chapter nine Karma for Not Believing in the Curse #2
talk person; if we’re not trauma bonding ten minutes after meeting I’m going to get bored.
I glance over my shoulder at Lex, smiling at the memory of our first conversation and how we both seem to have the same ambivalence for small talk.
“So how about you?” Cowboy Guy asks.
My attention snaps back to his face, kind and open and genuinely curious. Shit. I have zero idea what he just said. “Uh, yeah! Totally. I agree.”
His brow furrows as he tries to piece my cobbled-together reply with the bland conversation we’re having. Silence settles
between us, and definitely not the comfortable kind.
“I’m . . . going to check on a few of the other riders,” Cowboy Guy finally says, unable to salvage our date from the awkwardness
it descended into. Can’t say I blame him. I take the opportunity to whip out my phone and snag a selfie, catching a candid
picture of Lex behind me as she takes in the gorgeous scenery of the trail while I make a silly face in front of her.
We round the corner on our ride about thirty minutes in. The sun is shining, the trail ride is picturesque, and Cowboy Guy
has come back up to the front with me. We’ve returned to amicable conversation, getting along just fine. It’s all evidence
of a great date, but all that changes the moment Missy sees the barn.
What I can only describe as a sexy mustang whinnies from its paddock at the stables, tossing its long mane like the horse
version of Fabio. Apparently, Missy is horny AF because the moment she spots him she breaks away from the rest of the group
at a full-on sprint. My feet fly out of the stirrups, the reins slip out of my hands, and all I can do is hold on to the saddle
for dear life and scream at the top of my lungs.
Cowboy Guy lopes up beside me. “Say woah!” he calls. “Squeeze your legs and say woah!”
“Woa-oa-oa-oah!” I cry, too jostled by Missy’s gait to get a proper word out. I try to squeeze my thighs together, but they’ve
turned to Jell-O.
A fence approaches rapidly. Cowboy Guy curses, then yields his horse. “Get ready to jump!” he cries.
Jump? What the fuck! No no no no.
The fence comes up faster than I can register, and I brace myself to leap over this thing, to soar through the air like a
bird or a plane or Superman or—
Missy skids to a halt, lowers her head, and sends me flying. I flip ass over tea kettle and hit the ground, sliding directly
into a giant pile of manure. The sky spins in circles as I lie on the ground. My chest aches as my lungs have forgotten how
inhaling works. Spots dance in my vision and the world goes topsy-turvy, until, finally, the invisible force squeezing my
torso lets up and I suck in a gasp of air.
Two more breaths and I manage to sit, which is fine, but when I try to stand the world topples once more. I come to terms
with landing flat on my face, back into the pile of manure, but a hand reaches out and grabs me, holding me upright. Dazed,
I look over at Cowboy Guy to thank him for—
Wait, not Cowboy Guy. “Lex?”
“I’ve got you,” she says, holding me tightly, one arm wrapped around my waist and the other taking my hand.
I blink several times as she comes into focus. The light shines on her face and makes her glow like some goddamn angel sent
from above to save me from this terrible date. Her clear blue eyes are bright and riddled with concern.
“You okay?” she asks, her voice so calm and sure it instantly soothes my nerves. “Anything hurt?”
“Um . . .” I take a mental note of my bones and joints and don’t notice anything screaming in pain, aside from a bruise on
my ass. “Just my pride, I guess.”
She sighs with relief. “Okay. Let’s get you home and cleaned up.”
“Everything okay?” Cowboy Guy asks, trotting up beside us.
“I got her. You get the horses,” Lex directs, leading me down the path toward the barn. Cowboy Guy leaves to wrangle Lex’s horse and Missy, who snorts and paws at the fence where Fabio Horse is. As a fellow horny and lovesick individual, I can’t even be mad at her. Hope you get some, girl.
Lex drives me back to my house. The drive is quiet, save for her humming along to a song on the radio, but not uncomfortable.
When I look over at her she just smiles and shrugs, as if to say, well, here we are. No pity. No sadness. Just . . . acceptance. I smile back, glad to have her with me here on this crazy roller coaster.
At home I peel my stinky clothes off me and hop in the shower, letting the hot water wash away the shame of yet another ruined
date. By the time I’m dried off and back in my comfy sweatpants, Lex has already thrown my clothes in the wash, had my favourite
takeout delivered, and fired up an old Ben Stiller rom-com on the TV. My heart squeezes at the sight of Lex nestled on the
couch with Winston, a blanket draped over her lap. There’s a bottle of wine prepped with two full glasses next to steaming
plates of butter chicken and naan waiting for us on my coffee table.
I snuggle onto the couch with Lex and Winston, offer my glass toward Lex in a cheers, and press Play on the movie as we tuck
into our dinner. We spend the evening in companionable silence, both of us sitting sideways on the couch with our legs overlapping
and entwining, letting the date sink in rather than talking about it. For a moment I pretend to be normal—just me and my friend
spending an evening together, no data to gather, no awkward dates to endure, and no curse looming over me ready to ruin my
day without a moment’s notice.
It’s exactly what I need.