10. Jamieson
ten
Jamieson
“ T his has to be one of the cutest towns I’ve ever visited. Don’t you think, Griff?”
He’s still eating candy from the cool retro candy store we found earlier. I think that’s all he needs to make this trip a success. Unlimited penny candy in a brown paper bag. It definitely made him smile more today.
The dark circles under his eyes concern me. I don’t want to pry and be all up in his face like a mother hen, but I’m positive his arm hurts more than he’s letting on.
“It’s definitely cute. I really want to try that burger place we saw earlier for supper, but I don’t know if I have room for food. I ate a lot of candy today.”
Griff frowns into the tiny brown paper bag, and I peek over his shoulder. “You ate the whole thing?”
He clutches the mostly empty bag to his chest with a half-laugh.
“Don’t be so judgy! You ate that giant cookie from the bakery and candy.”
“This is true.” I laugh. “But I’m still a bottomless pit, remember? ”
We amble along the sidewalk again. The crowds from the Pride celebrations show no signs of slowing down, and I tug at Griff to stop at a face painting booth.
“There’s nobody in line now. Let’s do it.”
Griff rolls his eyes, but I know he wants to. That little half smile of his is a dead giveaway.
“Hey fellas.” A young woman with the brightest purple hair I’ve ever seen gestures to the single chair across from her. “Who’s first, and what do you want? Rainbows, glitter, unicorn? A slogan or flag?”
I sit first since it was my idea, and I look at all her offerings on the table.
“Can I get a bi flag and something cowboy-ish?”
She taps her lips with a red-polished fingertip before reaching for her face paint. “How about a rainbow horseshoe next to the bisexual flag?”
“Perfect!”
As the woman gets to work with her art on my cheek, Griff watches from behind her, and I swallow the lump that’s lodged in my throat since I sat at the hospital with him. I thought it was a fear of losing my best friend, but even after the doctor assured me he wasn’t near death’s door from a broken bone, it didn’t go away.
It didn’t go away when I buckled him in my truck to take us on this vacation, and it didn’t go away after we sort of cleared the air over the only fight we’ve ever had that happened over a year ago.
And now it’s still there when I watch Griff shove the last cherry twist from his candy bag into his mouth as he watches the girl paint my face.
“You look awesome, Jamie. That horseshoe is cool. ”
“Do you know what you want, sugar? He’s almost done.”
Griff nods with a giant grin.
“Yep. I want the gayest flag with glitter.”
I burst out laughing as the woman hands me a mirror to see her work. “Glitter? For real?”
“Yep.” Griff bumps me with a hip to get me out of the chair and sits in front of the woman, who opens her glitter pot with glee. “I’ve always wanted to get glittered up for Pride. In university, they didn’t have big festivals, and then we’re often busy with rodeo and miss all the parades and festivals. This is the first time I get to glitter.”
“Well, I’m so happy for you! And I’m so honoured I get to be your first.”
Griff’s ears get a little pink, and I watch as she paints the flag on his cheek and smooths glitter over the top of it. She does the same design on both his cheeks and then paints a stripe of red glitter paint up his cheek and under each flag when she’s done.
“Take a look.” She hands him the mirror, and Griff’s smile is the brightest I’ve ever seen.
“This is…” His eyes catch mine in a flash, and that lump comes back. “This is amazing. Thank you.”
Griff drops a donation into the jar the woman has out for the local LGBTQ+ youth shelter, and I do the same before we spill back out into the masses of people out celebrating.
Stuffing my hands in my pockets so I don’t scratch at the face paint, we keep walking until we reach the intersection. While we wait for the light to cross the street, a poster in a shop window catches my eye.
“Oh my god! Griff! Look at this. We have to go. ”
A bright neon poster exclaims the Cowboy Olympics are on at the Burgatory from 6 to 10 P.M. as part of the Pride celebrations. They even have Jell-O shots on the menu.
Griff laughs before pulling out his phone and punching in the address to Google Maps. “Jell-O shots make my stomach turn. That’s one memory I’d like to leave at university.” He looks up at the street signs and back at his phone. “It’s the next street over, and I said earlier I should get a burger. Do you really want to go when we’re supposed to be away from rodeo?”
“Of course! It’s a blast from the past. Jell-O shots, cowboy games, and rainbows. And food! Can’t forget the food.” Griff laughs as we walk towards the next street. “Food first. I’m starving, and you should get something other than sugar in you.”
“Okay, okay. I’m convinced.”
Throwing my arm around Griff’s shoulder, I hug him close. “I know we go to bars a lot when we’re touring, but…this is different. I’d love a good techno dance night, you know? Where we can just dance and not be fawned over for belt buckles.”
Well.
I haven’t even started drinking, and that truth sort of slithered out. Griff doesn’t say anything, just quirks an eyebrow.
“Does that bother you? Your groupies? Because you have them. You know that, right?”
“I mean, yeah, I know. I recognize faces in the bars, even though it’s a different town. They’re out there, but it would be nice to just switch off for once and just be me and not a bull rider.”
We walk in silence because it’s the first time I’ve said that out loud and acknowledged it myself. My alcohol tolerance is shit and I like to party with my friends, but there’s always an expectation. Bull riders are the draw of any rodeo. It’s a sexy and dangerous sport. The bar scene is how I burn off the excitement from a ride. It’s like I have a huge adrenaline dump that takes hours to go away.
Inevitably, the buckle bunnies find you while you’re there. Men and women. I prefer women, but there’s been the odd man I didn’t turn down. All of them were just part of scratching the itch and living up to the wild cowboy image.
A group of shirtless young men with their arms linked together sing as they march down the sidewalk, confident and carefree. I envy that.
“Hey, Jamie. You okay?”
Forcing a smile, I nod.
“Never better, Griff. Well, not true. I’ll be better once we eat.”
The sign for the Burgatory comes into view, and my stomach growls like it knows there’s food nearby. Griff’s face lights up as he laughs and smacks me across the stomach.
“I swear your stomach is its own person. Let’s eat and see what the Cowboy Olympics are about.”
“I like your plan.” Opening the door to the restaurant for Griff, we step inside, and I know he feels the same thing I do. When I look over, Griff has this faraway look as his gaze bounces all over the place.
“Oh my god, Jamie. It’s just like the pub on campus. This is wild.”
The only thing missing is the stage for bands and the colours of our university, but the whole aesthetic is so damn accurate it’s like walking into a time machine.
“Hey, guys. Table for two?”
An older man in a tight plaid shirt, form-fitting Wranglers, and a smile that could melt the polar ice caps greets us. He’s…very attractive.
“Please.” Griff returns the smile and lingers on the man’s face. That lump in my throat comes back, and I throw my arm over his shoulders.
“Near the action, please. We plan to be here for a while.”
“Cowboy Olympics is…not at all what I expected.”
Griff bends over, wheezing, after we went outside to run a hay bale relay. We didn’t win, and I’m a little embarrassed about that.
“Who the fuck runs with hay bales?!”
Thankfully, it’s the last event of the Olympics. An Olympics made to make us thirsty and order more beer and Jell-O shots…and possibly kill us.
We threw hay bales over high jump bars, ran an obstacle course with a wheelbarrow and then ran a race with a god damn hay bale. My shoulders scream louder than after a bull ride, and Griff is still wheeze-laughing.
“We can’t tell Hunter about this. Or Jackson! They’d never let us hear the end of it. Promise me, Griff.”
Those two would probably challenge us to the same events just to prove they’re more fit than two guys a decade younger than them.
“My arms are still on fire, Jamie. We should be in better shape than this.” Griff laughs and I move in to massage his arms. A few times in university, we’d overdo it in the weight room and Griff would get these crazy muscle spasms. He’d sometimes drink pickle juice to help, which is completely disgusting, but my fingers are magic and smell better than pickle juice.
“Here,” I motion for him to step closer, and he steps up, resting his head on my shoulder as I massage his biceps through his shirt. “Is it getting better?”
“ Mhmm ,” Griff sighs into my shoulder. “Much better.”
“How’s your arm? You probably shouldn’t have been doing all that with a cast on.”
Griff steps back, but my hand still massages the biceps of the broken arm. “It hurts. I won’t lie and say it’s fine. It’s probably not the smartest thing I’ve ever done, but it was worth it.”
Despite my concern that he overdid it, I grin back. “Totally.”
The atmosphere in the bar has switched to a dance party. Strobe lights and flashing drink cups light up the dance floor as dance beats vibrate under our feet. Most of the current dancers are younger, in their early 20s, or perhaps even some with fake IDs and are teenagers. I don’t judge them on that. We all do things to be a part of the crowd we want to run with, and it’s not always the right thing, but it sure is fun.
Griff sways his hips to the dance music, and it reminds me of the time we went to a rainbow night at the campus pub. Griff was always the most relaxed on those nights. He always walked with a shield, and his smiles didn’t come as easily…unless he was with me, I noticed.
Those nights with the dance music and sweaty bodies with no eyes passing judgement were when Griff was the most Griff-like. My best friend wasn’t always a force in the bull riding ring with a stern face and an almost super-vigilant stance. He had a laugh that was infectious and dance moves that should remain private. Griff could have even the quietest mouse in the corner talking because he was that personable.
It’s a side of him I’ve not seen in years, and I wonder if he knows it’s been that long.
He points to the backdrop in the corner where two guys attempt a choreographed dance against the logo for a popular social media platform.
“Do you think it’s a new dance challenge? I’m never up on the stuff that’s going around.”
Snorting, I wave down the waitress walking by with beer in buckets of ice and grab two before pushing bills and a large tip into her hand.
“You want to try it, don’t you?”
Griff tilts his hand back and forth as he sways to the music and attempts one of the dance moves the other two are doing. He almost falls over and drops his beer.
Cackling, I take his bottle and set it aside as he scowls. “Knock yourself out and practice. I’ll wing it if you want to try.”
Griff just smiles and wiggles to the music. And then backs into the girl behind him.
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” He places a hand on her arm. “Are you okay?”
She just smiles and pulls him closer to me. “I’m fine. I’ve been watching you two, and I need your help.”
Griff and I exchange a glance, and he shrugs.
“So, what do you need help with?” I ask. I’m positive it’s about the dance thing, and I can practically see the yes coming off Griff’s lips before she even asks.
The girl blushes and turns to Griff. “Um, I’m scared to tell my best friend I like her more than a friend. But there’s this video challenge where you sort of surprise them with a kiss and see their reaction. I think it’s the easiest way for me to tell her because I’m not fantastic at words.”
Griff’s eyes widen, and he stares at the girl. “Do you think she likes you? Aren’t you afraid of fucking up the friendship if you know…if you just kiss her like that?”
The girl shrugs a shoulder with a small smile. “I think she might feel the same. But if she doesn’t, we’re solid. I’ll get over it, and it will be awkward, but I’ll have taken the chance. I don’t want to wait, and this is the perfect time, but I’m not good with words and…I just…fuck, I’m nervous, you know. Like I want to kiss her so bad but…”
I jump in since Griff seems to be at a loss for words.
“Show us the video and we can do a practice run.”
“Oh my god, that would be amazing!” She pulls up a video on her phone, chattering the whole time like she’s known us forever. How can she be shy with her crush and so chatty with us? She shows us a few different attempts, and we agree that the one where she sings a line of a song and then leans in to kiss her is the best.
“Here. We can practice it.” I pull Griff over and notice the paleness of his cheeks. “Hey, you okay? ”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” He smiles at the girl. “What song is it?”
“Doesn’t matter.” I wave her off. “We’re just lip syncing, anyway. We don’t even have to kiss.” I whisper so the girl can’t hear. “Just pretend so she gains confidence, Griff.”
“Right. Okay.”
Griff and I mimic the dance move, and when we face each other for the confession and kiss part, Griff steps up and takes my face in his hands. He leans in and doesn’t pause. His lips press against mine softly with a breathy sigh. And again. On the third time, I don’t let him pull away and circle my arms around his waist, pulling him closer and kissing him back. God, he tastes like the cherry twists he ate earlier and lemon Jell-O. That’s so perfect for him. Sweet with a bit of bite when needed.
And now I’m kissing Griff.
Griff presses against me with a strangled cry. His fingers slide into my hair, curling tightly as he keeps kissing me. His tongue pushes past my lips and slides against mine with a reverent hunger that short-circuits my brain. My mouth doesn’t want to leave his because this kiss is by far one of the best I’ve ever had, and I really like cherry twists. When we finally break apart with swollen lips and heaving chests, I don’t know what to say.
“Um, guys? Thanks for your help, but I think I’ll just leave you. Thank you!”
“Hey, sorry…good luck.” But the girl has already disappeared into the crowd.
My thoughts scatter like dandelion fluff and Griff looks like he wants to throw up. It wasn’t that bad of a kiss, was it?
“So…on a scale of one to ten, how do I kiss?” My voice isn’t as calm as I hoped, and I swallow the lump that’d returned .
Griff cracks a small smile. “Eleven.”
“Nice.” My mouth can’t work because I’m staring at Griff in a whole new way. And I want to kiss him again. “Um…Do you —”
“Can we just get out of here? Please?”
“Whatever you need, Griff.”
Without another word, he weaves his way through the bar while I follow him.
My best friend just kissed me…and I liked it. I liked it a whole damn lot.
Kissing Griff was not on my list of things to do on this trip.