To All the Cowboys I've Loved Before

by D. R. Graham

  If this is what his goodnight kiss does to my body, I don’t know if I can handle anything more ambitious. Although, I’m not opposed to trying. The rush through my veins is literally euphoric. I want to go further. Be bold, Della. Take a risk. Go for it. The bed is less than an arm’s length away. No, don’t mess it up by getting in over your head. Stick to the level that most thirteen-year olds have already mastered. But he will want more than that. He’s a grown man. His fingers glide across the skin between the bottom of my blouse and the waistband of my pants, then linger seductively as if it’s something he’s looked forward to all day. He clutches the fabric of my blouse as if he wants to take it off. I could handle that, I think. But he doesn’t do it. His eyes close tightly for a second as he musters the strength to do whatever he’s about to do next. Eventually he releases the fabric of my blouse and his fingers intertwine with mine. Then he lifts my hand to kiss the back of it.

  “Goodnight, Della.”

  Wow. I can’t swallow. I’m dizzy. How could something as sweet and innocent as a goodnight kiss do so many things to me? He’s good. Like phenomenally good. Is it weird that I’m already looking forward to tomorrow night? And every night after that. “Night,” I finally choke out.

  He’s amused by how dazed I am and chuckles as he steps back. Before he turns the doorknob, he leans over and gives me another quick peck on the cheek. “Sweet dreams. See you in the morning.”

  My head nods like a bobble head. After he’s crossed the hall, I close the door and lean my forehead on the wood, trying to catch my breath. I love him already. Well, not love-love. Yet. But the infatuation part is firmly established. And by established, I mean pulsating. Ironically the first person I’ve ever been interested in sexually is a complete gentleman who literally left me yearning for more. I’ve never even wanted anything before, now I want more? If he keeps leaving me hanging like this, I wouldn’t put it past myself to beg. Seriously, on my knees, pleading with him not to leave. Surprising, and possibly slightly pathetic, but true.

  I spin around and flop down on my bed as the endorphins course through my blood. Too bad it’s too late to call my sister. She was fairly experienced at dating before she met her husband. Not sleazy or anything, but she kissed her fair share of boys throughout her teen years. She never shared any of the juicy details with me because I was so much younger than she was, but I could tell how much she liked a guy by how long they stood out by the back shed.

  Maybe she is awake. The baby doesn’t usually sleep through the night, and I’ve seen Yulia online late sometimes. I sit up and grab my phone out of my bag to text her: Are you sleeping?

  Her response is immediate: What’s wrong? Are you okay?

  I can almost feel the frantic big-sister panic in her typing. I’m fine. I just need some advice.

  One o’clock in the morning advice must mean boy advice.

  Yeah. Can you call me?

  She calls without even saying hello first and blurts out, “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this call. My little Dee Dee is finally ready for the sex talk.”

  I prop up the pillows to get comfortable. “Don’t get too excited. I don’t know if I’m quite there yet. I did have my first real kiss, though.”

  “Are you on birth control?”

  Whoa, apparently this crash course on the birds and the bees is moving from zero to sixty. “No.”

  “Okay, you have to find a doctor at the school clinic or wherever and get a prescription and some condoms, like tomorrow.”

  “We kissed. That’s all. I’m fairly sure unwanted pregnancy and STDs aren’t my priority.”

  “You want to be prepared. Just in case. Go tomorrow. Trust me. What’s his name? What’s he like?”

  “Easton. He’s very sweet, smart, and sexy.”

  “The three Ss. That’s good. Is he a student?”

  “Yeah he’s studying for his MBA. He’s also a rodeo cowboy and a rancher and a model.” I wince in anticipation of her reaction to what I’m about to divulge. “And he’s my roommate.”

  “Holy shit, Della. Does Dad know?”

  I hop up and head to my bathroom to get ready for bed. “No.”

  She laughs in an appreciative way, as if my predicament is the most entertaining thing she’s been a part of in a while. “Don’t tell Dad unless it lasts like six months or a year. And just because I told you to go on birth control, doesn’t mean you should give it away easy. Make him work for it to make sure he’s not just a jerk trying to sweet-talk you into bed.”

  “Easton is one of the good ones,” I say into the speaker as I put my phone down on the counter to wash my face.

  “So you think now, but they don’t show their true colors at first. Anyone can act romantic, adoring, and respectful in the beginning. Hold out.”

  “I thought most people expect sex on the second date,” I say as I change into pyjama shorts and a tank top.

  “How are you supposed to assess a person’s character after two dates? I recommend at least a month. The ones who are only hoping to get laid will give up and move on to an easier target. If Easton is still sweet and loyal and chivalrous after waiting a month, he deserves to get in your pants. And if he’s willing to hold out, you should probably keep him because guys like that don’t come around very often.”

  “Really?”

  “The world is full of horn-dogs and self-serving assholes, Della. You probably won’t meet many other guys who compare.”

  I sit back down on the end of my mattress and rub my palm over my face. “That puts so much pressure on me to not screw up.”

  “Not really. Screwing up is actually a good test to see how he handles it. No one is perfect, and you want to be with a partner who can accept that.”

  “It was only a kiss. You’re talking like I’m going to marry him.”

  “I met Alex when I was your age, remember? You kind of bypassed all the practice dating and jumped into the big leagues.”

  I nod and let that sink in. I should have started dating when I was twelve, so I’d be a pro by the time I met Easton. Maybe a seasoned veteran is a better choice of phrases than a pro in this case. Although both sound a little worn and used. Amateur, rookie, newbie. Ooh, I like newbie the best. It implies fresh on the scene but not necessarily incompetent. Although, there is a strong possibility I will be incompetent. “How will I know if I’m doing it right?”

  “What? Sex?” She laughs. “It’s not like all those cheesy teen romance novels you used to read where it’s clunky and awkward. A monkey can do it. Literally. Monkeys do it.”

  “That doesn’t help.”

  “Don’t worry, he’ll do most of the work. But don’t just lay there. They all like oral, so Google that.”

  “Yulia!”

  “What? You asked.”

  We continue to talk for almost an hour, not just about Easton and sex but about school and BJ and Chuck, too. I can hear the baby fussing, so I reluctantly call it a night. “Thank you for the tutorial. I should let you go. It’s getting late and I have class tomorrow.”

  “Any time. Just take it slow and be safe. That’s all you really need to know.”

  “Those are two things I can handle.” I climb under my covers and turn out my lamp. “Night.”

  “Night.”

  After I hang up, my thoughts immediately drift to Easton. Is he still awake? Is he thinking about me? Would he be willing to officially become boyfriend and girlfriend even though he and the guys agreed none of them should date me? Is he aware that we are at an age where the person you date might potentially be the person you marry? Will my inexperience, combined with the extent to which he fills out his boxers, be a problem? They all like oral?

  I pull my phone out and Google it. Oh my. How am I supposed to sleep with that image in my head?

  Chapter 12

  Easton

  Della and I have been taking it slow for two weeks, and it requires every ounce of restraint in me to sleep alone in my room each night,
knowing she’s right across the hall. I don’t mind, though. Having to wait actually has me more fired up than I’ve ever been over a woman. Her laugh, the way she glances at me from across the room when she doesn’t think I’m looking, her sweetness towards every single person she encounters, the smell of her hair in the morning—everything about her does something to me. The guys know we spend a lot of time together, walking to class and studying at the coffee shop, but they don’t know about the hand holding and goodnight kisses that have progressed to on-the-bed, half-clothed, make-out sessions. Hopefully I’ll eventually owe them some cash, but so far, no lines have been crossed.

  She’s coming with me today to a rodeo in Oakdale. BJ decided not to enter because he has an assignment due on Monday. Chuckie’s out, too. He claims his collarbone is bugging him, but I’ve seen him ride with a torn bicep. The injury’s only an excuse. The real reason he’s bent out of shape is because Janine’s been hanging out on campus with some guy who looks like a surfer. And he’s in a particularly foul mood this morning.

  “Would you like me to make you some breakfast, Taylor?” Della asks Chuck as she and I finish the Eggs Benny she made. “These were pretty good if I do say so myself.”

  He slams the cupboard door and pours himself a cup of coffee without answering her.

  “So, no?” she asks.

  His eyes roll slightly before he turns to leave.

  She stands to clear her dishes and says, loud enough for him to hear down the hall, “I was just trying to be nice.”

  He turns around, but not in a hey-I’m-sorry-you’re-right-I-was-being-a-dick way. He wants to get into it with her, so I stand. He glares at me as a challenge before he lowers his voice and says to Della, “Listen, sweetheart, I’m sick of the bullshit sunshine that’s always blowing out your uptight little ass. So, give it a rest. If I don’t feel like talking, I’m not going to talk. Get used to it.”

  “Back off,” I say to him.

  “It’s okay, Easton. I can handle myself,” she whispers. Her cheeks blush from the confrontation, but she remains calm as she continues, “I know you’re upset about Janine, Taylor, but it’s not fair to take it out on me. We can talk about it if you want to.”

  “I don’t give two shits about Janine. She’s free to hook up with whichever ass-wipe she wants to. Being the president of your little high school chess club probably made you feel so damn smart, but don’t fool yourself into believing that you know everything about me after living here for a couple weeks. And don’t kid yourself into believing we’re friends. I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but a twenty-one-year-old prude who has a pathetic PG-rated school girl crush on her roommate because he was the first guy she met after she left her mommy and daddy’s house doesn’t know shit about anything, especially not my relationship with Janine. So, go give your unsolicited advice to someone else.”

  Her giant doe eyes blink slowly as she attempts to keep her composure. “I didn’t offer you advice. I offered you breakfast. But since we’re on the topic, you didn’t treat Janine right. You deserve what you got. And you have nobody to blame but yourself.”

  He aggressively leans in, less than an inch from her face, and says, “You need to learn when to keep your mouth shut, you snotty little bitch.”

  I shove Chuck’s shoulder to make him back away from her. He throws his coffee in the sink, spewing it all over.

  Della flinches but doesn’t move and doesn’t say anything as I move to stand between them. He postures as if he wants me to hit him so he’ll have an excuse to fight, which is exactly why I don’t. He can’t take me anyway, and he knows it.

  Once he realizes I’m not going to take the bait, he scoffs and walks backwards. “Pussy. I’m outta here.”

  After the front door slams behind him, I turn to Della. She’s already wiping up the coffee from the floor. “You okay?”

  “I was president of the debate club, not the chess club,” she mumbles to herself as she wrings the towel in the sink.

  “Don’t take anything he said personally. He’s an idiot.”

  Her eyes widen in a humorous expression and she points at me. “Remember when I tried to explain how I have a knack for triggering rage in other people? Exhibit A.”

  “That wasn’t your fault. His asshole genes made him do that. And he wouldn’t have actually hurt you, which doesn’t make what he did okay. But he would never hurt you.”

  “I know he wouldn’t.” She sighs. “Do you think he meant outta here as in to cool off? Or outta here as in moving out?”

  “Doesn’t matter. I’m not okay with him talking to you like that. I’m kicking him out, whether he likes it or not.”

  After loading the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher, she says; “But we need the rent.”

  “I plan on taking home some rodeo earnings this weekend. I’ll figure something out for the rest.”

  “The money isn’t the only issue.” She leans her elbows on the counter. “The three of you are friends and see each other in class and at rodeos. I would feel better if I could work it out with him, if you don’t mind.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “He can’t act that way around you.”

  “I agree. I’ll tell him it was out of line. But we should give him a chance to redeem himself. It’s not fair to have a one-strike policy. And I really don’t want to be the reason that your friendship ended with him.”

  I step closer and pull her in for a hug. BJ and I have always put up with Chuck’s tantrums, mostly because both of us can kick his ass if he steps too far out of line. But with Della in the house it’s not cool. Chuck needs to be accountable for his behaviour. Suffering the consequences is the only thing that even remotely has a chance of drilling through his rock-hard hillbilly head. “He’s the problem, not you. I’ll talk to him.”

  “If he’s ever really going to respect me, it would be better if he and I came to an agreement. Let me talk to him before you do anything. Please,” she says into my chest.

  “I’ll think about it.”

  During the drive to the rodeo in Oakdale, I made my decision. Chuck’s outburst was not acceptable, and my plan if he hasn’t already done it by the time we get home, is to pack up all his stuff and leave it on the front step. Unfortunately, we’re not going to get home anytime soon. On my final out, the horse’s hoof came down hard on the side of my knee after my ride. Now we’re sitting in emergency, waiting to be seen by a doctor. I had hoped it was only a hematoma, but the paramedic at the event insisted I needed to see a doctor.

  “Can I get you something from the vending machine?” Della asks.

  “I’m fine. Thanks.” I adjust the ice pack and then turn my head to wink at her. “Sorry you have to hang around waiting for me. I’m sure a hospital is the last place you want to be right now.”

  Her cheeks blush as she shakes her head to disagree.

  “What? You like waiting for hours in emergency?”

  “No. But I want to be where you are. And this is where you are.” She clasps her hands together and squeezes them between her knees. “So yeah, I’m happy.”

  I nudge her ribs with my elbow. “That’s a romantic thing to say.”

  “I know.” She swings her feet back and forth like a bored kid. “Weird, right? This whole day has been awful—waking up to someone with an anger management problem directed at me, then a terror-filled afternoon of witnessing what I thought was you being killed by a one-thousand pound animal in a manure-covered arena, and now an evening of torturously long wait times in an airless facility that smells not so faintly of urine and vomit—and there is nowhere else I’d rather be.”

  “It means you like me.”

  “Hmm.” She smiles and picks up a magazine to flip through the pages. “The question is, do you like me enough to overlook the facts that I single-handedly drove away one of your roommates with my inability to keep my mouth shut and somehow jinxed you with my presence into being stomped on by a vicious bucking horse that evidently despises people, th
us leaving you in dire financial straits and presumably a fair amount of pain?”

  “I’m a cowboy, I don’t know what pain is. A dose of the truth is exactly what Chuck needed, and you’re the only person who’s had the balls to give it to him. I still scored an eighty-seven on that ride. And my sense of smell is not that good because of all the concussions I’ve had, so the urine and vomit doesn’t bother me.” I lean over to kiss her neck and then whisper in her ear, “And in case you’re wondering, I more than like you.”

  Her head turns and her gaze locks with mine. It has seriously been a shit day and I don’t care because she’s with me. I want to sleep with her so badly right now. And even though she has never been with anyone before, I can tell she wants it, too.

  “Lewis. Easton Lewis.”

  “That’s you,” Della whispers without breaking eye contact with me.

  “Is it?” I wave to let the nurse know I heard her, but I don’t look away from Della.

  She nods to answer my question and her eyes shift to stare at my mouth, telegraphing her thoughts. “The faster you finish with the doctor the sooner we can get home. And, you know, share a goodnight kiss. Or more.”

  With that implied promise, I literally pop up on one leg and hop to meet the nurse who called my name. I don’t know how much Della’s ready for but getting home to find out is now my main goal.

  Della glances at me from across my truck cab as she drives us home. “You’ve been so quiet. What did the doctor say?”