Derrick drove his Mercedes over the uneven ground of the farmhouse driveway, and Mallory directed him toward the front of the barn. Troy followed close behind in his Bronco, and they both parked on a flat stretch of land about forty feet from the building, the only place free of debris.
Mallory stepped out of the car as a train whistle cried in the distance. She looked to her friends. “So, what do you think?”
“Spectacular,” Elsa replied.
“And then some,” Lisa added. “When did you find this?”
“Yesterday on a run. Come on, I’ll show you around.”
They piled out. The others disembarked from the Bronco.
Derrick unlatched the trunk and got out two flashlights from a roadside emergency kit. Ten feet away, Troy unloaded the beer.
“You know how to pick the spot, babe,” Becky said.
“Hell, yeah,” Derrick agreed. “We can light a fire in the middle of the floor if it’s all dirt in there.”
“Adam and I will get some wood,” Becky said. “Give me one of the lights.”
“Wait a second,” Mallory interjected. “Before we go inside, turn off both the lights and just look up at it.”
They gave her odd glances at first, but then the lights went off and a heavy darkness caved in from all directions.
“Now, don’t say anything,” she whispered. “Just listen.”
The group went along with her request and soon nature’s familiar, yet unintelligible, language filled their ears.
The wind breathed. Trees rustled. Boards creaked. A rusted weathervane squealed. Far away, the heavens rumbled.
Mallory wanted to recreate the adventurous sense of treading on unfamiliar ground she’d felt here the day before, a sensation that would no doubt be intensified by the unlit nighttime hours.
Even in its forlorn condition, the barn appeared formidable and impressive. Gaping holes peppered the building’s outer skin, and the exposed support beams now seemed like aged bones when set against the deeper darkness within. The silo to the right-hand side appeared equally ominous, looking like a danger-filled tower from an older, more superstitious age.
Derrick led the group forward, entering the building without pause. Mallory and the others followed, shinning their flashlights around.
“Smells like raccoon turds,” Troy commented.
Ignoring him, the group went to work at clearing the floor near the entrance. Soon firelight pulsated on the ramshackle crossbeams overhead, and the throbbing shadows it cast made the barn’s upper reaches appear to be inhabited by an amorphous black monster.
They all gathered near the blaze while Adam deposited the last batch of lumber scavenged from around the property. To the side, a radio taken from Troy’s Bronco played background tunes as they relaxed, talked, and cracked open his stolen beer. Derrick passed Mallory a can, insisting that she’d like it, but after one taste she passed it back.
“So, what happened to your friend?” Lisa asked. “That Tim guy, where’d he go?”
Mallory had to pry her gaze away from Derrick’s eyes to answer. “He must have headed home earlier,” she said. “He had a pretty bad headache when we left the fair.”
“He’s one of those quiet types, isn’t he?” Elsa asked.
“Yeah, he is,” Adam agreed between chugs. “Probably psycho. Where’d you meet him, anyway?”
“They went out together yesterday,” Becky answered for her, twitching her eyebrows and grinning.
Everyone gave Mallory the usual hoots and whistles, but she waved them away without comment.
“I could see it,” Lisa agreed. “He’s sort of plain, but he’s cute.”
Another round of whistles arose from the group, this time directed at Lisa.
“I only met him a day ago,” Mallory clarified. “And don’t cut him down so fast. He saved my brother from drowning.”
Lisa gasped. “No way, BJ almost drowned?”
Mallory nodded. “He fell in the pool yesterday, and Tim hauled him out just in time.”
“I look up to him already,” Troy said, crunching his second beer can into a crumpled wad and tossing it over his shoulder.
Through flailing tentacles of the fire, she saw the girls twist their faces in genuine expressions of surprise and fascination, but before she could continue her recounting of Tim’s heroics, Derrick tapped her on the arm. He gestured to a rickety ladder leading to the structure’s second level. “What’s up there?” he asked.
She looked up and shrugged. “Hayloft, I suppose.”
“Want to go check it out?”
Mallory felt the cadence of her heart quicken, and her cheeks begin to warm. In the periphery of her vision, she each of her friends avert their eyes in one way or another, pretending to be enthralled by something else.
“I don’t know,” she said, trying to remain casual. “Do you think it’s safe?”
“I’m sure it’s safe enough,” he answered.
A distant peal of thunder filled the silence when her friends paused their conversation. Standing, she let Derrick take her hand and lead her across the room, catching one last eyebrow-twitching glance from Becky before turning to the ladder.
Mallory climbed the ladder after Derrick, passing through the ceiling portal and into the barn’s loft. They stood side by side, glancing about the shadowy space.
At the front of the building, a gaping rectangular doorway opened onto the night where workers once hauled up hay bales via a rope and pulley. Both doors for the opening had long since dropped off their hinges, leaving an empty frame painted by thick layers of bird droppings.
Slivers of firelight shone through cracks between the floorboards, projecting a tiger-stripe pattern over everything around them. That gentle radiance gave the loft an unanticipated feeling of warmth, reminding Mallory of the cozy glow of Christmas tree lights.
Derrick stepped away from the ladder without the slightest attention to the creaks and groans coming from beneath his feet. He boldly strode across the loft, showing her the boards could hold his weight.
Reluctantly, she followed.
They went over to the far corner, away from their friends below, to where the sloping roof minimized standing room. In that cramped portion of the room, some industrious group of people had managed to arrange a makeshift seating area. The corner boasted two rust-splotched metal folding chairs, a pale-blue ottoman, a worn, gold-colored armchair, one barstool with cracked vinyl upholstery, a ragged old couch capable of holding at least three or four individuals, and a small table made from four chipped cinderblocks and a yard-square section of water-damaged particleboard. To complete the living room setting, all the items had been positioned over a large section of shaggy, age-soiled carpet.
“Hey, all right,” Derrick said, brushing away a few old beer cans from the couch. “Doesn’t look so bad. It’s dry and free of bird poop. Care to have a seat?”
“Um, sure.”
She sat down next to him, finding his already alluring features softened in the shredded yellow light from below. She had daydreamed about this moment for three years, imagining the splendor of it through countless biology and history lessons. But now that the fantasy had come true, she realized she didn’t know how to conduct herself, or even what to say.
“You have the prettiest eyes of anyone I’ve ever met,” he said.
A smile spread across her face, and she needed to look away, afraid her huge grin would ruin the mood.
“I mean it,” he added.
She bit her lower lip to repress her smile. “Thanks.”
“So, there’s something I’ve wanted to ask you,” he whispered. “But I couldn’t do it in front of the others. You know how friends can be.”
When she raised her eyes to meet his gaze, she found it had remained constant.
“I know we just met tonight, but I really feel a connection between us.”
Mallory felt that same stupid grin creeping into her cheeks again, accompanied by a hot rush that swelled through her whole body.
Beneath them, the bonfire’s crackle carried up to the loft with the sound of small forest animals bounding through an autumn field carpeted by dry leaves. The others had resumed their conversations, eliciting bursts of laughter from time to time, but the sounds floated on the edge of Mallory’s awareness.
Derrick leaned forward and kissed her.
Her heart skipped, and a shiver coursed along her arms and legs.
After several uncountable seconds, he drew his lips away, only a few fractions of an inch, pausing just long enough to acknowledge that she hadn’t objected to his forwardness. Then, he kissed her again.
Their mouths pressed together longer this time, moving slowly, lips parted. Their warm tongues mingled. Mallory had never felt anything like it, kissing so deeply. She shuddered with excitement.
When at last they separated, she realized his arms had slipped around her waist, and she’d moved closer up against him. She couldn’t recall sliding over, only the heat of their kisses.
“Was that okay?” he whispered.
She nodded, feeling another pleasant tingle with the memory of his touch.
Her heart hammered against her breastbone.
Her nipples pushed into her bra.
They kissed again.