6. Lara
It”s rodeo day, and my stomach loops into complicated knots.
I press my palm against Coco”s neck, her warmth seeping through my skin and her presence steady. As long as I”ve got her with me, everything”s fine. She”s one of the best mares I”ve ever had—calm and steady. She doesn”t shy, and she”s never bolted.
Everything is perfect today. I”m crowned queen, and it”s all about the image now. And mine is perfect.
Today, I spent way too much time in front of the mirror. I”ve got a gallon of spray on my hair to keep it contained—no flyaways—and an inch of makeup on my face. Big silver sparkly earrings bling from my ears, and my sequin shirt and pants are black.
Standing just outside the main ring, I focus on the other girls with their barrel horses. Brushing, checking tack, hanging out, and chatting—waiting to ride.
The competition hasn”t started yet, but the excitement is bubbling in everyone”s veins. The bleachers on the opposite side of the ring have been filling up for the better part of the last hour, and in about thirty minutes, there won”t be room left to fit another person.
Trailers line the dirt road leading up to the area on this side, with vehicles and animals taking up every inch of available space.
The sun overhead shines brightly, and the scent of warm horseflesh fills the air.
”Boo!” Amanda”s voice sounds directly next to my ear, and I jump a mile out of my skin, jerking enough that Coco widens her eyes and nickers.
”Don”t do that.” I press my palm to my thrumming heart and reach for the mare with my opposite hand. ”You can just say hi like a normal little girl, can”t you?”
Amanda tips her head back and laughs, eyes closed against the sun”s glare. Her laughter lights up her face, and I grin despite the sharp desire to be mad at her for spooking me.
”It”s more fun this way,” she insists, still laughing, her cheeks bunching.
”What? Scaring me half to death?”
”I got your mind off your nerves, though, didn”t it?” She”s way too pleased with herself.
And also too observant for an eight-year-old.
She presses close, and I nudge her gently with my shoulder. ”How”d you get so smart?”
”I”ve always been smart,” my sister replies, climbing on the fence to get a better look at everything.
”I”m not sure why you think I”m nervous. I”m fine. I”ve got my best girl here.” I gesture to Coco with a nod.
”You”re nervous because you look like you”re about to barf,” Amanda says matter-of-factly, not looking at me.
Her word choice has me blanching. ”I”m fine. Just stick close to me, okay?” I glance around to see if Mother or Papa are nearby. ”Don”t run off on your own, is what I mean. Too many people are here, and you”ll get lost in the crowd.”
Amanda blows me off with a wave. ”I”m fine. I know where I am.”
”Still.” I tighten my grip on Coco”s reins. ”I”d feel much better if you stuck with me until I go in. Okay?” I say, spine straight, working to narrow my focus.
”When”s it start?” She bounces lightly on the fence, her angelic face split by a wide smile. ”I want to watch you.”
I”ve been trying not to look at the time because each time I do, the minutes either pass too fast or last an eternity. Neither one is good for me.
”Soon enough,” I tell her. ”Any minute now.”
”Coco is going to do great!” Amanda reaches out for the mare”s soft nose. ”Does she like being around all these other horses?”
”She likes it about as much as I like being around all these different people,” I joke.
”Oh, you love this. You”ve probably been checking out all the hot guys.” Amanda giggles again.
I pause for a beat before I burst out laughing. ”Where”d you hear that? Who have you been hanging out with?”
”I just think there”re a lot of cute boys here. Like Dylan!” Amanda”s face lights up when she sees him across the way from where we stand. Where—I”m surprised to say—I hadn”t noticed him setting up. Shoot.
She”s right.
There”s something remarkable about Dylan. Most of his face is shaded by the brim of his hat as he leans on the fence.
”Dylan might be cute, but I don”t have my eye on him,” I clarify just for my sister. ”I”m fine exactly where I am.”
Totally fine.
Parker is precisely the kind of guy I want to date. Amanda is too young to understand this kind of thing. Too young to even be interested in boys or anything like that outside of simple crushes on some of her classmates. She gets ideas in her head. And once those ideas get stuck there, it”s a bear to try and get her off the subject. It seems she”s gotten fixated on the idea of Dylan and how he might be—he and I?—
It”s too much for me to even say inside my own head.
”He”d be perfect for you, though.” Amanda adjusts her stance on the fence and lifts her arm to wave wildly at Dylan. ”I just think you guys would be good together. He”s nice, and he”s nice to me.”
I stare at her out of the corner of my eye. ”And Parker isn”t nice to you?”
”He is,” Amanda admits begrudgingly. ”Not as nice as Dylan, though. Which is why you should date him instead.”
It takes Dylan a bit to look up from whatever he”s fixated on, but when he does, he unerringly finds Amanda and waves back. Then, to me, a much smaller wave. And a heated smile.
My heart flutters.
”If you think so, smart girl, then tell me why you think he”d be good for me,” I say with an undertone. ”What”re your reasons?”
Amanda leans back, her fingers gripping the fence rail, and bites her lower lip. ”You like the same kind of things. He”s cool. He saved me from the pool. He hangs out with us. He doesn”t treat me like a baby.”
”You”re right about those things, but it doesn”t mean we”d be a good couple. Besides, I already have somebody. I have Parker.” I have Parker.
It takes my sister and I a couple of tries to locate Parker in the bleachers. And I feel even worse when we find him staring at both of us with a gloomy expression dragging his features down.
He”s been that way for too long, unable to shake whatever thoughts bother him. And I know in my gut that it has something to do with the night of the birthday party. I”ve been teasing him about his PMS—Pissy male syndrome—but I thought he”d be fine today.
At least he”s watching and supporting me.
I wave to him in greeting, but he does nothing but nod in acknowledgment.
”I know you have Parker, but wouldn”t it be nice to have Dylan instead? I mean, he makes cookies with us. And he”s good at making cookies,” Amanda adds.
I roll my eyes. ”You”re about as subtle as being run over by a cattle stampede.”
”But it”s true. You ate his macarons.”
”And macarons aren”t the kind of thing that automatically makes a boy a good boyfriend,” I assure her. ”Come on, Amanda. Let”s drop it. Dylan and I are friends. I see right through you. Your powers of persuasion aren”t going to work.”
She has, at least, managed to distract me from the fluttering of butterfly wings in my stomach from the competition.
My sister finally hops down from the fence and shifts over to stroke Coco”s neck. ”I don”t believe you, Lara.”
”I don”t care if you believe me or not. You don”t have to. I know the truth.” Except the truth inside me is all kinds of messy. Whether I admit it or not.
Because up until the night of the party, we had been just friends. Sure, I”ve always thought Dylan shifted from cute to handsome. And maybe there”s been something between us for a long time.
A whole lot of maybes.
Not to mention, there is no way I”m telling anyone, definitely not Amanda, about Dylan watching me the night of the party. How I”d felt his eyes on me from the doorway even before I took off my bathing suit. And somehow… that excited me. Knowing he watched, knowing he saw every inch of my body?—
”I know you have a thing for him. Just like he has a thing for you,” Amanda continues excitedly.
What else am I going to say to her? There”s no stopping her. She”s just as stubborn as the rest of us. Instead, I laugh, but I know it”s true, too.
”You”re too observant for your own good sometimes,” I murmur.
”Why aren”t you a couple?” she whines.
”Because I”m part of a couple with Parker.” It”s the best excuse I can give her because it”s not an excuse. It”s the absolute truth, and if she doesn”t drop it soon, her cute face won”t stop me from getting frustrated.
Amanda pouts prettily. ”I bet Parker isn”t going to tell you that you look beautiful.”
I”m done up in my rodeo attire and accompanying leather chaps. A black cowboy hat sets off the ensemble, with the turquoise sash proclaiming my status as Rodeo Queen, the only splash of color to break up my outfit. It nestles across my chest, down to my hip, and over the opposite shoulder.
”I bet now that Dylan has seen you, he”ll come over and compliment you. I”m surprised he hasn”t already. He”s always watching you.”
I purse my lips for a second. ”It”s none of your business, Amanda. Please drop it.”
And she does, thank goodness, and not a moment too soon because Dylan strolls around the rounded fence of the riding ring. He instantly captures my attention, and the world narrows around him. Tall and broad-shouldered, his long legs clad in jeans and chaps. He”s an old-fashioned gunslinger in a modern world, and maybe I”m imagining how my insides thrum at the sight of him, and there”s no ignoring how my mouth goes dry.
Dylan arrives as Parker cuts straight through the crowd on our other side. They reach us simultaneously, and for a brief, tense couple of seconds, no one says a word.
Amanda plays icebreaker and matchmaker in the same breath because she launches herself at Dylan and wraps her arms around his midsection. ”Good luck today!” she tells him.
Parker takes that as his cue and crosses to me before leaning and kissing my cheek.
”Is the Rodeo Queen ready to open the whole thing?” Dylan asks me, going full-on flirt. ”You look beautiful today, Lara.”
Amanda turns her head against his shirt with a wicked grin as though to tell me, see?
I nod, Parker”s hand snaking across my shoulders and tugging me close to him so that I”m tucked underneath the shelter of his arm, still holding Coco”s reins. ”Yeah, I”m ready.”
”You do look pretty. A little too skinny, though,” Parker adds. ”Were you too nervous to eat?”
”No, I had a big breakfast,” I reply dryly.
”Let”s not forget what happens when I win today,” Dylan drawls, circling the conversation back to our bet. He stares over Amanda”s head to meet Parker”s eyes, and the air thickens between us.
Almost to choking levels, but not quite.
”Oh, trust me,” Parker bites out. ”I haven”t forgotten anything. I”m just not sure you”re as good as you think, Dylan.”
If we stay here much longer, one of them will throw a punch they won”t be able to take back. Fear, as much as a slight whip of anger, has me angling my body slightly between them.
”Of course he”s good,” Amanda insists. ”He”s better than good.” She cranes her face up to him. ”Aren”t you?”
He smiles and chuckles under his breath. ”I like to think so, but we”ll see once I get out there.”
It”s easier to focus on Dylan than on Parker for some reason, although they both stare at me in expectation. Both of them want something out of me. Parker wants assurance that he”s the only one in my life and in my head, and I”ve indulged him there, as far as I know. I”ve been the perfect girlfriend for him. Smiling, happy, willing to do anything for him. I keep myself skinny for him… And Dylan—well—he expects a kiss if he wins.
More than a kiss.
A kiss will be the tip of the iceberg.
As though he senses the shift in my mind, Parker stiffens and simultaneously tightens his hold on me. ”I still think the whole bet deal is ridiculous,” he grumbles.
Dylan says nothing, and his silence only pisses Parker off more.
”I think it would be best not to say anything in front of Amanda while she”s here.” I keep my tone sweet and a fake smile plastered on my face.
The loudspeakers come on with a slight whining hiss before the announcer begins to speak, welcoming everyone to the rodeo. A loud whoop goes up from the crowd on the bleachers.
This is it.
My stomach goes from knots to a freefall, dipping and swirling.
”Yay! It”s time!” Amanda bounces up and down before she finally unwinds from Dylan and approaches me. ”Good luck.”
”Thanks, kid.” I grab Amanda in a hug before I”m called away to do a run on Coco around the ring. During the National Anthem—the same as the Rodeo Queens in the past—I”ll carry the flag and gallop around the ring, stirring up the crowd and getting everyone excited.
That, at least, I can focus on.
More than whatever is inside my head, haunting me.
I rise on my tiptoes to kiss Parker”s cheek. ”See you on the other side.”
”I”m proud of you, baby,” Parker says sweetly. He looks like he has more to say but keeps it to himself.
I turn my back on him, flicking my gaze to Dylan, starting at the tips of his boots and working my way up to his shadowed eyes.
He searches my face. ”Good luck.”
Without saying anything, I click my tongue and lead Coco over to the entrance to the ring. Then, it”s a simple matter of sliding my boot into the stirrup and swinging myself into the saddle.
Here, I”m confident. Here, I”m in control in a way I”m not anywhere else. This… this is what I need. I want to focus on the rodeo and do my part—not the kiss, Parker, boyfriends, or anything like that.
The announcer ends his speech, and the first strains of the National Anthem begin to play. I urge Coco into a jog, then into a faster gate. Thinking the entire time about what Amanda said.
Choices.
There are always choices to be made, and sometimes it feels like I have none.
But I do.
The only problem is that I”m too scared to make the choice I want to make. To stop everything and indulge in my strange, terrifying feelings for Dylan. Like maybe he”ll actually understand the scars I don”t allow anyone to see, and no one notices because they”re on the inside.
I nudge Coco, and she bolts. I lean forward with the flag as we circle the ring.
It”s scary to go for Dylan. He means too much to me. If I mess it up and change the playing field, there will be no going back. Ever.
It”s smarter to say nothing and give him his kiss when he wins, just as I know he will, and then go back to my life no matter how claustrophobic it”s starting to feel.