40. Sophie
FORTY
SOPHIE
“What are you doing over here?” Foster asks when he joins me where I’m sitting at the bar, examining my feet.
“I’m checking to see if I have two lefts.”
“No way, you were killing it out there,” he assures me, but when I look up at his face I can see him trying to hide his grin. He’s failing.
“Nearly killing others is more like it,” I scoff.
“Nah, you weren’t?—”
“Foster, let’s not play the game where we pretend I’m good at something I’m not. I’m okay with not being good at things. Especially things that are, well—” I wave at the floor where six couples decked out in various levels of western wear are boogying around the dance floor. “Will you please go back out?”
“I don’t want to do it alone.”
“You won’t be. That woman’s partner bailed.” I point at the only single woman on the floor who’s now awkwardly shuffling around. “He took a phone call. Probably won’t be for that long.”
He looks down at me and back out at the woman. When he looks at me again, I think he’s about to say that he actually doesn’t want to do it without me, but he doesn’t. “Just a dance or two, then I’ll be back. Start thinking about M.”
Foster approaches the woman whose blush I can see from here, and I’m instantly filled with regret. Is this when it happens? He finally finds the woman he’s going to bring to all the silly friend barbecues and hockey games? Is she the one who’s going to go to the emergency vet with him at three in the morning and eat the food he makes?
It’s fine if that’s what happens. This was never a real thing anyway. It’s fun, I won’t deny that, and he has made me feel all the things I’ve heard people talk about, but it’s not real. If he comes back and says he’s actually going to head out with her, I’d be fine with it.
You’re a fucking liar, Sophie Hore , I can hear Maya hiss. Look at how sexy he makes line dancing look. See how his hips move. He can probably do so much with those hips, and you’re sitting here trying to tell yourself that for the past two months what you’ve been doing is purely friendship-based. Bullshit wrapped in horseshit, deep fried in a big old vat of denial.
I keep one eye on Foster as I pull my phone out.
I think I’m in trouble.
Maya
Because you’re in love with the jolly red giant?
I’m not in love with him.
Soph, you’re so head over heels for that man that Simone Biles is going to be asking you for tips.
What do I do?
I don’t know. Do you FEEL ready for something real?
I don’t know.
Can I be honest with you?
Please
You’ve been dating the guy for two months. Like one hundred percent in a relationship without the sex and if that’s not some serious edging I don’t know what is.
I have nothing to say to that so I stare as Foster twirls another woman seamlessly around the dance floor.
Like, when he touches you, you’re going to come immediately just from sheer relief. And when you decide to go for it you may want to have backups for all the lights in your place because you two are going to be feral.
MAYA!
You said I could be honest with you! I’m being honest.
…
You’re only uncomfortable with it because you know I’m right. I saw you two together. I’ve seen you talk about him. I’ve seen him watch you when you didn’t realize it. He got the hot sauce ON THE SIDE Sophie!
Seriously though you may want to check your vacation days because the fuckfest you’ll be engaged in will be
Shoes appear in front of me, and I quickly lock my phone before I can finish reading Maya’s message. Foster is standing in front of me, a bit more disheveled than he had been earlier. His hair looks like he’s run his hands through it a few times, and I fight the urge to jump up and do the same.
“I wanna ride the bull,” I blurt out. I don’t actually want to, but I can’t admit to what I’d really like to ride right now. Stupid Maya.
He looks to his left where a middle-aged man is staggering to the gate after being thrown off. “Are you sure? I’ve seen like six people get whiplash on that thing since we got here.”
“I’m sure. You too chicken to try?”
“No, I think I’ve got too much length to center myself on that thing.”
Don’t think about his dick, don’t think about his dick.
He instantly looks mortified. “Length was the wrong word,” he stammers. “I mean height.”
Dick, dick, dick. Oh my god, Sophie, stop it right now.
“Well, you can watch me. I don’t have your, uh, length.” What the actual fuck am I saying?
Foster’s whole face turns the color of his hair, and I suddenly find myself unable to care what left my mouth because he looks adorable right now. He’s always so damn hot, but adorable isn’t his standard look. Turns out it’s a nice one, though.
“It’ll start slow and speed up quickly, so be prepared,” the attendant tells me as I swing up onto the headless bovine. Odd considering I grew up with a real one outside my door, but I never once thought, I should ride that thing.
I peer over at Foster as the bull starts to move and grin as I let my hips match the rhythm under me. This is a mistake, I think as our eyes lock. I shouldn’t be looking at him while moving like this. He looks hypnotized, his eyes locked on me as he visibly swallows, lips parted slightly. He got hot sauce on the side. Maya’s words hit me as the bull goes left and I go right, landing on my back on the padded ground.
A hand appears above me, and I reach up so Foster can pull me to my feet.
“You’re not supposed to be in here, man,” the attendant scolds. But Foster doesn’t even acknowledge him. His attention is fully on me, and it’s heating me from the inside out.
I need air.
Without letting go of his hand, I drag him out of the building and into the parking lot. Once I’m free of the music and people in cowboy hats, I feel a bit more like I can breathe.
“You okay?” Foster asks after I let go of his hand so I can redo my ponytail. I look up in time to see him smiling at my head. Smiling at my hair, maybe? Like he’s happy I’m putting it up. Gregory hated my hair in a ponytail, told me I had too much of a pinhead to carry one off. I’ve worn one almost every day since he kicked me out.
“I’m fine, just stuffy in there.” I spin to see where we are in relation to the car. “I guess that could be M? Mechanical bull?”
“Yeah, that works. Can I interest you in Nigerian food for dinner?”
“Four letters in one day? We are wild,” I gasp. “I’ve never had Nigerian food.”
“I haven’t either,” he says enthusiastically, and the idea of trying something with him for the first time has me agreeing immediately.