Chapter 15 - Callie
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Callie
“Over here!” I call out, waving to Mabel, who’s weaving her way through the mass of people crowding the Thirsty Horse Saloon. Friday nights are usually pretty busy, but once a month they do dollar drafts, so it’s even more packed than usual tonight and nearly impossible to find a table.
Thanks to my excellent powers of persistence, I’ve managed to snag the last remaining high top in the place, while Mabel worked her magic at the bar.
She expertly dodges a pair of drunken frat boys and a bachelorette party all in matching glittery tank tops and sets our drinks on the tabletop.
“Whew,” she says, pretending to swipe at her brow.
“I thought they might have to revoke my waitressing card tonight. These drinks almost didn’t make it. ”
I laugh, reaching for mine. “Well, it’s a good thing you’re a badass photographer then.” I lift my cup. Already, my toe is tapping to the beat, my body thrumming with energy. “To my incredible cousin and her amazing talent.”
Mabel taps her drink against mine. “I’ll drink to that.” She takes a big swig. “This place is wild tonight.”
“Yeah, but that’s why we love it.” The Thirsty Horse isn’t a fancy establishment.
The pine floors are scuffed and stained, and the walls are covered with neon signs and old posters from performances over the years.
Knox Wilder & The Reckless flyers from the live show a few months back are the current wallpaper.
None of the tables or the chairs match, and the bathrooms are always questionable at best. But this is our spot and has been ever since we were old enough to walk through the doors.
Every big moment in our lives has been celebrated here, and we’ve never cared that it’s a dive. Good beer, even better music, and cute guys looking to dance. It’s the perfect place to celebrate Mabel’s success and my new job.
It’s been a long time since I was here. Too long actually, and I can feel my smile drooping when the last time pops up in my memory.
It was a few years back, and Adam begrudgingly came to Dayton Springs with me for a visit.
I’d brought him here wanting to show him a good time, give him the opportunity to loosen up and have a bit of fun.
I’d wanted him to see a side of me I hadn’t yet had the opportunity to share with him yet, but the entire time, all he’d done was complain.
The beer was too flat, the floors were too sticky, and there were way too many people crowding the dance floor.
We’d spent the entire night bickering, and I hadn’t been back since.
“Hey,” Mabel’s voice calls me back to the present. “You okay?”
I nod. “Yeah, I’m good. I was just thinking about the last time we were here.”
Mabel’s face immediately turns into a scowl. “I swear if I ever see Adam the A-hole again, he’s getting a junk punch from me.”
Laughter bubbles in my throat. “I would actually pay good money to see that.”
“I may be small, but I’m scrappy.” Mabel straightens her shoulders trying to look taller than her barely 5’1 frame, which only makes me laugh more.
“Very true.”
Beside us on the table, Mabel’s phone lights up.
“It’s been over two weeks now, and my notifications are still going crazy,” she says, flipping the phone around so I can see. Her post about the photoshoot keeps gaining traction—which is probably how the news station caught wind of it.
“You know, everyone in the comments keeps asking for an update. They want to know if anything happened between you and Jensen.” She gives me a coy look, but I know her well enough to know that she’s fishing, and not just for social media purposes. My amazing but nosy cousin wants the deets.
“You already know the answer to that.”
“So, he’s still being all prickly porcupine, huh?”
“Not quite. I mean, he’s been better lately. When I brought him that pie today, he was actually nice. He told me he wanted to be friends.”
Mabel holds up both hands, her eyebrows lifted. “Wait, you didn’t tell me the pie you made today was for Jensen.”
“You didn’t ask.” I roll my eyes at the look on her face. “But, yeah, as a thank you. I wouldn’t have gotten the job if he hadn’t told me about it in the first place.”
“A simple ‘thank you’ wouldn’t have sufficed?”
“I don’t know, I just wanted to do something nice. He’s letting me live in his RV, he helped me get a job.” I shrug. “I just figured I owed him a small gesture of my appreciation.”
“And that’s it? Just your appreciation?”
“That’s it.”
“You sure about that?” Mabel taps at her phone screen, does a few quick swipes, and then flips the phone back around. “Are you seriously going to look at this photo and tell me that you’re not attracted to this man.”
I let out a sigh. “You know I am but we’re just going to be friends. It’s better that way. After Adam, I think I could use a break, don’t you? I’m done with love.”
Mabel considers this. “Being with the wrong person doesn’t mean you should stop looking for the right one, Cal.”
“I know, but I want to make sure that I don’t find myself in that same position again.
The last thing I need right now is any kind of complication, and honestly, I’m not convinced relationships are even worth it at this point.
” Even if every time I look at him, the magnetic pull I feel is so strong it steals the breath right out of my lungs.
“All I’m saying is that whatever this is,” Mabel points to the screen, “it’s not something you usually see between two people who are just friends. And the entire internet agrees with me. In fact, they’re already asking for another photoshoot with you two.”
“Well, the internet is just going to have to slow its roll. Jensen and I are friends. And that’s that.”
Thankfully, I’m saved from Mabel’s rebuttal when a guy in a white cowboy hat and equally white smile strolls up to our table. “Hey there, ladies. Either of you interested in a dance?”
I seize the opportunity. “That would be great. Be back in a sec, Mabs!” We have an unspoken rule to only dance one at a time so that a) we can keep our table, and b) that someone is there to watch our drinks. Small town or no, you can never be too careful.
I let the stranger lead me out onto the dance floor.
He tells me his name is Dan as the opening strains of a new song begin, and then there’s no time left for conversation because we’re too busy spinning around the floor.
There’s just something about two-steppin’ across a wooden floor, the clack and stomp of cowboy boots, the twirl of my hair as my partner spins me out of his arms and then back in.
Dan’s pretty good as far as dance partners go, very respectful and fun, and he makes me laugh which is an added bonus.
When the song ends, I thank him for the dance and return to my table, out of breath.
“Your turn,” I tell Mabel, noticing that a tall stranger with dark hair is already making his way over to us.
Once they’re on the dance floor, I sink down into my chair and take a sip of my drink.
My skin is flushed, but I don’t mind. This place makes me feel free, and it doesn’t matter if I’m a little sweaty or my hair is flat.
All that matters is the beat of the music and the way I feel when I’m dancing.
I smile, watching as Mabel and her partner complete a series of complicated twists and turns. It’s always nice when the good dancers show up to the bar, though I’ve never minded showing a newbie a step or two.
Mabel returns, cheeks pink and laughing, and for the next hour or so, we do our usual rotation of holding on to our table while taking turns with various partners.
I dance with Dan a few more times and with Steve, the dark haired guy Mabel danced with first. I’ve also danced with Gregory, the nearly seventy-year-old cowboy whose wife recently passed away. He’s, by far, my favorite partner.
But even with all the fun I’m having, my mind keeps wandering to a certain blue-eyed, grumpy mechanic.
“What’s that look about?” Mabel asks, refilling her cup from the water pitcher we requested from the bar. “Your face is all weird.”
“Nothing,” I tell her, trying to play it off, but when she gives me that “are you seriously going to lie to me, I’ve known you your whole life” look, I sigh and admit the truth. “I was thinking about Jensen.”
“Oh, you were, huh?” Mabel smirks.
“Stop.” I shove her shoulder, though I’m laughing when I do it. “It’s not like that.”
“Then what’s it like?”
I shake my head because I don’t have an answer.
I know it’s better for me to keep my distance, to just keep things friendly, but even when I try, I can’t stop him from invading my thoughts.
I find myself thinking about him and wondering what he’s doing, and even though I’m having an absolute blast with my cousin in one of my favorite places in the world, I can’t help but wish he was here.
Mabel starts to say something, probably to completely call me out, but a tall, sandy-haired man saunters over, reeking of whiskey. “Hey there, ladies,” he slurs, his eyes glassy. “One of you pretty ladies want to take a spin on the floor with me?”
Mabel and I share a look. While we love dancing, we make a serious effort not to do so with sleazy or drunken partners. “No thanks, we’re taking a break right now,” Mabel tells him.
“Come on, don’t be like that.” The man leans closer, his breath hot on my face. “I just want one little dance.”
My heartbeat spikes at his words. There’s an undercurrent in his tone, and although he’s smiling now, I have a feeling if we continue to brush him off, he won’t be as friendly, especially given how much he’s had to drink.
I know there are people in the bar that will back us up if this guy starts making a scene, but the last thing I want is something like that ruining our night.
Besides, I figure after he gets the attention he’s after, he’ll slink back off to the bar and leave us be.
One dance I can handle. “Okay,” I tell him, “Just one.”
Mabel grabs my forearm. “Are you sure?”
“It’s fine,” I assure her. “I’ll be right back.”
The drunk guy smirks as he leads me away from our table. “I don’t think your friend back there likes me.”
I don’t bother responding, instead I focus on the beat of the music. The drunk’s hands are sweaty when he reaches for mine, and I can’t help but grimace as he grips my fingers. He’s a little uneasy on his feet and his movements are sloppy at best, but it’s not the worst dance I’ve ever had .
Thankfully, after a few laps around the dance floor, the song ends. I step back, putting some space between us. “Thanks for the dance,” I tell him, eager to return to my table.
“Now wait a second,” he calls after me. “Where you going?”
I don’t bother stopping to respond, and he grabs my bicep, jerking me back a step.
“I’m going back to my friend,” I tell the guy. “Our dance is over.”
“Well, I think I’d like another one.” His fingers dig into my skin. “Come on, girly, you know you want to dance with me again.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Now come on, don’t be like that.”
My heartbeat races as I think about my options. So much for trying to avoid a scene. I should’ve known better than to engage with this creep in the first place, but usually the drunk ones slither off after they get their dance. I assumed this guy would be the same.
Clearly not.
“Thank you for the dance,” I try again, all the politeness gone from my voice. “I’m going to go back to my table now.” I rip my arm out of the guy’s grasp.
His face instantly changes. “Listen here, I said I wanted another dance and you’re not going anywhere.”