by J. R. Rogue
“I know. I know.” Too many secrets lived there.
“Is that how you still are about it?”
“Actually, I brought some. I want you to read it.” I pulled a few of the folded papers from my purse and handed them to her. She took them, and began reading. I felt a knot in my stomach immediately. Perhaps they were not as good as I thought. I wanted to get over my fear. I wanted to show someone what was inside of me. To feel a deeper release than the one I felt when the words left my fingertips. Kat smiled, and some of my fear subsided. She finished and handed the papers back to me.
“Who are they about?”
“Chace,” I admitted. She smiled lightly, a knowing smile. I wanted her to know. I wanted to confess to her that I always had to have a muse. I had burned the rest, sure, but I needed them. She was my closest friend. She was the sister I never had. I wanted to confess. “I don’t know what to do Kat. I can’t get him out of my head.” I groaned.
She arched on brow. “Is that a bad thing?”
“I think! Yes? I don’t know. He’s too good.” The server brought out our subs and drinks. I took a bite of mine and moaned. It was so delicious. Kat started cutting hers up.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
I swallowed my bite. “He’s kind. He’s smart. He’s stupid hot. Ugh.” I picked up my sub and took another large bite. It was superficial. It was a crush. It needed to be fleeting.
“And these are reasons he sucks?”
“They’re reasons I suck. Reasons I shouldn’t go for the perfect guy.” Deep down I knew he was too good for me. He was too good for a woman with a track record of using men.
“What do you mean?” Kat leaned both of her elbows on the table and stared at me.
I swallowed another bite. “I’ve never told you this. But everything I’ve ever written, is true. All of my books, I did those things. I can’t write unless I have someone to write about.”
“What’s so wrong with that? Isn’t that what most writers need? A muse?” She grabbed her Pepsi and slurped some down. She wasn’t staring at me with judgment or shock. She was staring at me with her honest, open, Kat eyes. The ones that comforted me.
“Yeah,” I managed, grabbing my own drink, suddenly parched. “But they don’t hurt them all. I can’t do that with Chace. I didn’t just come back here to write. I came here to break the cycle.”
“I think you’re being too hard on yourself. I think, you’ve let this feeling, that you’re doing something wrong, halt your writing. Maybe, that’s why you haven’t written in so long. You think you’re doing something you shouldn’t.”
“But how am I not? I would go seek guys out, just to use them for writing.” Maybe she didn’t fully understand my confession.
“Sera,” she placed her hands on the table, her voice was firm. “You are just going to have to put that behind you. Men use women all the time. Men use men. Women use women. Humans use humans. I know I’m the wrong damn person to talk to about this right now. You’re just going to have to accept that I am on your side.”
“I don’t want to use Chace.”
“That,” she said, pointing to the folded papers by my phone, “feels different. I’ve read all of your books. They’re hot. They’re great. But this, this feels like, I don’t know. It’s not sex poetry. I mean, some of it is, but it’s more. I’m not saying you love the guy. That’s just stupid. But, if this is coming from him. Don’t fight it.”
“He mentioned that maybe you and I could go out with him and my brother this Saturday. I didn’t commit to anything. Will you please go with me?” I pressed my hands together and pretended to beg.
She laughed and picked her sub back up. “Yes. I’d like that. Where are we going?”
I bit my lip. “Some honky tonk dance bar. Midnight Cowboy?” It was not my scene, and I doubted it would be hers.
“I’ve heard of it.” She grabbed a few pickles and placed them on her sub, smiled, and took another bite.
“Thank you,” I said as I took a bite of my own.
“No problem,” she mumbled through hers.
“Not for saying you’ll go,” I clarified. “For supporting me. You always do.”
She tilted her head and smiled, her warm Kat smile. “I always will.”
Saturday turned out to be one of the best days since my return to the Ozarks. Kat and I traveled two towns over to the closest mall. I needed a new outfit for that night. I needed to start drinking at noon. I needed a tranquilizer. Fuck. This was a ritual of mine. Going out? Buy new clothes. Chace was right. I had a problem.
My mother met us for lunch and drinks. After, we continued shopping to the point of exhaustion. I found myself nervous for the night’s event. It was not a date, but I felt everything I used to feel before dates. The anxiety. The fear. The euphoric wondering.
I had seen Chace more throughout the week. He took me to pick up my new cycle. I sensed his awareness of a change in me. I was terrible at hiding these things.
Kat came home with me straight from our manic shopping and we ate a light dinner, spending most of the time getting ready. I promised to make up the couch for her if things got out of hand. She would probably benefit from a little reckless fun. She said she wanted to act more like me, after all.
I had not put on a pair of cowboy boots in years, but I purchased a new pair that day. I tucked them under dark slim boot cut jeans, and wore a billowy white top that fell off one shoulder. Kat curled my long dark locks, a task I hated and normally paid someone to do. In return, I took the time to straighten her wavy red strands. We were always trying to be who we were not, weren’t we?
I pulled a bottle of wine from the fridge and popped the top, pouring each of us a glass. We sat on the porch and waited, and after a glass and a half, I heard Andrew pull up in his SUV.
I tipped back the last sip of my drink and we headed inside. I already felt a little light headed and wobbly from my drink as I walked through my room and gathered my things. I shut everything off and headed out, Kat rushed to my restroom, the wine hitting her. I took my time on each step downstairs; I would trip and fall easily in these clunky new boots, completely sober.
Even with this extra care, I felt my heel slip a bit on the last step when I reached the bottom floor. “Shit! Ugh!” I barked out as I grabbed the banister and dropped my keys. “Mother effer…” I sighed.
Reaching down, I heard a low chuckle behind me down the hall. The door to the laundry room was open. I snatched my keys up and made my way around the banister to face the person laughing at my misfortune. Chace was smiling at me as he folded laundry, shirtless. Fuck. Well that was hardly fair.
“You alright?” He smiled lightly, staring directly into my eyes. I felt my face heat immediately.
“Yeah, damn boots.” I pointed down, as if he didn’t know where my feet were. I looked up and saw him slowly take in my entire outfit, when his eyes finally made it back to mine I was thinking thoughts I shouldn’t thanks to that glass of wine. He needed to get dressed. He needed more clothes on. Now. Andrew walked in the front door loudly, the way he did everything, pulling my eyes from his friend.
“Honey, I’m hooooooooommmeeeee!!!” he sang. I laughed. “Jesus Chace, put a damn shirt on in front of my sister. What the hell is going on in this place while I’m away?”
I heard Chace laugh behind me and Kat laugh from the stairs. I rolled my eyes at my brother and walked over, slapping him on the arm.
He flinched dramatically. “But seriously man, put a shirt on and let’s roll. These ladies can’t be out late; they’re getting up in the years.” I slapped him harder. He flinched in earnest.
Andrew insisted Kat sit shotgun so that they could catch up. I was stuck in the back of the SUV with Chace for the hour-long drive, and it felt like I had been shoved into a dark room with him with no windows. For the entire drive he leaned forward and inserted himself into the conversation our friends were having. I didn’t know if that was better or worse than him focusing his
attention on me.
Kat’s encouragement had me thinking something with Chace, something real, would be alright. That it wouldn’t be the end of the world for everyone who knew us. I wanted to continue to write about him, regardless. This was a bad thing. I wasn’t in New York anymore. I couldn’t just use someone and discard them easily knowing the chance of running into them was slim. I was living with my new muse. I now considered him a friend as well. Each night my fingers hit the keys I pushed aside the guilt, reminding myself how much I needed this. To create a story, something more than my past work.
None of us had ever been to Cowboys before. It had only been open for about two months; the packed dance floor was filled with people still enjoying the newness of the bar. Despite being a so-called ‘Western’ bar, the company was mixed. Floating among the cowboy hat and boot wearing were those dressed in the trendy attire you would encounter downtown.
We strolled by the dance floor, a familiar old country song hit my ears as I took in the line of smiling people moving in sync to some sort of line dance. George Straight. I smiled. That was real country music.
We found four empty bar stools on the outside of the railing that bordered the dance floor, directly behind us was the largest of the three bars in the huge, open room. College-aged girls leaned over the bar, flirting with bartenders, sipping drinks, laughing. Andrew offered to get the first round and retreated with Chace.
“This feels awkward,” Kat said, nudging me with her arm and directing her gaze at a girl, obviously the same age as the guys we were with. She was wearing very little clothing, shaking her hips on the dance floor. “Do we look like cougars?” She pointed her thumb towards the direction the boys went.
“I know,” I groaned. “But let’s not forget that you said this would be fun!” I raised my index fingers to my face and pulled my smile wide and stared at her creepily.
She playfully slammed the heel of her hand into her forehead, causing me to drop my hands and we both laughed. “I’m going to go check my makeup, be right back,” she announced. Andrew and Chace returned with our drinks moments after.
My brother took a swig of his beer and planted his feet in front of me, obstructing my view of the floor. I looked up at him. “Can I help you?”
“Kat is fucking hot,” he declared.
I rolled my eyes and swirled my drink around with the straw. “Oh brother, noooooo…”
“What?” He shrugged his shoulders. Chace chuckled to my right, his shoulders bouncing up and down.
I narrowed my eyes at my sibling. “You can’t say that about her.” I took a long drink of my cranberry and vodka. It was strong.
“Why? It’s true,” he said, matter-of-factly.
“Okay,” I said, setting my drink down and squaring my shoulders. “She is going through a divorce.” I held up my index finger. That’s one.
“I’m not saying I want to date her. I’m not saying I want to do anything with her. I’m just saying she is hot. It’s just a casual observation.” He held up his hands, one palm up, one with his beer, in defeat.
“Good, because you are too young for her.” I held up my other finger. That’s two.
“Well, that’s not true,” he said.
“She’s too mature for you.” I held up the third finger. That’s three.
“Ouch.” He clutched his chest dramatically. “And touché. I’m just having fun. I think she is too.”
“I can tell she is. Thanks. I just wanted to get her out of that house so she could see that the world is still turning. I’d say we have been successful.” Kat returned just as I finished talking. Chace moved from his spot next to me and offered his stool to her.
“Do you girls know how to do this?” Andrew asked, gesturing to the synchronized dancers. The foot stomping and hand clapping mesmerized me, and for a moment, I wished I had the nerve to dance. But I never did. I was the wallflower. I was the observer.
“No, never been to a place like this,” Kat said, her mouth around her straw. “And Sera doesn’t dance.”
“You don’t dance?” Andrew asked, incredulously. I was rewarded with this reaction every time myself or someone said it. Various outcomes came from this, some men immediately wrote me off as uptight. Some took it as a challenge, wanting to be the guy to get me out there. Some sat next to me the whole night, never leaving, knowing I had nowhere else to go.
“Nope,” I answered, hoping the subject would change. Kat rescued me.
“Do you know how to do that?” Kat nodded her head to the dancers, and we all looked back at them again.
“Oh yeah, I had a girlfriend who loved line dancing. She taught me everything she knew.”
“He is actually pretty good,” Chace cut in. His voice was close. I looked up at him over my shoulder. He smiled.
“C’mon, let me show you.” My brother motioned to Kat with his hand. Kat downed her drink quickly and followed him into the ocean of sweaty bodies. This couldn’t be good.
“And then there were two,” Chace laughed.
I huffed, my smile resembled a grimace more than anything. He walked behind me and took Kat’s abandoned stool. It would be snatched if we didn’t keep it occupied.
After watching our friends move awkwardly around the floor for two songs, in silence, Chace wandered off to the pool tables located near the entrance, leaving me to scowl alone. I placed my hand on the stool, daring anyone to steal it. No one attempted to ask me to dance; my resting bitch face scaring off any potential suitors.
I knew this couldn’t last long, there was always one fool who sauntered up, swaying confidently, throwing out a lame line, “It can’t be that bad girl, let’s dance, that’ll put a smile on your face.” My response was always a tightlipped, “No, thanks.” I heard someone walk up behind me, I waited for them to pass me and head to the dance floor, but they didn’t.
“She looks happy.” It was Chace.
“Yeah, she does,” I admitted. “It’s nice to see her smile. She had gotten a little weird on me for a minute there, on her phone a lot. I was worried she was talking to her ex.”
She hadn’t been glued to her phone all night, but she had wandered off in a few stores earlier that day with her phone in her face. Something was up.
“The ex-husband?” Chace asked.
“Yeah, she kept texting. Every time I asked who it was she said her mom, or her sister, or so and so. I know she was lying. But she has done a 180 tonight.”
“Well, that’s good.” A silence stretched between us. Tonight had been strange. Chace had turned shy again. I didn’t know if it was the fact that we were with other people or not. It was the only thing to explain the difference in his attention. He turned to me. “So you really don’t dance?”
“I don’t really know any of those dances.” Nearly everyone on the floor seemed to know what they were doing. I didn’t know any country dances. They were swirling, twirling, smile machines.
“You can two-step,” Chace stated.
“Is that a question?” I turned to face him.
“No. You can two-step. Anyone can two-step. Come on.” He stood and walked around me. He reached for my hand and gently pulled it off the railing.
“No, I can’t.” I quickly pulled it out of his warm grasp.
“You can’t always be the wallflower. Let’s go.”
He reached for my hand again, after a moment of hesitation I grabbed it and let him lead me to the floor. We stayed on the edge, away from the mass of bodies. He positioned us into the correct stance, pulling my left hand into his, grabbing my other hand placing it on my shoulder, and resting his other hand at the small of my back. I warmed at the feel of his hand against my bare skin there. My top sat a few inches above my jeans.
“Now, watch my feet,” he instructed. His breath was on my ear; I fought the urge to look up into his eyes and trained my eyes down to our feet. I mimicked his movements, with my own boots.
We moved around the floor effortlessly. Every part of me was aware of hi
m. I felt him in the places his skin touched mine, and the places I wanted him to. My pulse, beating in all the spots I craved his mouth, drowned out the music. Slowly I moved my body closer to his, his hand dug a little into the small of my back, and I sighed slightly in his ear. Involuntarily. Fuck.
His own mouth, so close to my ear, set me on fire. His soft voice swept through me. “You say I’m easy to talk to, well you are too. But I hold myself back sometimes.”
I caught Kat’s wide eyes over the side of Chace’s arm. I turned my face, and tilted my head up towards his ear. “Why?”
“I’m an outgoing guy, despite everything in my life. I can talk to anyone, I make friends easily. But I don’t do serious talks. Not with many people. I mean, a lot of guys keep feelings in, so I guess it’s not entirely abnormal.”
“I guess.” Society pushed men to believe they had to be stoic. I disagreed. I was attracted to artists, and creative minds. They tended to be more open. If they had trouble voicing their feelings, it came out in their music, their work, their books. Often I was the taciturn one in the relationship.
Chace pulled back, and looked down at me. His gaze was penetrating. “I like you,” he said, simply. We both knew there was nothing simple about those words.
I stared back. We had stopped dancing. Couples zipped passed us, most likely shooting daggers at us. I didn’t care. “I like you, too.”
“More than a friend,” he stated. His tone was confident. His eyes were not.
“Me too.” I felt something release inside of me. I had said it. Not to myself, not to Kat. To him. Everything would change.
“Okay,” he replied. It was all I needed. He pulled me close again. We danced for one more song, and then made our way back to Andrew and Kat, where they wore knowing looks.
The drive to the bar was hell, but the drive home burned hotter. It felt as though Chace was all around me. Chace, having only drank water or soda all night, was the DD. I was drunk on vodka and his touch.