This sour mood lasts the rest of the day. We all get to Rigger Falls and decide to head down to the water—it’s a pretty warm day—and I just can’t shake the anger inside me. It’s always like this whenever I talk to him. We all know what they say about the definition of insanity. It’s me, doing the same thing, expecting things to be different. Nightfall comes, and I’m well on my way to wasted, not in the mood to socialize with anybody.
About an hour ago, I swiped a six-pack of beer and took it down to the waterfall by myself, needing the silence, to not have to worry about putting on a happy face when I feel anything but.
When I left the campsite, a fire was going and everyone was sitting around it, drinking and laughing and having a good ol’ fucking time, like I wish I was. Daisy, Cope, Colt, and Sterling were all playing poker. Jessie, one of the other barrel racers, and Clem were hanging out with Suzy, while Boone and Jade were who knows where. Probably fighting or fucking in their camper. The former is much more likely than the latter with them lately.
Bronc riding means everything to me. It’s been something I’ve worked my ass off at for years. I fought like hell to get here. Yet, sometimes lately, it’s like I can’t even enjoy it. It’s gone from being something I look forward to, to something like a chore, and it shouldn’t be that way. And logically speaking, I know I still love it, and I probably always will, but the daunting cloud of my father’s constant disapproval, no matter how hard I try,no matter how many times I win, seems to overshadow the good parts more and more lately.
Part of me wishes he’d stop watching my rides altogether, because then I wouldn’t have to hear his critique. But another part of me, the one who’s constantly seeking his approval, wants nothing more than to make him proud. The older I get, though, the more I wonder if that’s even possible.
Finishing the last of the beer, I grab the empty cans and make my way back to the campsite. I don’t know exactly how much time has passed because I left my phone in the camper, but I know it must have been at least a few hours. The fire’s put out by the time I get back, and it looks like everyone’s already in their campers for the night.
I make it to ours, pulling open the door as quietly as possible. It still squeaks a little, and I wince. At the front of the camper, there’s a bed that Cope’s claimed as his own, and then toward the back, there’s two sets of bunk beds. Sterling is on the bottom bunk of one, and I’ll take the bottom bunk of the other. They’re both already passed out.
Brushing my teeth quickly, I undress down to my boxer briefs and climb under my covers. The soft hum of Sterling’s even breathing is the only sound I can hear, and when I turn onto my side, hands tucked under my cheek, I have a clear view of his sleeping form. The moonlight peeks in through the blinds just enough to illuminate his face. His dark, thick lashes fan the tops of his cheeks, and his full lips are slightly parted as he breathes in and out, his face relaxed, the dimples that drive me crazy nowhere to be found.
Thinking back on our first night in Bellfire, the annoyance I’ve worked so hard to bury tonight boils to the surface again as images of that guy flirting with Sterling flit through my mind. He was looking at Sterling like he was three seconds away fromdropping to his knees and sucking his cock in front of everyone, and it made me want to fucking deck him.
My thoughts regarding Sterling make no sense. On the one hand, his mere presence bothers me to no end. He’s an obstacle I wasn’t planning on having to work through this season—much more talented than I ever could’ve anticipated—and for that reason, he’s a pain in my fucking ass. But on the other hand, I know what his lips feel like around my dick. I know how his mouth tastes, and the noises he makes when he falls apart. And despite my dislike for him, I can’t help but want to relive those memories again and again.
Especially on nights like tonight when liquor’s flowing through my blood, and I’m horny, it would be so fucking easy to slide into his bed beside him.
But then my conversation with my dad comes back, slapping me in the face, and just like that, the fire I felt for Sterling in my groin is doused with ice-cold water.
Like I said…the way I feel toward him makes no fucking sense.
9
Sterling Addams
Everyone was right; Rigger Falls is beautiful. I can see why they all come here every year in between gigs. A few of us went on a hike this morning, while Daisy, Jessie, Colt, and I decided to grab breakfast at a small diner in town instead. It’s probably safe to say all four of us are feeling rather sluggish today after last night. I don’t even think any of us drank all that much, but it must’ve been a combination of the back-to-back rodeo nights, the travel—while albeit a short distance—mixed with the little bit of alcohol that did us in.
We just got seated at a corner booth near the window. Jessie is curled up with Colt on one side of the table—I think they might be messing around? I’m not really sure, but I’ve noticed them being flirty with one another—and Daisy and I are on the other side. I’m glancing over the menu in front of me. There are so many options, I don’t know what to pick.
“What are you getting?” I ask Daisy, my perusal of the menu continuing.
“Hmm… probably the chorizo scramble. What about you?”
“I don’t know. I’m indecisive this morning, apparently.” I chuckle, scrubbing a hand down my face as I glance over at her. “The scramble sounds good, but so do some waffles.”
“So, get the waffles, and we can split our plates and each have some of both,” she suggests.
Smiling at her, I set the menu down on the table. “You know what? That’s a fantastic idea, Dais.”
The place is much busier than I would’ve thought, being such a small town, but only a few minutes later, the server comes by and takes our orders.
“How are you liking being back in Copper Lake? You used to live there when you were a kid, right?” The questions come from Jessie.
I nod as I swallow some ice water. “Yeah, I lived there when I was way younger, but I moved to Texas when my dad got a new job down there. I’m actually really happy to be living in Copper Lake again. I vividly remember loving being there as a kid, and in general, I didn’t love living in Texas.”
“How old are you?” Daisy asks, a dark blonde brow arched.
“Twenty-one.”
“You’re only a few years younger than us, but I don’t remember you at all in school or anything.”
“Yeah, you wouldn’t have,” I tell her. “I was homeschooled until I entered middle school.”
“Really?” Colt chimes in. “What was that like?”
