Moving from the bustling streets of New York to a small rural town in butt fuck nowhere Texas at the mere age of 9 was a hard pill for you to swallow. You were used to the constant sound of cars honking, your driver taking you wherever your heart desired, and having a doorman greet you every time you came home. You weren’t used to open land, hot suns, and people riding horses around. Your parents were hardly ever around because of work (though this hardly changed after the move). The move to Texas had been random. Your parents had decided they had enough of the city life and wanted to move somewhere new. Growing up your father always had a deep admiration for Westerns and at the ripe age of 36 he wanted to finally live out his wild cowboy dreams.

Starting school in such a new place was hard for you. You couldn't help but feel isolated because everyone around you had their southern accents while you sounded like a snob. Their words, not yours. Kids weren't the kindest to you because you came from the city but there was one boy who was always sweet on you. And that boy was Art Donaldson. He stuck up for you whenever kids were teasing about your accent and even got into a few fights in your honor. From then on the two of you became best friends. He helped you adapt to life out in the Midwest and you told him all about what the city was like.

As you got older, your friendship turned into something more. Lingering touches and glances across the room but neither of you bothered to talk about it. One thing led to another and most days were spent tangled up in the backseat of your car. This had gone on for a few months until Art finally had the courage to ask you out on a date. He took you to the local diner where you two shared a milkshake and have been doing so every Friday since then.

"Do you ever think about going back to the city?" Art asks curiously, his bright blue eyes staring at you in a way that never failed to make your cheeks turn his favorite shade of pink (though he'd never tell you).