Page 12 of The Cowboy's Cabaret

“I’m just saying…He’s all heart eyes for you. Wes’ got a whole life and responsibilities on the farm. I don’t want him slacking off because of you.”

Crossing my arms, I face him. “I’m not too sure how any of that is my problem. We’re friends and I’ve got my own life and responsibilities too, so I’d appreciate it if you minded your own business. If you have a problem, you can take it up with Wes.” I’ve had enough of this conversation and decide to head back to my room. Jasper looks like he’s going to say something, opening and closing his mouth like a fucking fish, before ultimately keeping quiet.

Fernando accompanies me in my self-loathing as I burrow in my blankets until Daphne shouts they’re back. I head to grab my sandwich and sit on the farthest side of the tiny living room from Wesley. For my sanity and Jasper’s deep concern for Wes’ well-being, we need to nip this little crush situation in the bud.

After eating, Wesley’s eyes catch mine and he nods to the kitchenette area, grabbing some of our takeout trash. I snag the empty coffee cups and follow.

“I had a lot of fun last night. You’re a hell of a dancer. I can see why the crowd loves you so much,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

I’m playing with the hem of my shirt and regretting making eye contact with him, as his brown eyes feel like they’re searing every inch of me.

“I’d definitely come to another. Dancing isn’t something I ever do. I’m not really at the club shaking ass these days.” He laughs. “You were…it was”—he takes a breath to collect himself—“it was hot. But I’d hate to make you uncomfortable if I overstepped at all.” His worried look pins me in place, I feel the heat rising on my cheeks, and I’m willing my mouth to literally make any single sound.

He leans back against my shitty, peeling formica countertop, his white tank top stretching against his hard chest—arousal and panic take equal hold in me.

Wes fumbles for words. “Sorry, um, what I’m trying to say…I would love to take you out sometime, you and I.”

The nerves in my stomach are a maelstrom as I think of a casual way to saymy untreated anxiety is ruining my life and I’m fully convinced you’ll see beyond the facade and not like what you find.

“Totally. Totally…” I look away trailing off, because I’m about to lie through my teeth. “I love to dance and we were just being silly right? I think you’re great, truly. I have a lot to balance with school and working. I don’t know if I can offer anyone anything more than sub-par friendship.” I hope he can hear the apology in my voice, because I really do want more, with him specifically.

“I respect that. I’ll be in your life, in whatever way you allow. Plus, who knows maybe you can use me as a case study for emotionally stunted bearded men?” This easy joking and sense of comfort is what makes Wes so great and this friendship so dangerous.

I lean in to shove him and he grabs me for a side hug. “You’re hot, I’m hot. It only makes sense for us to be hot friends. I need someone to go to shows with, since Jasper hates crowds ninety-nine percent of the time. You’re the perfect concert buddy.” Fuck my life.

After a dayof loafing about and watching corny slasher movies, Wes and Jasper pack up to head out. Jasper is seemingly kinder to me than he was during hisI gotta protect the farm and Wesley tirade for the rest of the day.He nods his thanks and for a brief moment, he stares down Daphne. She blows him a kiss and immediately follows it up with a middle finger, to which he turns on his heel and immediately heads downstairs.

“Let me know about the show next week. The tickets aren’t bad and I heard their sets are killer.” Wes reminds me of our earlier conversation about heading to a show in Jersey.

“Definitely. As long as I can get some sort of direction on where my thesis is headed, I’m down.” Wes shrugs his duffle over his shoulder to leave.

Though I seemingly drew a line in the sand regarding our relationship, I throw my arms around him anyway. His surprised grunt quickly morphs into a soft laugh as he wraps me in a tight hug. “Bye,” I say, far too breathy for a platonic goodbye.

I shut the door and turn to find Daphne nearly up my ass. “Friends. Friends!” She grabs my shoulders and guides me to the futon.

I’m irritated, but I also saw this coming because Daphne is like an evil, all-seeing owl. Perhaps an evil rooster, because while she does impart wisdom upon you, she does so in a really obnoxious way. “I fully support you being more than friends,and it seems he does too. So why did I overhear you shutting it down?”

“Is there anything you don’t know, nosy bitch? You know why. Our judgment was clouded with too many Cowboy Cocksuckers. It happens. All is well now and we’re back on even footing.”

“For now.” She stands dusting her hands of my nonsense. “Well, I’ll leave you to it, since it seems you’ve got it all sorted out. I’m meeting up with Jade for drinks tonight, since she’s back in town. I’d invite you, but I’m low-key hoping it is, or will be, a date.” She wiggles her eyebrows before planting a loud, wet kiss on my forehead.

Damn, well at least one of us may have some romance after all. “Ugh, well at least if you date Jade, I’ll be the best friend of a rock star’s girlfriend.” I smash my face into the unsuspecting pillow and enjoy a pity party of one for the rest of the night.

NINE

plausible deniability

Wesley

Jasperand I fall into the same shit routine we’ve got at home, like we have in the weeks since our trip to Brooklyn to see Dahlia. Wake up, fuck off around the farm, and head to our respective cabins on either side of the main house at the end of the day. I always wanted my own space and this cabin became my private oasis—the first place wholly mine. It’s meant to house more ranch hands, so it’s decent sized; three beds, two baths and a nice ass kitchen.

Jasper claimed his cabin on the far side of the property, a bigger version of mine. Jasper’s parents and his sister, Amber, stay in the main house still. Amber’s two sons, my crazy nephews, share my old room. Amber’s dick of a husband lives there too. Sometimes. I don’t know the full story there, but I know Amber feels stuck. Jas and I are waiting for the fucker to really slip up and earn the ass beating he deserves.

The slam of my screen door is the clock out of my time as a farmer. I shower, make a sandwich, and change gears for the second part of my day. This is the part where I indulge myartistic urges and create. My secret hobby, one I protect under lock and key, is my favorite way to unwind.

I started drawing young, mostly because crayons were cheap at the dollar store. As I got older, I would draw scenes of a different life for me—a wizard coming to save me or a version of myself with huge muscles to protect myself. Sad shit for a kid to be doodling, but I did it enough to get pretty good. I keep it to myself though.

Dad hated it and said it was a waste of time, a girly hobby. Yet another bizarre thing to hurt your child over, but what do I know? The kids at school thought I was a freak when I was caught drawing during middle school, apparently angry zombies and sad monsters were weird. I got tired of defending myself constantly, so I had to play offense.