Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Cassidy
Monday.
Me: Do you read?
Country Charm: I feel like I’m going to regret telling you this.
Country Charm: I like poetry.
I literally feel myself swoon. A lightness in my chest spreads through me, and I have to try my hardest to push the feeling away. A lot of girls I know prefer men who have nice cars, motorcycles, a specific sense of fashion, the list goes on. I like a well-read man. I haven’t met a lot of them. Then again, I didn’t ask a lot of the men who I previously slept with if they read.
I didn’t really care what they did. I kind of, just barely, care what Hunter does.
Country Charm: I also don’t mind a good series. I grew up on HP and LOTR .
He likes Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings . Double swoon. Nerdy, in shape, takes care of himself, and demanding in the bedroom. I need to block this number right away.
Tuesday.
Country Charm: Pillow Thoughts, Page 11
I make way to my front room, finding the book and page for his reference.
Yup. I’m fucked. Damn you Country Charm.
Wednesday.
Me: What time do you go to bed?
Country Charm: Usually or lately?
Me: Usually.
Country Charm: About 8 latest 9.
Damn, I feel bad. I’ve been texting Hunter consistently since Sunday. It’s been a few days, and if I’m honest every time my phone goes off, I hope it’s him. We talk about stupid things and real things.
We mostly text at night because he’s out in the field during the day and I’m at the office, but even then, we still find little moments to text each other.
Then there’s the poetry. He sends me poetry, like actual poems. My brain cannot process how hot I think that is. It’s like a verbal aphrodisiac.
Last night he sent me a poem about lust and connection. Wanda and I spent a solid five minutes imagining him whispering those words to me as I was coming on my valued silicone friend.
Lynn asked me how things were going, and I shamefully lied to her. I’ve barely ever lied to the girls, and most of the time they were to set up a surprise. They were never meant to be lies to mislead them. This lie is purely out of pride. When she asked if he texted me, I said yes and then told her how I was not talking to some farmer boy who lives in the middle of nowhere.
I know I could tell them, but I just don’t want to. I don’t want to admit that I think I might like this guy. I don’t want them to try and convince me to go on a second date with him. I don’t want their input. I’m stubborn, so I want to make these decisions on my own. The fact that Lynn picked this man already sets him behind others I would have chosen for myself.
Pride can be both a beautiful and ugly thing. It can get in the way of so much, but it can also preserve you.
Thursday.
I’m on my way to dinner with the girls. Mary’s soon-to-be-in-laws are coming in, so her stress level is at the max. As dutiful friends and bridesmaids, we all agreed that dinner and drinks would do wonders for her.
I’m wearing a black sheath dress that stops just above my knee. I had a cardigan over it during the day to make it more professional, but I lost that now that I’m headed to dinner. The straps are spaghetti, and the neckline is straight, so it’s not too showy. Just a simple black dress.
Arriving at the restaurant, I don’t spot anyone, so I head to the bar and order a glass of wine.
Country Charm: Already at dinner? If so, have fun. Tell Lynn I said hey.
Me: I’m here. No one else is yet so I’m grabbing a glass.
Country Charm: Did you drive?
Me: No Hunter, I took an Uber.
Country Charm: What’s an Uber?
See, the man lives under a rock in some ways. He’s never used an Uber? He would hate it here in the city, plus he has that whole family farm legacy he could never leave. Honestly, I wonder why I continue to talk to someone when nothing can come of it.
Then it hits me: I could be Hunter’s friend. Friends who could sleep together. No strings, no expectations, no problem!
Me: It’s like a taxi, but cheaper and trackable.
Me: Hey Country Charm, would you say we are friends?
Country Charm: I guess.
Me: I like the sound of being your friend.
Country Charm: Where are you going with this… I know there is more.
Me: Ever have a FWB?
Country Charm: ???
Me: Friend with benefits.
Country Charm: Negative Cassidy, we are not going to be fuck buddies.
Me: COME ON! Why are you so difficult?
Country Charm: Because I wouldn’t be as charming if I was easy.
Me: You most certainly would.
Country Charm: Nice try. Enjoy dinner.
I take a long drink and then let out a long sigh.
“Long day at work, girl?” Georgie comes up to the stool next to me and waves down the bartender.
“Uh, yeah. I think I’m just tired. I was thinking it would be nice to get away.” I take another drink while she orders herself a glass.
“Like to the beach? That sounds heavenly.”
“Anywhere but the city would be nice. We should take a girls’ trip soon.”
Mary and Lynn walk through the door together and from here I can see that Mary is already ranting. Georgie and I share a look and then chug our twelve-dollar glasses of wine.
“Girls!” Mary yells across the restaurant. She runs up and hugs me and then Georgie.
“Hey babe. How are you holding up?” I see Lynn’s eyes widen over Mary’s shoulder and she subtly shakes her head. Not so hot, I guess.
“You know, I’ve always liked the décor in my house but for some reason this morning I woke up and decided I hate it all and need to redecorate. Tonight, or early tomorrow. Do you think my drapes look a bit dreary? What about my couches, don’t you think they looked used, and not the good vintage used? I mean used-used, like outdated and flat. What about my kitchen? I should have gone with an original wood color on the cabinets, but I got white, and now I’m worried they show too much dirt.” Mary just goes off the handle. She keeps going, I don’t even think she’s taking a breath in between each statement.
This is just another reason I’ll never get married. That in-law stress looks real.
We walk over to the host stand and I can hear Mary continue on about all the things she hates about her house, and how she doesn’t have enough time, because instead of going to Bed Bath her biggest client is the firm that I work for. I swear she’s got laws and regulations running through her circulatory system. She makes her job and the takedown of others look easy. I don’t know anything about corporate law, but I know when she is on the case the other lawyers are sweating. She is a ball buster, even to us most of the time, but we also get her sweet side.
Mary is our designer and not a little Podunk “I’ll help you pick our paint colors and couch cushions”. She is a high-end and extremely sought-after designer. That is actually how she met her fiancé; he needed a designer for his newest hotel development, and the next thing she knew, she had a ring on her finger.
Then there is my Lynn, my good girl. My good girl is a pediatrician. She used to aspire to be a pediatric surgeon to save lives, but once she had Rose, she decided the office route was good for her. She gets to watch her patients grow up and be a part of making their lives healthy.
I’m probably the group’s biggest disappointment. I just don’t push like the other girls do. I have a decent job and make decent pay, but I could make a hell of a lot more if I pushed for bigger accounts. I just prefer working just enough to pay for everything plus fun, but still have plenty of downtime.
When I was younger, I would dream of running my own department, of being this big badass boss woman. Somewhere along the way to thirty my fires just calmed, and I became happier doing something that was easy for me and never created enough stress to interfere with the rest of my life .
The girls are all-star players and they have it all. The jobs, the men, the stability, and the happiness.
“I just think it would be better if my M.O.H. came with. Please?” Mary bats her long eyelashes at me.
Somewhere the conversation has turned back to Trent’s mother coming into town tomorrow, and she wants me to tag along to go show her this dream wedding church. I can’t say I’m dying to go, but it also doesn’t bother me.
“It’s such a cute town, they have all the little mom-and-pop shops. Cute boutiques and that all-natural shit you like.” I bark out a laugh. By “all-natural” she means chemical-free, and that usually only applies to my beauty products and products around the house. I’ll eat almost anything, which is honestly terrible. I should care more about what I eat, but bad food tastes too good. All my beauty care is chemical-free, in biodegradable or reusable containers, and never tested on animals. I read a ton of books one year on the impact we have on the ecosystem, started making little changes, and never went back.
“I’ll go, what time do you want to leave?”
“I was thinking like seven-ish.” She ducks her head a little and lowers her voice when she says seven, like that’s going to make it any better.
I let out a heavy sigh because I do really enjoy sleeping on the weekends. For my girls though, I would do just about anything. “Seven-ish it is, but you’re picking me up.” I tip my glass for another healthy chug. With Mary’s victory, she can happily yammer about something else.