Page 69 of Rocky Top

Birdie leaned in and kissed me, hot and quick and full of fire, I knew I was already hers.

Whether she knew it yet or not.

She was still staying with Eliza, but she said she needed to get a few things. The ride back to Birdie’s place was supposed to end with my hands under her dress and her breath hot against my skin.

Instead, it ended with a family of goddamn raccoons starin’ me down like I was trespassin’.

“What in the hell…” I muttered, pullin’ off my helmet and squintin’ up at her front porch.

Five of ‘em. Big, fluffy, beady-eyed little bandits sittin’ in a line across the top step like they were waitin’ for her to come home.

Birdie let out a delighted gasp, practically hoppin’ off my bike before I’d even cut the engine. “Look at them! Oh my God, they’re all here!”

“All?” I followed behind her, warily eyein’ the masked critters like they were armed and organized. “You mean youknowthese little rabies bombs?”

She turned around, beamin’ like I’d just brought her flowers. “Rocky, these aremy raccoons.”

I blinked. “I’m sorry.Yourwhat now?”

“They come every night.” She fished a half-bag of marshmallows outta her purse like it was the most natural thing in the world. “I feed them.”

I backed up a step. “Birdie, those are wild animals. That one’s missin’ part of his ear.”

She waved that off like I’d just pointed out the color of the sky. “That’s Chunk. He’s the alpha.”

“Thealpha,” I repeated flatly. “Jesus Christ.”

“He’s sweet! And they’re part of my TikTok content.”

I rubbed my temples. “You’re tellin’ me you film yourself feedin’ porch possums for the internet?”

“Raccoons,” she corrected, tossin’ a marshmallow to one like she was Snow White and this was just her enchanted Appalachian kingdom. “It’s calledraccoon core. Very on-trend right now.”

I blinked at her, deadpan. “What the fuck is a raccoon core?”

She giggled, the sound damn near makin’ me forget how unsanitary this whole situation was. “It’s aesthetics, Rocky. Vibes. Peoplelovewoodland chaos. You mix a little neon text, some slow-mo edits—boom. Millions of views.”

I stared at her like she’d grown antlers.

She leaned against the porch railing, hair messy from the ride, cheeks flushed from laughter, and said, “I have a confession.”

Here it comes.

“Part of why I was campin’ out alone that night…” Her voice trailed off and her shoulders slumped. “I was tryin’ to get some video. Y’know, for the account. I was gonna splice together a little raccoon-core-meets-cozy-camping thing.”

Itook a slow step up beside her. “You were out there in the woods. Alone. Tryin’ to film trash pandas?”

She winced. “Okay, when you say it likethat… and no, other critters.”

I looked down at the biggest one—Chunk, apparently—who was lickin’ marshmallow goo off his freakishly human-like paws. “Sunshine, I don’t know whether to kiss you or call animal control.”

She snorted, then got quiet.

“It’s just… hard sometimes,” she murmured. “I know I make it look like I’ve got it all figured out, marketing manager, social media, but it’s a hustle. I’ve got bills. I send my mom in Nashville money when I can. I’m tryin’ to build a side thing. Something that’s mine.”

I stared at her, chest goin’ tight in a way I didn’t expect.

“You’re tellin’ me folks pay you for this? Like… raccoon footage?”

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