“I haven’t seen it but I know enough about what happened.” Beau looks serious now, and I know he’s being honest. He’s not one to snoop, nor is he one to scroll through social media.
I sigh. “Then you get it, right? It looks bad because I punched the guy who beat me earlier that day. It makes me look like an immature loser who can’t handle not winning.”
“I know you’re not that man, Nate. So why do it? Why were you pissed at him?”
I drain the last of my beer, hoping it gives me the courage to tell my best friend what I haven’t been able to say to anyone else yet. I still can’t believe what I saw, and I feel like I must be making it up. The email has sat in my drafts folder for weeks because I can’t get myself to send it—what if no one believes me? Not only would I be a sore loser, I’d be a sore loser who cried wolf. Fuck.
“I saw,” I start to say, and then stop, because something on the dance floor has caught my eye.
A man—scrawny and tall like a scarecrow—has his hands on Candice. And she doesn’t look too happy about it.
“I’ll be right back,” I say, putting my empty beer bottle on the table, and leaving Beau behind without another word.
13
CANDICE
Jenny slamsa shot down in front of me, and one in front of Tomás as well, but I don’t even glance at it. I’m too busy watching Nathan flirt with a woman at the table next to his. It’s Sarah Palmer. I went to high school with her and she didn’t like me very much. I was considered to be a bit of a weirdo at school, since everyone knew Beau and I didn’t have any parents, and I was too busy at the barn to do many extracurriculars or make many friends. Sarah used to make fun of me. Not in a way I couldn’t handle, and I always made fun of her back but yeah. She’s kind of a bitch.
A hot bitch, though, I’ll give her that. Which is probably why Nathan is smiling at her like that—wide, eyes all twinkly, leaning in towards her ever so slightly.
“He makes me sick,” I mutter.
“What?” Jenny says, and then she follows my line of sight. “Oh. Yeah. Nate hasn’t wasted any time. But I guess if Sarah’s fine with being a one-night stand, then there’s nothing wrong with it.”
“Sure,” I say, because she’s right. Nathan can do whatever he wants. I guess it just weirds me out because I’ve never had a one-night stand, or anything close to it.
“You sound pissed,” Tomás says, and then knocks back his shot. “Or jealous.”
“Definitely not jealous,” I mutter. I quickly toss back my shot as well, and then link my arm through Jenny’s, and grab Tomás with my other.
“Let’s dance more,” I say.
“I’ll meet you out there,” Jenny says. “I’m gonna go pee.”
She starts pushing her way through the crowd and Tomás says, “And I promised Jane Hudson I’d buy her a drink tonight, so I’d better find her. I’ll see you guys later.”
Alone, I head towards the center of the floor, which is packed with couples and groups of people dancing. The queer community in Star Mountain is close knit and they show up in full force for dance nights at the Neon Horseshoe. It feels a bit awkward to be out here on my own, but I’m tipsy now, and having a good time dancing. I don’t need anyone else. I’m good at being alone. Nathan called me lonely, but I’m also self-sufficient. I can run the whole damn barn by myself, and I can dance by myself, and I can love myself enough to not need a man.
Just as I’m sinking further into my warm, tipsy haze, a pair of clammy hands skim my waist and pull me in. I jerk away, and turn to find Ralph, my one and only ex-boyfriend.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Saying hi,” he says, reaching forward and tugging me back towards him. His hands grope my back and waist, as he tries to cajole me into dancing with him.
“Get off me, please,” I say, trying to disentangle myself from him.
“Come on, Candice,” he says. My name on his lips makes me want to retch. “We were good. We could be good again.”
“When,” I say, pushing him back with my hand, “were we ever good?” I spare a glance around the floor, hoping to see Jenny coming back from the bathroom.
Ralph just pulls me closer—so close that I can smell the alcohol on his breath, and can see the beads of sweat on his brow. Around us, country music pounds out of the speakers, and couples twirl around without a care in the world. I start to feel nauseous and I’m not sure if it’s the situation or the alcohol I’ve had.
“You look good tonight. I want you back.”
He says it with such desperation that I can’t help but roll my eyes. That shit doesn’t work on me anymore.
“So? What about what I want, asshole?” I push him away again.
