7. Isabelle
CHAPTER SEVEN
isabelle
LAST MARCH: RODEOHOUSTON, HOUSTON, TX
T he bars in Houston were like they were every year during the rodeo—packed. Granted, they were busy year-round, but it seemed to be a once-a-year occurrence that people crowded downtown like sardines in a can.
“Remember last year when we were here?” I teased Ellison as we followed the boys into the Ace in the Hole Bar.
“I don’t think I need to be reminded, but yes.” She linked her arm with mine. It was, after all, this exact bar where she met Colter. “Hopefully, my fake cowboy bestie isn’t here.”
I couldn’t help myself. I let out a raucous laugh thinking about the guy Ellison almost clocked last year for trying to get her to put on his cowboy hat. “Don’t speak it into existence or it’ll come true.”
She lightly punched me in the arm. “I am not!”
“What’s goin’ on back there?” Colter looked over his shoulder at us, giving Ellison a quizzical look.
“Oh, Ellison was just saying she hopes this one guy isn’t here. You know, when you had first started seeing each other she told me about this dream she?—”
Before I could finish my sentence, Ellison had smacked the palm of her free hand over my mouth, causing my words to come out muffled.
“Nothing to see here! Ignore her.” She let out a nervous laugh as Colter raised his eyebrow, drawing attention from the rest of the guys. Once they had turned around again, she removed her hand from my mouth and gave me a death glare. “Look what you started,” she jokingly scolded me in a hushed tone. I knew she wasn’t mad at me; there was no mistaking the playful glint in her eye.
“You’ve never told him about that?” I asked, and when she shook her head so aggressively I thought she might give herself whiplash and mouthed, Not the specifics , I just grinned. “Now I know what to use as blackmail if I ever need something.”
She dropped her jaw. “You wouldn’t dare!”
“Maybe this is just what I need to get you out on the dance floor with me.” I winked and pulled her along, our arms still linked together.
Not much had changed from last year’s outing at the bar. The dance floor was still packed and the hardwood sticky from drinks spilled by people who got a little too drunk. Maybe it was weird, but I loved it. The DJ was still playing classic country, and the whole atmosphere gave off a party vibe. Everyone was happy, dancing, and enjoying themselves. Completely carefree, like they left all their inhibitions at the saloon-style doors.
We followed Colter, Reid, and the other guys to the bar.
“What can I start for y’all?” the bartender asked .
Mikey started counting heads. “One, two, three…seven shots of Pendleton!”
The bartender started nodding, but Ellison put a hand out to stop him. “Five shots of Pendleton and two shots of tequila.” She turned her head to Mikey. “Isa doesn’t do whiskey.”
“You got it.” The bartender nodded and got to work pouring the shots.
“No whiskey for you, eh?” Reid leaned on the bar next to me.
“Are you going to judge me for that, Cowboy? I know it’s like some kind of requirement for y’all,” I teased, playfully rolling my eyes.
“No, no. Not judging.” He put his hands up in surrender. “So, what do you drink then?”
“If you judge me, I’m going to leave.” I side-eyed him and then fully turned to face him. “My favorite is Malibu…I told you not to judge me!” I protested as he tried his best to hold back his laughter.
“I’m sorry, I just—” he chuckled, holding his chest with one hand as the other one rested on the bar top.
“Here’s those shots for y’all.” Our bartender saved me from my embarrassment, and I quickly grabbed my shot of tequila.
“Salt?” I looked across the bar.
“Here ya go, Short Stack.” Reid handed the shaker to me.
“Thanks.” I narrowed my eyes at him but accepted the salt, licking the top of my hand and shaking the salt onto it.
“All right, boys…and ladies.” Mikey cleared his throat. “Here’s to…uh. ”
“Damn, I’ve never heard him so tongue-tied with his toasts.” Jake chuckled.
“Shut up, man! Here’s to taking one of those fine ladies home tonight.” Mikey raised his glass and nodded toward a group of college girls, to which a couple of them started giggling and whispering to each other after making eye contact with the bull rider.
A chorus of, “I’m not toasting to that shit,” and, “You’ve got to be kidding me,” and groans circulated around our little circle.
“Fine, then. Hayden, you come up with something better.” Mikey pointed his whole hand at him.
“Oh, uh.” You’d think Hayden was sunburnt, his face turned so red.
“Here’s to drinking my damn shot and not having to hear Mikey try to come up with any more toasts!” Ellison raised her shot glass, and the rest of the boys hollered and threw back their shots. I took my shot, albeit a lot slower, and chased it with a lime.
That was the difference between me and Ellison. She took her shots like a champ, no chaser needed. I was more like the girl in the Carrie Underwood song. But I’d happily sip on my fruity cocktails instead of choking down a drink that tasted like nail polish remover.
“Not a tequila girl either?” Reid nudged me with his elbow after I stopped sucking on my lime slice.
“I’m not sure how she can drink it straight. I’m actually dying right now.”
He threw his head back laughing, like what I’d said was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. “Ellison’s a tough one, that’s for sure.”
“She’s just stubborn. ”
“You talkin’ about me over there?” Ellison interrupted us.
“All good things, don’t worry.” Reid waved her off.
“Bullshit.” She laughed before Colter pulled her out onto the dance floor as a George Strait song came on.
“You dance?” Reid asked, offering me his hand.
“Depends on who’s asking.” I looked up at him.
“Me. I’m asking.”
I grinned at the confidence radiating off him. “All right, then. Show me what you’ve got.” I took his hand, and he walked us over to the floor. I put my hands in his, the rough calluses on his fingers brushing against the smooth skin of my palms as he pulled me close and then pushed away, like the tightening of a rubber band.
I looked into his eyes, watching him as he led me through the steps, spinning me every so often, getting into the rhythm of the song.
“You’re not too bad a dancer,” I joked when he pulled me close to him, starting the pattern of pulling and pushing again.
“Not too bad ?” He feigned offense.
That time when he spun me out, he pulled me back in so I was wrapped up in his arms. I inhaled, breathing in the scent of him, a woodsy citrus that reminded me of summer days spent on the coast. He held me there—a split second too long—before spinning me out again and pulling me back in, ending the move in a dip.
Our eyes met, and I swore the right side of his mouth curled up in a grin.
But the moment was over too quickly, and then I was upright and we were moving into the same phase again. It was a routine—a predictable pattern—yet we had a connection that allowed us to flow like how wind moves through the trees or ocean waves meet the shore.
When the song ended, he pulled me close, whispering into my hair, “Thanks, Isa.” Then we were walking off the floor, back to the bar where Mikey, Hayden, and Jake were standing.
Maybe it’s cliche, but for a moment, when we were dancing, I forgot anyone else was out on the floor. It didn’t matter that there were couples all around, trying not to bump into us. Normally, I would be very aware of other people dancing, mostly to not get elbowed in the face or stepped on. But out on that floor, it was just me and Reid, a fantasy I thought only happened in romance books.
“Folks, the time you’ve all been waiting for has come. It’s Championship night!” The lights of the arena dimmed as spotlights danced across the dirt.
Ellison and I sat together in the grandstands, waiting to see Colter, Reid, Mikey, Jake, and Hayden compete. They’d all made it this year, a respectable accomplishment, as they were among some of the best in the world.
Granted, all of them except Hayden had made it the year prior, but it was still something to be proud of. And damn, were Ellison and I proud of our boys.
Jake had made it in the tie-down roping, and his final time for tonight was eleven-point-three. Hayden competed with a random partner in team roping, and they clocked in at six-point-seven for the night. Neither of their times were bad, especially so early in the year, but they weren’t enough to put them in the winning slot.
“Ladies and gentlemen, our next team roping duo comes all the way from up north. They were your RodeoHouston team roping champions last year and NFR Average champions,” the announcer’s voice started in a low rumble. “Let’s give them a big welcome! Colter Carson and Reid Lawson, folks!”
Rock music began playing out of the speakers as Colter and Reid entered the boxes on the sides of the roping chute. They wouldn’t be able to see us from our spot in the stands—we could hardly make them out—but I watched Reid’s expression on the jumbo screen as it morphed from relaxed and casual to a trained focus.
Is it hot in here? Warmth crept up my cheeks as I watched him toss his rope over his shoulder, prepping for their run, the brim of his cowboy hat covering his eyes.
Colter nodded, and the steer was released from the chute. Team roping was fast , but I was absolutely engrossed in every second of it as Colter roped the horns of the steer and Reid followed, roping the legs perfectly.
“Now, that’s how it’s done, folks!” the announcer called out. “Four-point-eight seconds for Colter Carson and Reid Lawson!”
“Let’s go find the guys.” Ellison grabbed my hand after the bull riding and buckle presentation was over. “I saw you watching the screen when Colt and Reid were roping. You should tell him how you feel.”
“W-what do you mean?” I almost stumbled walking down the stairs.
“Please. I have eyes. I saw you guys dancing at the bar the other night,” she commented when we got closer to the arena floor where the guys said they’d wait for us.
“I don’t know, Ells. All I’ve ever been is hurt and?—”
“Guys, seriously. We’re just friends, nothing more. There’s absolutely nothing there.” A familiar voice rang through my ears, the tone edging on annoyance. “She’s great, but no. Isabelle and I aren’t going to be together.”
We came around the corner, and there was Reid, rolling his eyes at the guys, arms crossed leaned up against a gate.
He whipped his head toward me, and a sadness that looked a lot like regret crept into his eyes. “Is?—”
“Yeah, no. We’re just friends. I can’t believe you guys ever thought there was anything more to it.” I forced out a laugh before biting the inside of my cheek until the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. It was all I could do to stop the tears from welling in my eyes.
I thought we had a connection, that the other night in the bar wasn’t just my imagination and he felt something too.
But I was clearly wrong.
I usually was, and that’s what led to my heart always getting hurt.
The guys all nodded, seemingly forgetting the entire conversation. And just like that, the fantasy I’d made up in my head—one that guaranteed me a happily ever after like the ones in the books I’d always loved—shattered in front of me.
I truly believed in love and happy endings, but a new fear rose in me that day: fear that maybe I was always meant to be alone.