barucai

[Mini Story] Everything's Bigger in Texas

Published: April 17th 2025, 6:34:59 am

Hi hi ✨

This is supposed to be Tuesday's mini story, sorry for the delay. I hope you like it! I added a couple extra images of Candy! Enjoy.

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Everything's Bigger in Texas

"You've got to be kidding me," Candy muttered, staring at the gleaming Ford F-150 sitting in the Enterprise rental lot. The morning Dallas sun bounced off its polished red exterior, almost mocking her with its inadequacy. "This is what passes for a full-size truck these days?"

Brandon looked from the vehicle to his girlfriend and back again, mentally calculating the geometry challenge they were facing. At five-foot-ten, he'd have no problems, but Candy's eight-foot frame and broad shoulders were another matter entirely.

"It's the biggest they had available," he said, twirling the keys around his index finger. "The F-350 we reserved got rear-ended yesterday by some oil executive late returning it."

Candy crossed her arms—a movement that made her biceps bulge impressively against the fabric of her plaid button-up. She'd rolled the sleeves to her elbows, revealing forearms corded with muscle that most heavyweight boxers would envy.

"This is Texas," she said, waving her hand dramatically at the horizon. "Everything's supposed to be bigger in Texas! I thought that included the damn trucks."

Brandon grinned up at her. "Darlin', I don't think even Texas was prepared for you."

The rental agent, a lanky college-aged kid who had been hovering nearby, cleared his throat. "We, uh, took out the middle console like you asked, sir. Should give the lady a bit more... space." His eyes kept darting up to Candy's face, then back to Brandon's, clearly uncomfortable with addressing her directly.

"Thanks, man." Brandon tipped an imaginary hat. "That'll help."

The agent retreated hastily to the air-conditioned office, leaving them alone in the lot.

Candy sighed and hoisted their duffel bags—one in each hand—as if they weighed nothing. "Four days of this. My spine's going to need a chiropractor by the time we get back to Seattle."

"We could still go with the convertible option," Brandon suggested, knowing full well what the answer would be. "You'd have plenty of headroom."

"And have my hair turn into a bird's nest? No thanks." She rolled her shoulders, which made a soft popping sound. "Not to mention the sunburn. You know how easily I burn."

Brandon nodded sympathetically. Candy's fair skin and ginger hair meant she and the Texas sun weren't exactly compatible. He moved toward the driver's side, then paused.

"You want to drive first? Might be easier to adjust the seat before we load all our stuff."

Candy considered the offer for a moment, then shook her head. "You start. I need to figure out how to fold myself into that sardine can first."

Brandon unlocked the truck and slid into the driver's seat while Candy circled to the passenger side, eyeing the door like it was a particularly complicated puzzle. The F-150 was a spacious vehicle by normal standards—roomy enough to comfortably seat most basketball players—but Candy existed in a different dimensional category altogether.

"Hold up," Brandon said before she could attempt entry. He leaned across and adjusted the passenger seat, pushing it all the way back and reclining it slightly. "Try now."

Candy opened the door and ducked her head—way down—to peer inside. With a deep breath, she began the elaborate choreography they'd perfected over their three years together: first one leg in, angled carefully; torso turned sideways and lowered; head kept tucked; second leg following with a controlled slide.

"Damn," she grunted as her head brushed the roof despite the seat being reclined. Her knees were practically touching the glove compartment even with the seat fully extended. "I feel like a contortionist."

Brandon tried not to laugh, but a snort escaped anyway.

"Oh, you think this is funny?" She gave him a look that was half-amusement, half-exasperation. "You try being built like a brick house on stilts."

"Sorry, sorry," he said, still smiling. "But you have to admit, it's a little funny. Like watching a great dane try to sit in a cat bed."

"Woof," she deadpanned, but her lips twitched upward.

Brandon started the engine, the truck's rumble providing a satisfying backdrop to the beginning of their adventure. "So, first stop is that barbecue place outside Waco that Tyler recommended?"

"Mmm, yeah," Candy nodded, consulting her phone. "About an hour and a half from here. Supposedly they have portions big enough to satisfy even me."

"I'll believe that when I see it," Brandon chuckled, pulling out of the lot. "Remember that 'feed four' platter in Portland?"

"An appetizer at best," she sniffed, but she was smiling fully now. "Though I will say, Texas does seem promising in the food department. I saw a billboard for a steakhouse advertising a 72-ounce challenge."

"You'd put that away as a light lunch," Brandon said with admiration in his voice.

"Damn straight." She stretched as best she could in the confined space, her fingertips grazing the roof. "Uff, I miss our F-350. At least I can sit upright in that beast."

"The salesman's face when we told him it was for you, not me," Brandon recalled with a grin. "Thought we were pulling his leg until you walked in."

"People always assume the big truck is the man's compensation mechanism," Candy said, giving him a playful nudge that still made him sway in his seat. "In our case, it's just practical engineering."

They merged onto the highway, joining the stream of vehicles heading south out of Dallas. The morning traffic was mercifully light, and the sprawling Texas landscape began to unfold before them—wide open spaces that seemed to go on forever under an impossibly big sky.

"You know," Brandon mused, "I thought Texas would feel... bigger somehow. After living in Seattle with all those mountains and trees hemming you in, I expected to feel tiny out here in all this openness."

"And?" Candy prompted, adjusting her position again to find a slightly more comfortable angle for her legs.

"And I don't. It's weird. Maybe because you're here, and you're my frame of reference for 'big' now."

She laughed, a rich sound that filled the cab. "Smooth talker. But I get it. Perspective is a funny thing."

Brandon glanced over at her, taking in the way the sunlight caught her copper hair and illuminated the light dusting of freckles across her nose. Even compressed into this awkward position, there was something magnificent about her—not just her size, but the comfort she had in her own skin, the way she carried herself with such self-assured grace.

"What are you staring at, weirdo?" she asked, catching his look.

"Just admiring the view," he replied easily. "Best part of the trip so far."

"Sap," she accused, but her cheeks colored slightly. "Eyes on the road."

They settled into a comfortable rhythm as miles of highway slipped beneath their wheels. Brandon tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the country music playing softly on the radio, while Candy alternated between giving directions and pointing out interesting sights.

"Oh, there's a stock show and rodeo in Fort Worth tomorrow," she said, scrolling through her phone. "Wanna check it out?"

"Definitely," Brandon nodded. "I want to see you next to one of those mechanical bulls."

"Don't even think about it."

"Too late. I'm already picturing it. You'd break the poor machine."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress her smile. "I'll stick to watching, thanks. Though I do want to see the livestock. Farm animals are usually pretty chill around me after the initial shock."

"Unlike people," Brandon observed.

"People are complicated," she shrugged. "Animals just accept what's in front of them."

A semi-truck passed them in the left lane, and Candy watched it with mild interest. "Now that," she said, pointing at the eighteen-wheeler, "is properly sized transportation."

"You want me to rent you a big rig next time?" Brandon teased. "You could ride in style while I follow behind in a normal-person vehicle."

"Don't tempt me," she laughed. "Though I've actually thought about getting a CDL before. Truck drivers make decent money, and it'd solve the transportation issue."

"You'd be the most popular person at every truck stop, that's for sure."

"Mmm, a career surrounded by middle-aged men with questionable hygiene. Dream job."

They fell into a comfortable silence for a few miles, the Texas landscape rolling past in a blur of greens and browns, occasionally broken by the geometric shapes of small towns or industrial areas.

"I think I need to readjust," Candy finally said, shifting uncomfortably. "My left leg's falling asleep."

Brandon glanced at the GPS. "There's a rest stop coming up in about ten miles. Can you hold out till then?"

"Yeah, should be fine." She rotated her ankle as best she could in the tight space. "Just need to walk around a bit."

"We could find a field and let you run around like a dog at the park," Brandon suggested with mock seriousness.

She reached over and flicked his ear, careful to moderate her strength. "Watch it, shorty. I can still fold you into a pretzel."

"Promises, promises."

The rest stop appeared on the horizon, a welcome sight with its cluster of picnic tables and vending machines. Brandon pulled in and parked in a far corner of the lot, giving Candy plenty of room to extract herself from the passenger side.

She opened the door and began the process of unfolding from the vehicle—first one leg stretching out, then torso twisting, finally emerging to her full, impressive height with a grateful groan. She raised her arms over her head and stretched languidly, her fingertips easily reaching above the truck's roof.

Brandon watched with unabashed appreciation as she worked the kinks out of her neck and shoulders, her muscles rippling beneath her shirt with each movement. Three years together, and the sight of her still took his breath away sometimes.

"What are you gawking at?" she asked, catching him staring again.

"Just wondering how I got so lucky," he said honestly.

She snorted and extended a hand to pull him out of the truck with effortless strength. "Come on, Romeo. I need to walk, and you need to stop ogling me in public before someone calls the police."

Hand in hand—her fingers completely enveloping his—they strolled toward the rest area, looking for all the world like any other couple on a road trip, just with more extreme proportions. A few travelers did double-takes as they passed, but most were polite enough to limit their reactions to curious glances.

"So," she said as they walked, her stride naturally slowed to match his, "still think everything's bigger in Texas?"

Brandon looked up at her, his expression playful. "Darlin', I think you might be the exception that proves the rule."

Candy laughed and tugged him closer to her side. "Four more days of cramped truck rides," she mused. "Think we'll survive?"

"With you around, I'd say the odds are pretty good." He winked. "Besides, they may have big skies and big steaks, but we've got something better."

"What's that?"

"Big adventures." He squeezed her hand. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

As they turned back toward the truck, the Texas sun high above them and the open road stretching out ahead, Candy found herself thinking that maybe—just maybe—size really was all a matter of perspective after all.