harder. She looked to Yuriel, knowing he had obviously heard every word she said, but he was still stirring and he was acting as if she wasn't even there. She had no idea what to do with herself.

  Something caught her eye on the end table beside the couch and she looked at him before curiosity overtook her and she went to the books he had stacked there. She didn't mean to snoop but they were out in the open and he could clearly see what she was doing. If he didn't want her to look, he would have told her so already.

  They were all hardback books with the cover art looking like they all were editions printed in the sixties and seventies. Frankenstein, To Kill a Mockingbird, The Red Badge of Courage and The Crucible. She had read all of these in high school but she didn't say that and she didn't ask why he was reading these. She put the books down and slowly turned back towards him.

  "You hungry?" He asked, breaking the silence in a lull between thunder bursts. "It's nothin' special. Just some rabbit stew," he said.

  "Is that the rabbit you got when I was with you?" She asked, taking a step forward.

  He nodded and reached up into a cabinet, taking down two plastic bowls even though she didn't say she would have any.

  "Thank you but I'm alright. I had lunch a little while ago and I'm still full," she said.

  That made him look at her and after a minute, he snorted and shook his head, turning back towards the stove. Alison felt a familiar bristle on the back of her neck.

  "What?" She dared to ask.

  Yuriel just shook his head and took one of the bowls, ladling a large helping of the stew from the pot. He then grabbed a spoon and sat down at the table, all without saying anything. He glanced at her for a moment before smirking and shaking his head again, looking down to the stew as he began to eat.

  "What?" She asked again, almost demanding it now, feeling herself getting angry.

  She had just gotten this from Vicky. She didn't need this from him, too.

  He shrugged, looking at her again. "Nothin'," he said though it was clearly something and she stood there, her jaw set and her eyes glaring at him. "If you wanna starve yourself, that's your business."

  "I'm not starving myself!" She snapped at him.

  "Not now or not anymore?" He was smirking again and she was becoming so infuriated by everything. That smirk and that look on his face like he knew exactly what he was talking about and he seemed to enjoy getting under her skin right now.

  "You don't know what you're talking about, Yuriel Salas," she vocalized and her fingers tightened into the blanket so tightly, she felt her knuckles strain at the force.

  She wished it wasn't pouring out so she could storm right out of his stupid trailer and get away from his stupid smirk.

  Yuriel nodded and ate another spoonful. "You're right. I don't. Ain't blind though."

  And he was quiet after that. She stood there and watched him as he ate and the only sound was the rain pounding the roof over their heads. She still couldn't quite believe that she was in Yuriel's home and now, to add to it, she couldn't believe that he had talked to her and she had talked back to him like she had. He deserved it though because he didn't know what he was talking about. No one knew. It was a small town, yes, and she knew that everyone thought they knew but they didn't. Not really. None of them knew her. Especially Yuriel Salas.

  After another few minutes and she realized he wasn't going to say anything else, she slowly felt the tension in her shoulders start to ebb away. She loosened the death grip she had on the blanket and she felt the pressure ease in her chest as she began to breathe again. Slowly, she moved and eased herself into the bench seat across from him. He took another spoonful of stew into his mouth and then looked at her.

  She looked at him and the thumping of her heart resumed. She was sitting in Yuriel's trailer at his table with him right across from her. She could see the blueness of his eyes and the slight bags beneath his eyes as if he never got enough sleep and that one strand of hair that always seemed to hang in his face. And as she looked at him and her heart thumped, her stomach flipped and she knew she would probably never have this opportunity again. But she couldn't think of anything to say. Not a single thing and she knew Yuriel wasn't going to take the silence and fill it.

  "I was in the hospital for a while and then a
special clinic for… for people like me," she heard herself say and Yuriel slowly lifted his eyes to look at her. She told herself she didn't want to look at him but she couldn't bring herself to look away. She saw no judgment on his face. No pity either. "I'm not cured. I'll…" she swallowed. "I'll never be cured. But I'm better."

  She looked at him and felt herself holding her breath again as she waited for him to say something. She didn't know why she told him that. She never told anyone. All he did was stand up though and she watched as he went to the stove, ladling himself another helping of rabbit stew. She watched as he then picked up the second bowl and ladled a helping into that one and he came back to the table, placing the other bowl in front of her without a word. He sat down and began eating again and Alison stared down at the steaming stew now sitting in front of her.

  And she had no idea why after a moment, she picked up the spoon beside the bowl and she dunked it into the stew. She blew on it before guiding it into her mouth. She let the taste settle over her tongue – meat and vegetables – and she lifted her eyes. He wasn't looking at her but he must have felt her eyes on him because he lifted his own then and they looked at one another.

  She gave a small smile. "It's really good."

  Yuriel nodded and gave a shrug. "It's a'right."

  She gave him another small smile as she took another spoonful.

  Chapter Six.

  Alison Silver was asleep. On his couch in his trailer as if she belonged there. She had only been there for a couple of hours but already, he could smell her everywhere.

  After she had eaten a bowl of the stew and had complimented him yet again on how delicious it was, she offered to help him clean up but he just shook his head, telling her he'd take care of it. The rain continued outside, thunder rumbling and now crashes of lightning and every time it did, Alison jumped slightly.

  "You scared of storms?" He asked.

  She shook her head. "No. It's just in here, it sounds like it's right on top of us," she said, looking up to the ceiling as she spoke. "I like it in here," she then said and Yuriel couldn't help but frown a little at that.

  "Why?" He asked.

  She shrugged and looked at him with a small smile, her cheeks tinted pink as if she was embarrassed. "It's cozy. I've never had my own space like this before. You're lucky. Your very own place that's just yours."

  Yuriel shrugged, too, silently agreeing with her. It was nice. He liked coming here after work and being home. Just him and his stuff with no one yelling or breaking something or making him uncomfortable just by being in their presence. It may have been a trailer but it was his trailer and it was nice and dry and clean. It was perfect.

  "Your house is big," he felt the need to point out to her. "Can't find space in there for yourself?" He took the bowls and spoons to the sink and turned on the water to hot.

  Alison shook her head, slowly lowering herself down onto the couch as if unsure whether or not she could do that. "I lived in Atlanta for a little bit but I had a couple of roommates. And then, coming home… my sister thinks she needs to babysit me."

  Yuriel wasn't sure what to say to that so he didn't say anything. He grabbed the dish liquid soap and squirted a drop into the sink so he could soak and wash the dishes. He turned back to the stove and grabbed a plastic container from the cabinet overhead, beginning to scoop out the rest of the stew and save it for leftovers. He'd probably take it to the garage tomorrow for lunch.

  He had the fleeting image of Alison being there with him and as soon as it entered his head, he shook it out again because it was completely asinine. Alison Silver living in a trailer? Alison Silver living in a trailer with him? He almost snorted. Everyone knew her old man – Lawrence Silver – a successful vet who owned a successful farm. Alison had been born into a good family and had a good life. A girl like Alison didn't take the steps down to live in a trailer with some redneck like him.

  And it wasn't as if he wanted her to live in this trailer with him. Why the hell would he want that? There was only one bedroom; a bathroom nothing more than the size of a closet. They would be living right on top of each other and it wasn't as if they were together. Far from it. He knew he had something of a crush on her but he was probably going to always keep that to himself because he didn't have the right to have anything towards her. Not a girl like her. He was some dirty high-school dropout mechanic who lived in a trailer and she obviously had her own problems but she was still too good for a guy like him.

  He turned back to the sink and began washing the dishes and when he was done, he looked over to see her still on the couch. But instead of sitting, she was now laying down. He turned off the water, put the bowls in the drying rack beside the sink and dried off his hands before going to the couch.

  He stood there for a moment as if he didn't really understand what he was looking at but Alison Silver was lying on his couch and she was asleep. He frowned but he didn't wake her. There was no reason to. The storm was still raging and if he did wake her up, what would they do? Talk? He made sure the blanket was covering her because the trailer was feeling a little chilly to him and he didn't want her to be cold. He then took the book at the top of the stack from the table beside the couch before slowly sitting down in the recliner chair, moving as if he didn't want to make too much noise that might disturb her.

  He leaned back and turned on the lamp beside the chair, creating a soft glow in the small space and it cast upon Alison's peaceful sleeping face. He found himself watching her for a minute before he forced his eyes away and he opened the book. He wasn't even halfway through Frankenstein yet and he wanted to make a dent in it that afternoon. He had seen her looking at the books earlier but she hadn't asked about it and he definitely wasn't going to explain why he was reading them.

  She didn't need to know that Mary Jane – who worked at the library – had seen these books in the library's book sale room and gotten them for him because they were required reading for high school students and Yuriel had never read them himself the sporadic times he had attended class. He wasn't entirely sure why he wanted to read them now. Mary Jane had smiled and mentioned bettering himself but that had just made him scowl before muttering a thanks for the books and taking them home.

  He tried to concentrate on the words in front of him but he kept looking over to Alison, sleeping on his couch as if she took naps there all of the time. He didn't want to think about how natural or comfortable she looked. Or how pretty. It blew his mind how pretty Alison Silver was. Sometimes, in the garage, his eyes would trail towards the office and he would look at her through the window as she sat at her desk and he felt like he was doing something wrong; that someone was going to call him out on it because he had absolutely no business looking at Alison.

  He had heard things about her. It was a small Southern town and there seemed to be rumors about everyone. That was why he hadn't ever really listened to anything. But hearing her on the phone with her brother, and hearing what she had said, he had figured it out pretty fast. Those weren't just rumors.

  He personally couldn't understand it. Why someone would willingly starve themselves was beyond him. When he was a kid, he remembered the only meal he sometimes got was from the free lunch he would get at school. He knew what it was like going to sleep with nothing in his stomach and he couldn't believe anyone would want to actually feel like that when they had food right at their fingertips.

  He tried to focus on the book again though he realized he had been on the same page for quite some time and none of the words were settling in his mind. When he looked at her again, her eyes were open and she was looking at him.

  "I fell asleep," she said in a soft voice.

  "Yeah," he said because he didn't know what else to say.

  "I'm sorry about that," she said and sat up, smothering a yawn behind her hand. "It's lessened a little bit," she said, turning and looking out the window behind the couch, seeing the rain had gone down to just a gentle fall.

  Yuriel nodded and he igno
red the disappointment bubbling in his stomach. "You wan' me to take you home now?" He asked.

  "Not really, if I can be honest." She looked back to him. "But I know you want your home back."

  He shrugged. "Don't really matter to me," he said truthfully and he wondered why it didn't matter because he had been trying so hard for the past three months to always keep distance between himself and this girl and now, he actually didn't care that she was in his home, making the air smell like her?

  She looked at him as if she was surprised and confused as well but then she gave a small smile, her eyes lowering down to her hands in her lap and he noticed the faint pink on her cheeks. He exhaled a breath. Damn this girl. It would all be so much easier to avoid her if she wasn't so pretty or so genuinely nice and reminded him of something sweet.

  "Are you liking it?" She asked him and for a second, he had no idea what she was talking about. But then he saw her eyes glance down to the book in his hands before back to his face.

  "Oh," he said and then after a moment, he shook his head. "Not really," he answered truthfully and watched as a shy smile bloomed across her face.

  "I liked it but I didn't love it," she said. "I think you would really like Jack London."

  Yuriel didn't want to admit to her that he didn't know who that was but it seemed like she had already suspected that. Her smile wasn't cruel or judgmental.

  "He wrote The Call of the Wild and White Fang," she said. "A real outdoorsman."

  Yuriel grunted something but didn't say anything and she didn't anything else either. He closed the book and tossed it onto the couch cushion beside her before standing up, his knees cracking.

  "Want somethin' to drink?" He asked, already heading towards the refrigerator.

  "Yes, please," she said. She stood up and he watched as she folded the blanket carefully, draping it over the back of the couch where he had first gotten it.