Cope pokes his head out of our camper, half-dressed, hair still damp on the top of his head. “Hold your damn horses, dude. It’s not even nine yet. We got time.”
Sitting on the picnic table, I sip on my cold Bud Light while watching all of this unfold. Tonight, all of us are going to some bar in town called The Honkytonk. Elder Village is a small ass town, this being just about the only bar in the whole place. We have our first of two rodeos tomorrow night, but we all collectively decided to go out tonight and let a little loose, doing something other than sitting around a campfire, drinking beer.
Me and Colt have been ready for the last twenty minutes, while everybody else gets ready at a snail’s pace. The girls are doing whatever it is girls do in the bathroom, Cope is at least finally showered and in the process of getting dressed, and who fucking knows what Shooter and Boone are doing.
I’m honestly surprised Boone is even coming. Since Jade and Suzy have been with him this whole trip, he’s been keeping a pretty low profile, but Jade must’ve agreed to stay back with Suzy tonight. I don’t know a whole lot about Boone, aside from his stats as a bull rider. He’s always plastered all over social media, but it’s other people posting him. He doesn’t keep up with his own accounts nearly as much as the other guys; Shooter and Colt specifically.
Shooter’s one of the only openly queer cowboys in the rodeo, so he’s always flaunted in articles for that, and there’re always girlsandguys posting about him. Colt is just a playboy who seems to have a different girl on his arm wherever he goes, so there’s always speculation about that. Cope has his time with the media too, but he’s a lot more lowkey than the other two. He’s hardly ever been photographed with a date.
And then there’s Boone, one of the few pro bull riders who’s married with a kid right now. He’s the oldest out of all of us, but only by a few years. He’s a fan favorite, though, that’s for damn sure. And I can see why. He’s very attractive with his curly, dark brown hair, similar to mine, pale green eyes, golden tan skin rippled with muscle, and that damn porn-stache that drives everyone wild. As far as bull riders go, he’s much more built than most, which clearly makes the buckle bunnies drool. He’s been married, to his wife, Jade, his whole professional career, so like I said, out of all of the guys—not including myself—he’s been the one who’s stayed out of trouble the most.
Shooter steps out of the camper, and my eyes automatically skirt to him, taking in how good he looks tonight. My heart thumps hard in my chest, taking in his tight, faded Wranglers that somehow look made just for him, a short-sleeve, black t-shirt that he rolled up the sleeves on, and his black, gold-toed cowboy boots. No hat tonight, but he’s got a thin gold chain dangling from around his neck that automatically puts images inmy mind’s eye that I’d really rather not think about, like how it’d look hanging there if he were on top of me while he fucked me again.
My cheeks instantly heat at that thought, and at the memory of what we did just last night. I’ve done my best to avoid him today, which thankfully hasn’t been too challenging since Daisy, Cope, and I went on another hike first thing this morning, and he was gone by the time we returned. I still don’t know how I feel about everything that went down in that shower stall. My ass has been uncomfortably sore all day; every time I sit or stand or move even the slightest, a sharp reminder of it all comes rushing back to me.
The memory is hot, not gonna lie, and once I got past the initial burn and pain from the stretch, it felt really damn good. But it’s Shooter, and I keep telling myself I won’t go there again… only to keep going there every time we’re alone together. We’re like two magnets, unable to resist. I don’t get it, and honestly, I’m done trying to make sense of this draw I feel toward him. I need to stay away from him, and make sure we aren’t alone together. That’s all. I can’t letthathappen again. It felt good, and I don’t regret it, but I’m sure if I allow it to happen again, I would. So, I just gotta stay away.
And I can do that. Surely, I can find some buried self-control and manage to make it through the rest of this season without winding up beneath him again.
His eyes scan the area, finding mine, and the smirk that tugs on his lips tells me he’s going to do everything in his power to ensure I don’t stick to my plan.
Thankfully, everyone finishes getting ready quickly and we’re able to hit the road. Since it’s such a small town, and the bar is only a few miles away, we all ride in Colt’s truck—Boone and Cope sitting in the cabin, while the rest of us pile into the bed.That way, only one of us has to remain sober, and thank Christ, it’s not me.
The parking lot is pretty empty when we arrive, but the inside is crawling with people. Loud music, neon lights, and the stench of sweat and cheap beer greet us as we step inside. No cover, which is nice. The place is small, with a bar toward the back, a few booths, a couple more tables, and a dance floor that can’t be any bigger than ten by ten.
All of us head to the bar to order drinks. Cope and Colt do a quick round of rock, paper, scissors, and when I side-eye them both, Colt chuckles and says, “It’s to see who’s DD tonight.”
Cope loses, and Colt cheers before ordering us all a round of tequila shots. Squeezing around a tall table that’s clearly too small for us all, we pass around the salt and lime wedges before tossing back the shots. Tequila is not my favorite liquor, not by a long shot, but it will do the job that needs to be done. Another few shots later, we all find ourselves on the dance floor, song after song playing as we sweat and laugh, grinding on each other, not a single care in the world. Based on the name of this place alone, I figured it was a country dive bar, but with the type of music playing, that assumption was way off. Early 2010s hits cycle, nostalgia hanging heavy in the air.
Every so often, Shooter’s arm will brush against mine, and as if my body just knows his, I don’t even have to look to know it’s him. Same with his gaze. I can feel the weight of it on my body, but I don’t even have to look to know it’s him watching him. Thankfully, he mostly keeps his distance, as if he knows I’m trying to avoid him.
Sage The Gemini’sGas Pedalcomes to an end as Daisy links her arm through mine, shouting into my ear loud enough for me to hear, “Let’s go get more shots!”
She takes my hand, her other dragging Colt behind her as we weave our way through the sweaty bodies littering the floor.We’ve only been here about an hour, but it’s gotten much busier than when we first arrived. While we’re waiting for the bartender to make her way toward us, Jessie and Boone step up beside us, his curly hair slicked to his forehead underneath his backward baseball cap, her hair, which was down when we got here, thrown up into a messy knot on top of her head.
“Where’s everybody else?” I ask loudly over the music.
“Outside smoking,” Boone replies.
Daisy leans in, asking quiet enough that only I hear, “Anything else go on with you and my brother?”
I haven’t told her about last night. I want to, but one: I haven’t exactly had a chance. Every time she and I have been around each other today, it’s been with other people. And two: I’m kind of nervous about it. Especially after her whole“be careful”speech after learning I was a virgin. I went and did the exact opposite of her advice. How much more of an idiot can I be? So, yeah, I’m maybe, sort of avoiding that conversation for as long as I can.
Shaking my head, I hate that I’m lying to her. Thankfully, the bartender picks this moment to come take our drink order. We land on two rounds of shots instead of one, which I’m more than okay with. I’ve got a good buzz going, but I could definitely use a little more liquor diluting my blood. Maybe make my mind a bit hazier so I stop thinking about Shooter. He plagues my thoughts like a disease, always there, front and center, even when I don’t want him to be.
Speaking of the Devil himself, Shooter strolls up to the bar where we’re all standing, with Cope and Clem trailing behind him. He spots me, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth as he throws me a wink that sends flutters through my stomach.
Dammit.
Daisy must catch it too, because when I turn back to face forward, she nudges my arm and chuckles.
The bartender sets our shots down, and we all take them back to back. As the night progresses and more liquor is consumed, the rowdier all of us become. The bar is packed, which seems odd for a Thursday night, but hey, not complaining. We all laugh and sing and dance, and I genuinely cannot remember a night when I had this much fun. It’s exactly what I needed. Feeling so carefree, not having to be responsible, and for a while, I’m actually able to keep my mindoffShooter.
That is, until he winds up in my line of sight again.
It’s nearly closing time, all of us dripping with sweat that’s probably pure tequila at this point, whenWobbleby V.I.C. comes on. I don’t think I’ve heard this song since I was in high school, but it’s like muscle memory takes over, and before I know it, I’m in the middle of the dance floor, moving along with everybody else to the beat. Glancing to my right, I see Colt beside me, and we both throw our heads back and laugh as the chorus hits.
Jumping forward, we shake our hips around before hopping back and doing the same. Our bodies move fluidly to every part of the song, everyone around us synced up, doing the same. Looking over toward the bar, our whole crew is watching Colt and I, but more specifically, Shooter is watchingme. Something about the heat in his eyes is like another double shot of tequila to the brain.
