42. Stetson
FORTY-TWO
STETSON
June 29th, 2024
Stomping my foot, a small screech tearing from my lips, I throw the bobby pin into the sink. It’s no fucking use, anyway. My hair has always had a mind of its own and I don’t know why tonight I thought it would be different. Small blonde curls stick up and around the bun I’m desperately trying to pin down—I’m about ready to shave it all off.
A low whistle sounds behind me, and I freeze. Every cell in my body becomes hyper-aware of the man standing in the doorway. I catch his reflection in the mirror and nearly swoon like a stupid teenage girl. We’ve been living together now as girlfriend and boyfriend—although that terminology does not even begin to describe us—for almost a month, and seeing him cleaned up still takes my breath away. To be fair, I think seeing him dirty, clean, dressed or naked will always take my breath away.
His dark hair is freshly washed, the curls shiny and soft as they neatly rest around his tan chiseled face, layered in dark stubble. He’s wearing a pale yellow button-up shirt with silver pearl snaps down the front, tucked into dark pressed jeans, all tied together with a shiny silver and gold buckle at his middle, just above his zipper. I can’t stop myself from tracing the outline of what I know is beneath that zipper before trailing back up to his face. Dark eyes bore into mine through the glass and a shiver snakes down my spine.
“Careful, baby. I don’t give a fuck about being late or messing up your hair. But based on that little temper tantrum I just witnessed, I’d guess you would care.” His words are husky and full of longing, making my toes curl in response. I smile coyly back at him through the glass, batting my eyelashes. Before I can respond, Gus pushes off the frame of the door and moves to stand directly behind me, his hands gripping my hips.
“Do not test me,” he threatens, and I know I shouldn’t.
But fuck, I want to.
“Sorry,” I squeak, but we both know I’m not. His face softens a fraction, running his hands up and down my exposed arms, his calluses rough against my skin. Closing my eyes, I lean back into his solid frame.
“You look so damn beautiful it hurts.” His breath fans over my neck. “Open your eyes and look at how beautiful you are, Stetson.”
I did soft makeup for tonight, mainly blush and thick mascara, and I have to admit it does make me look pretty. My pouty lips are as pink as ever, shining with the thick gloss I just put on them. The denim dress I chose for this, one I ordered online special for this occasion, is strapless, held together with buttons all the way to the bottom, where it cuts off just below my knees. I haven’t decided what shoes to wear just yet, but I do like the rest of my outfit. And I like my makeup. It’s the pile of messy blonde curls that I’m trying to style that’s upsetting the whole look.
My eyes flick up to Gus’s, who are so full of heat and desire I have to look away. It’s intimidating to be so seen. He leans in, his lips brushing my ear .
“Absolutely breathtaking.” He places a gentle kiss on my exposed shoulder.
“What if I shaved off my hair? Would you still think I was beautiful?” It’s a joke, but the words lack the teasing tone—instead, they sound hollow and uncertain.
He chuckles, never lifting his face from the crook of my neck, and the movement causes his facial scruff to send a delicious wave of goosebumps over my skin. Gus’s eyes snap up to mine in the mirror, his face devoid of any teasing. His lips brush against my pebbled skin as he breathes me in. “Don’t you understand, Stetson? I have seen you—every beautiful, heartbroken, beaten and abused, strong and magnificent version. There is nothing you could do or say that would make you any less gorgeous to me.”
I stare at his dark eyes, lost for words.
He smiles then, a wicked tip of his perfect mouth against my skin, and his left hand snakes up my back, along the column of my neck, and lands at the base of my scalp. “You’d be the most breathtaking badass with short hair. I’ll worship the ground you walk on. But I wouldn’t be able to do this, and I think you’d miss it more than me even.” Before I can fully register what his wicked words mean, his fingers grip my hair, yanking my head back with a painful pull.
Painful, and yet deliciously not painful.
His teeth sink into the crook between my shoulder and neck, another point of pain and pleasure sending waves of arousal coursing through my veins. His teeth bruising against my soft flesh, his tongue following the bite—soft and loving over the mark.
A mark. He wants to mark me. And I hate to admit how badly I want to be marked by him, claimed by him. To be his.
He releases his hold on my head, my eyes boring into his through the mirror. My face is flushed a deep crimson, pink staining up my neck and over his mark. He smiles wickedly back at me, and shrugs, stepping back and brushing an imaginary speck of dust off his shirt.
“Wear your hair up, down, or shave it, baby. I don’t care. The choice is up to you.” He winks and walks out of the bathroom.
I look back at the mirror, my chest heaving against the top of my dress, the mark on my neck cherry red, and I know the only way to cover it up would be to wear my hair down. He’s testing me—to see if I will run and hide as I have done before.
I don’t want to hide anymore.
So, with a deep sigh, and a hairdo I loathe, I flick the light off in the bathroom and head out to the small town ball with My Beast .
“Hey!” Dale squeezes my elbow with a loving pinch, as she rushes by in a deep blue flowing sundress. It is the most dressed up I have ever seen her, a new facet to the country charm that is being the small-town agriculture teacher. Dale has her impossibly long hair loose in thick waves around her body, shining in the harsh lights of the sales barn. Her signature dark makeup is on, and I note the great detail put into making the lines perfect on her round, tan face.
I wish she didn’t feel the need to always present the perfect mask I know she wears. It has to be a heavy burden, and part of me grieves the fact that she does not yet trust me enough to see beneath it. I am grateful to even be a part of her life and light, but I want more. I’m greedy that way.
Only, is that even greedy? I share so much of myself with her; I feel like she should do the same. That’s the right of a best friend, isn’t it?
“Dale—” She looks nervous and fidgety, her eyes darting around the room like a doe in a den of lions, and I ache to comfort her. Everyone here loves her; I’ve seen the way parents and kids look at her with awe and adoration. Surely she knows that, right? I shoot her a small smile and place a reassuring hand on hers that still grips my elbow, now almost painfully. “You okay?”
She jolts. “Oh, yeah! Just ready for this to be over.” Dale shoots me a full-watt smile, but it lacks its usual luster. I will ask her about this, about what is bothering her, but not right now. Tonight does not feel like the right time; she has a talent of making it always feel like not the right time to unburden herself. And that in itself is heartbreaking.
I will do better. She deserves better.
Deciding to be encouraging for now, as to not scare her off, I smile wider at her. “You look beautiful.”
“Girl, so do you! I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a dress! Or with a hickey. I like it, though. It really suits your porn star lips.” My mouth drops open—that was untrue—at least, the part about the dress. Judgemental eyes turn to us, their glares searing through my skin as they always do, but Dale doesn’t even seem to notice. She’s looking around me, her dark eyes still scanning the room.
She squeezes my elbow once more before dropping her hand. Blowing out a shaky breath, her eyes widen for a second before she looks away, a dark stain splattering across her cheeks. But before I can say anything—I’m sure because she knows I will—she’s walking away, waving over her shoulder. “I gotta go round up more kids. Enjoy dinner and the auction.”
Rolling my eyes, I slump into the chair behind me with a huff. I feel so defeated when it comes to Dale, especially because she has come to know almost every dark thing about me. The scale is wildly unbalanced, the uneven weight making me feel unsteady in my role as her friend.
“Love you!” Dale blows a mocking kiss at me, and then skirts away in a cloud of navy and silky black waves.
“I’ve always liked her,” Gus jokes, sinking into the chair next to me. I reach up to cover the mark, now like a brand on my neck.
“I know,” I hiss. Gus’s fingers interlace with my own, tugging my hand down into his lap.
“You look even more beautiful with my mark on you for everyone to see. Who gives a fuck what they think? I’d bend you over this table and fuck you senseless if you wanted.”
Gus’s filthy words send a hot bolt to my core, and I whirl on him, pinching his arm through his shirt.
“This is a kids’ event!”
He responds with a boyish grin, and I annoyingly press my thighs together, unable to control myself. He is too fucking hot with that smile and dark curls framing his face.
I’m such a goner.
“They’re Ag kids. They’ve seen plenty of animals do it.”
“Gus!” I whine, but he places a tender kiss on my bruised neck without acknowledging my discomfort.
“Do you mind if we sit with you?” A girl’s voice sounds to my left, and I hesitantly turn toward her. A petite girl, no taller than five-four, stands with a pale hand resting on the back of the chair next to me. Her ashy auburn hair is piled into a tight, slicked bun atop of her head, and she’s wearing no makeup, but a deep pink blush stains across her high cheeks and nose, just below a pair of warm golden-green eyes.
Besides Dale, I’ve never been good at talking to girls. People in this town are rarely genuinely nice. But something about this one only shoots up green flags in my mind, and I can’t help but like the idea of another friendly face. The girl’s eyes flick down to her hand on the empty chair and back to my face nervously, drawing her thin lip in between her teeth. Not wanting to scare her off, I nod. She shoots me a small smile before sliding her thin frame into the plastic chair; she’s all dainty and poised, like a dancer, and I silently wonder what she’s doing in a dusty town like this.
“I’m Faith,” the girl squeaks. What a typical Southern name .
I stick out my hand, and the girl quickly places her delicate one in mine. “Uhm, Stetson. And this is Gus.” I don’t even turn to point to the man behind me—I can feel him leaning around me, his chuckle a brush of air across my shoulders.
“Yes, I know!” My stomach flops. Of course, this was just another girl from town who knows everything about me. I release Faith’s hand, and she scoots a fraction closer to me with a growing smile. “You’re rebuilding your parent’s ranch, right? I’ve been gone a long time, but my little sister, she’s an Agriculture student here, she says that Dale talks so fondly of you and how hard-working and inspirational you are.” Faith waves her hands animatedly, her enthusiasm seeming real, and I honestly don’t know what to make of it.
“I admire the hell out of you!” she whisper-shouts, her golden eyes glittering. “I will soon inherit a place around here, and I haven’t decided if I’m brave enough to move back. Everyone in town can be so awful, especially if you move away and try to better yourself or see the world. I don’t know if I will be brave enough to do what you’re doing.”
I’m staring at her, several heartbeats passing between us. “Yeah, it’s been pretty hard,” I say, hating how brittle my voice sounds.
“Hard? Girl, don’t lie! I used to live here, too. It’s near impossible, and you’re a fucking rockstar!” Faith’s small hands shoot up in double thumbs up, and I can’t hold back the bark of laughter that tears from my lips. Hearing the girl cuss is like watching a kitten hissing; I’d be lying if I didn’t say her enthusiasm was contagious. The girl’s smile widens, obviously pleased with my reaction.
“Room for one more?” That familiar smooth voice fills the space near Gus, and I can feel him stiffen.
I turn, taking in the pristine image that is Mateo—dark suit jacket, starched white shirt and dark jeans, shining black boots, slicked back black hair and miles of clean-shaven, tanned skin running along his jaw, down his neck, to his chest that is exposed by, not one, but two, too many undone buttons. He’s a walking sex symbol—wealth and power—and looks terribly out of place in the old sale barn of Moztecha, Texas.
I love Gus—still too much of a chicken to tell him, but I do, I promise—but Mateo does something weird to my tongue. Makes it stop working. And that never fails to piss Gus off, like right now. He huffs, shifting his arm, and extending it to Mateo to signal for him to sit.
Now I know why Dale got all wide-eyed and ran away from our table.
Finding my voice, albeit squeaky, I lean in. “Dale didn’t tell me you were coming. Got away from the empire for the night?” I watch Mateo’s chocolate eyes sparkle, the wheels turning in his brain almost as loud as my own. He finally shoots me a small smile, but not before looking at Gus first, and regrettably, down at my neck.
“Uh, yeah. I told her I wouldn’t miss it, but I don’t think she believed me. She has a habit of thinking people don’t need to show up for her the way she does for them.” He nods, contemplating his words as he says them, and then pulls out his phone to silence an incoming call. He’s extremely observant, and I think extremely enamored with Dale .
Does she know just how obsessed he is with her? I know obsession when I see it—I’ve had plenty of practice over the last couple months.
I have half a mind to ask him, emboldened by my newfound bravery when it comes to my own self-discovery, when another familiar voice fills our space—this one far less welcome.
“Faith?” My neck snaps around to find Nathan standing on the other side of the table. Gus’s hand grips my knee in a vicious clamp, and I bite my tongue to keep from yelping in surprise. Nathan doesn’t even seem to notice us, though, his eyes hungrily taking in the petite girl sitting next to me. A blinding smile overtakes his boyish face, the motion causing dimples to make their appearance on both sides of his lips.
I watch Faith with unmasked shock on my face, but instead of a returning pleased look, Faith looks around the room desperately— looking for an escape. Seconds tick by, and Faith just continues to nervously look around, the tension growing thicker and thicker around the table.
The smile crumples from Nathan’s face, replaced with a look of devastation. If I liked him, I would feel bad for how devastated he is by the rejection.
Keywords: if I liked him.
“Faith?” He whispers her name a second time, taking a hesitant step toward the table. His voice bleeds with longing, and the poor girl won’t even make eye contact with him. I cuss under my breath—I owe neither person anything, but feeling like there are far more painful things happening than what I’m currently witnessing, I’m unable to stop myself from speaking.
“Nathan, how are you?” I ask meekly, my hand gripping Gus’s to keep him from stopping me. To my surprise, he only pats my knee, encouraging me. Nathan’s fallen face turns toward mine, and every feature adjusts to take in the picture before him. He looks between Gus and me, and then a final time back at the petite girl next to me, shaking his head.
“Fine, Stetson.” Without another word, he turns on his heel and stalks away, but not before turning around to look over Faith’s face once more.
“Uh, girly? You alright?” I ask. She clearly isn’t, but what the fuck else can I say? Faith shakes her small head and then looks up, her eyes frantic.
“You can’t say anything.” Her small hands shoot out, gripping my wrists. “To them, please don’t say anything. I’m begging, please.”
“Faith, I won’t. Are you okay?” Her hands tremble around my wrists, her amber eyes wide and her breathing shallow. Just as quickly as she grabbed me, she releases my wrists like they are on fire, and her back snaps up, perfectly straight.
“Mother, Father!” She stands quickly, rushing over to hug a thin, pale woman and a tall, perfectly shaven man. They drip class and old money, in their glittering jewelry and perfectly pressed slacks and silks. A cloud of expensive perfume fills the space around them, and I have to keep from wrinkling my nose. There’s something different about the way they carry their wealth, compared to Mateo—one warm and thoughtful, the other cold and calculating.
The man and woman stiffly hug Faith, and then scowl at the table guests she had elected to sit with. Gus’s hand once more clamps on my knee, but I fight the overwhelming urge to protect this girl who I’ve only just met.
Without thinking about it, I stand up and lean across the table, my hand outstretched.
“Stetson, and my, um, this is Gus.” Fuck! I fucked that up . The woman looks down at my outstretched hand, and then up at the mark puckered on my neck with a sneer.
“Classy.” With a huff, the lady turns around and points toward the front of the room. “Up there, Francis. And Faith, you will join us. It’s inappropriate to sit here.”
“Mother,” Faith hisses, her face flaming pink. I shoot her a weak smile, shaking my head, willing her to see it’s okay. If I know one thing about this world, it is the danger of upsetting a parent like this woman. Faith’s shoulders fold.
“Stand up straight. You look so ugly when you hump over like that.”
I want to slap the bitch.
Before I can shift, the haughty man and woman stalk away, Faith scurrying after them, turning around only to offer an apologetic smile.
“That was so fucked up,” I huff, slumping back into the chair.
“Everyone has their demons,” Gus offers solemnly. I nod— there are no truer words.