Small towns and second chances go together like spray paint and anatomically exaggerated graffiti. Okay, maybe you had to grow up in Copper, Texas to understand that reference, but if you did, you'd get it.

​​​​​​​And you'd probably never be able to forget it. Or outrun it.

I was the wildest girl in town once, but that feels like a lifetime ago. In reality, it's been barely over a decade. He was the boy with the strongest arm and the truest aim. The rebel child and the golden boy. Together, we were hellbent for chaos. Who was the match and who was the gasoline? Depended on the day.

Mistakes were made. Futures were altered. But sometimes, you have to go home again . . .

I thought my days of dirty karaoke and lewd (allegedly) graffiti were behind me. He thought he'd never see me in our hometown again.

But you know what they say: one flirty exchange over some deceased chickens can change everything.

We're not kids anymore, but when we're together, we still own the night, which begs the question:

Were we really bad for each other back then? Or were we simply too young? Maybe growing up doesn't always mean outgrowing your first love.