20. Laine
20
LAINE
The only thing worse than wearing a pink cowboy hat topped with male genitalia on it is wearing it around your fake-boyfriend’s sister and ex. It’s even worse than I imagined. All the bridesmaids have one. Cassidy’s hat is glittery white and has a veil attached to the back.
“Thanks for coming,” Cassidy says, pulling me into a hug. “And thank you for filling the last-minute bridesmaid spot.” Judging by her eager affection, she must already be on her way to getting drunk.
“Grab your shirts too!” Cassidy’s sister says, shoving hot-pink tank tops toward me and Frankie. As the maid of honor, she’s hosting the party at her apartment.
Frankie and I unfurl our shirts at the same time. Mine says Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy , and hers says Saddlin’ Up Forever .
“Oh, sorry, I wore a dress,” I say, sending a mental thank-you to myself for making that choice.
"It’s mandatory!” Cassidy’s sister insists. “You can borrow some shorts from me.”
“Nice try,” Frankie whispers to me, stifling a laugh .
Within a few minutes, all six bridesmaids are in matching shirts and hats. The shorts I’m borrowing are a bit too tight and too short, but I try to ignore it. I swig my drink back, hoping it’ll dull the inevitable onslaught of continued embarrassment that will be on its way. Normally, a goofy party isn’t something I’d protest. But every girl here, aside from Frankie, gives me the same suspicious look. Meanwhile, Frankie stares back at them all, her narrowed eyes a just try it warning.
“You’re Laine, right?” one bridesmaids asks me finally. Aside from Shania Twain’s “I Feel Like a Woman” playing on the speaker, the room goes silent. Everyone’s dagger gaze is on me.
“Well, I’m certainly not the stripper,” I joke.
The party starts off about as I expected—naughty Pictionary and gift-giving at varying degrees of spice. I’m sure Frankie can’t feel much more comfortable than me, especially with all the talk about how Wells will “really love ” Cassidy’s new outfits, but Frankie somehow keeps her bubbly demeanor at the forefront—at least until one of the bridesmaids starts a game of Never Have I Ever.
At first, it’s fine. Never have I ever sent a dirty text, or gone skinny dipping, or been with a friend’s ex. But quickly, things take a turn.
“Never have I ever…kissed two brothers,” one bridesmaid says, grinning mischievously at Cassidy, then at me. The look she gives me gnaws at my stomach.
“So gross,” Frankie whispers, her face twisting as she watches Cassidy take a long, almost victorious swig of her beer.
“Who was better, Wells or Sutton?” someone asks.
Frankie and I swap horrified looks.
“That’s so not fair!” Cassidy giggles .
Everyone, aside from Frankie and me, groan in protest of Cassidy’s discretion, and she quickly gives in.
“Well, there’s always something special about your first. Sutton and I had plenty of practice over the years, but we were always sort of…vanilla,” Cassidy says, eyes flicking to me for a split second. Her words slur, and I wonder if she would offer all this up if she wasn’t two beers and three shots deep. “But Wells really knows how to take charge. And you know how he hates being shown up by his big brother.”
The girls fall into a fit of loud laughter. The pit in my stomach deepens, and I look down, half expecting there to be a hole clear through the middle of it.
“Is Sutton still vanilla, Laine?” Cassidy’s sister asks.
“I plead the fifth,” I mutter, heat prickling over my skin.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Frankie says under her breath. Louder, she announces, “I’m going to top off my drink.”
Leaping from my seat, I follow a step behind her.
As soon as we’re up and retreating to the kitchen, the front door opens, and a man with a snap-button shirt, baggy, lumpy sweats, and (no surprise) a cowboy hat comes in, a Bluetooth speaker in his hand. He smirks at Frankie and me.
Is he really a—
Before I can finish that thought, he strips his sweats off in one smooth motion to reveal a pair of briefs under ass-less chaps. Frankie ducks her head and steps into the kitchen with me right behind.
From the living room, we hear, “Howdy, ladies,” and a chorus of excited squeals. Soon after, some song starts about shaking it for the birds and bees.
I look down at my bedazzled innuendo shirt and too-tight cutoffs and sigh. “Tonight is an all-time low.”
As if on cue, the stripper’s voice booms from the living room. “Who’s ready for the ride of their life?” We sip our drinks and listen to the excited chaos unfolding in the living room, unable to hold our laughter in when we hear a girl shriek. From my sanctuary in the kitchen, and with Frankie at my side, it all feels a little less mortifying.
Eventually, Cassidy’s sister calls us a couple of Ubers to take us to a bar. Somehow, I end up in the middle seat of a dinged-up Honda Civic, wedged between Cassidy and Frankie.
“Did Sutton ever tell you about us?” Cassidy asks, hiccupping in the middle of her question.
“Yeah, I know you dated,” I say. “And even if I hadn’t, I’m pretty sure I could have figured it out tonight.”
Through giggles, she says, “But did he tell you about how in love we were?”
“Cass,” Frankie warns, squeezing her eyes shut, “let’s leave all that in the past.”
Cassidy holds up her hands in a small surrender. “Whatever. I’m just saying, if I were Laine, I would want to know, especially because Sutton and I shared all our firsts. First kiss, first dance, first engagement.”
My throat tightens.
“That’s enough,” Frankie says, practically begging now.
“Well, almost engagement,” Cassidy clarifies. By the look on my face, she must understand that I, in fact, knew nothing about the engagement. I have no right to be jealous, but I feel that little green-eyed monster crawling up my back anyway. And he’s heavy.
“Sutton and I were in that young kind of love. But when he moved to New York for school, I knew it wouldn’t last much longer. We tried to make it work for a while. But when Duke…you know…Sutton came home, and he was all wild and erratic.”
“Cassidy, please,” Frankie urges, eyes sharp with panic.
Ignoring Frankie, Cassidy continues. “Sutton got into this ha-uge fight with his dad in front of everyone and stormed off. When I found him, he asked me to marry him.”
My throat cinches tighter yet, as if being coiled by a snake. I rub it, coaxing oxygen to flow through again.
“I said no,” Cassidy says, looking proud. The Uber pulls to a stop outside of the bar.
I throw the car door open. After taking a few steps toward the bar, I backtrack. Unable to hold back, I duck my head down into the backseat just as Cassidy is shimmying out. “Was that before or after he found you messing around with his brother in his truck?”
Okay, now I can go. My hands tremble at my sides while I leave the other girls behind. Frankie hurries to catch up with me, looping her elbow around mine so we can walk in together.
“It’s fine,” I mutter before Frankie has to think of something to say.
It should be fine, considering the fact that Sutton and I aren’t even an actual couple.
The music is loud, the patrons are wild, and the lights are colorful. It’s exactly the kind of place I could see myself going on impulse, just to see what it’s about, and making the most of it no matter what. But now, this bar is just reminding me of dancing with Sutton at The Cowboy Cantina, which reminds me of the feeling of his arms tightening around me and that happy, almost hungry, look in his eyes.
Thankfully, there is a silver lining in the center of the room. And it’s mechanical.
Cassidy runs over to it immediately, and everyone steps aside to let her cut the line once they see her veil-topped cowboy hat. She hops onto the mechanical bull with the confidence of someone who's had one—or four—too many drinks. The crowd cheers and hollers as the bull jolts alive. She keeps one hand on her hat and the other on the bull’s handle, laughing heartily through the spins.
I pull my phone out. All night, I’ve been resisting the urge to text Sutton, but I’m losing willpower with every drink that enters my system. And as much as I’d love to see Cassidy get thrown off the bull, talking to Sutton is even more tempting.
Did your stripper have ass-less chaps too?
Within seconds, three dots appear.
Couldn’t say. As soon as I heard the opening notes of “Boot Scootin’ Boogie” outside the door, I hid in the bathroom.
That could have been your soulmate.
Missed opportunity. But I do see this gorgeous girl at the bar we’re at. I think I’m going to make a move. Wish me luck.
My stomach sinks. Sutton is out charming some beautiful stranger while I'm here trying to keep up appearances at a bachelorette party I sincerely don’t want to be at.
I try to push the feeling aside, reminding myself that we're not truly together, and he's free to do whatever he wants.
Within seconds, though, I feel a pair of strong arms wrap around me from behind, pulling me into a warm embrace.
“Miss me?” Sutton's voice murmurs in my ear, sending shivers down my spine.
I’m too drunk to worry about reining my grin in when I turn around to see him. “What are you doing here? ”
“Wells wanted to show us all how good he is at riding a bull. And though he insisted he wanted the real thing, I convinced him that this would be a suitable—and safer—alternative.”
Sutton steps closer, his fingers brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. His touch sends a shiver through my entire body. “Wells is watching us,” he says, nodding toward the bar as his lips tilt into a half-smile. “Still think we need to ramp things up?”
You’re in too deep , I tell myself. But then Sutton steps closer, and I’m drawing in before I realize it. The music seems to muffle, replaced by the sound of my pulse thrumming unevenly in my ears. My chin tilts up, almost involuntarily, and I brush my lips against his.
Slowly, my hands gravitate to Sutton’s hair, grabbing fistfuls of his perfect curls, and I hold him closer to me. I need him closer to me. Sutton, apparently, is thinking something along the same lines. He holds my face between his hands. They’re big enough that his thumbs graze along my jawline while his other fingers press against my neck.
My mind usually feels as though it’s constantly racing, bouncing between one thought and the next before I can get oriented. Now, it’s on overdrive.
It’s all for show.
He’s your best friend.
It’s not real.
His lips part, his breath warm against me, and my thoughts become far more focused.
Sutton. Sutton. Sutton.
We’ve kissed a few times since arriving in Montana. But this kiss is different. More urgent, more real . A warm buzzing washes over me, settling deep in my stomach.
When we finally break apart, we're both breathless, our foreheads resting against each other. My heart is pounding, and I almost convince myself I can see the desire in Sutton’s eyes, probably mirroring my own.
Sutton stoops down again, this time bringing his mouth to the side of my jaw. His voice is a mere whisper as he speaks, his lips tickling against my ear. “I think that should do it.” He rests his head against mine for a moment before adding, “I like your hat.”
The warmth climbs back up my body, spreading across my cheeks. I’m not usually someone to get overly embarrassed, but something about sharing a kiss like that while wearing a hat like this does the trick.
I laugh off my blushing and gesture to my Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy shirt. “It completes the look. You like?”
Sutton’s eyes narrow, and he smirks to one side, a single dimple flashing. “I might like it more if I was still a cowboy.”
Wow. Maybe it’s the booze, but I can tell Sutton is feeling as dangerous as me tonight. It takes every ounce of willpower in me to turn back to the mechanical bull.
Suddenly, I’m incredibly grateful Cassidy asked me to come to her bachelorette party.
Somewhere in the immeasurable time between the start and end of…whatever that was— kiss feels too plain a word—Cassidy got bucked off. Unsurprising, seeing as how she can barely walk in a straight line tonight. Frankie is on the bull now. Her curvy, athletic build seems like it was made for this. She grips onto the bull tightly, giggling with her head back. Even in the dimmed colored lights, Frankie’s eyes shine. Her long blonde curls spring around her head, an uncanny resemblance to Taylor Swift’s Fearless cover. As always, Frankie is full of life. As always, it’s contagious. Apparently, a ride on a mechanical bull was just what she needed to get her mind off hearing way too intimate details about her brothers.
Frankie stays on for such a long stretch, she eventually jumps off willingly. “It’s someone else’s turn!” she yells to the operator, flashing a bright smile. Leave it to Frankie to be selfless even when it comes to mechanical bulls. Immediately, she beelines for Sutton and me. Something about the way Frankie smiles at me makes me feel like I have another best friend.
“You need to try that, Laine!” she insists, a laugh lingering in her voice.
I shrug and return her expression. “Say no more.” I catch Wells’ eye from across the bar. He’s still studying us, one eyebrow raised. Maybe the kiss between Sutton and me didn’t look as convincing as it felt. Wells is suspicious, and whether that’s suspicious about the validity of our relationship or suspicious that Sutton might still have feelings for Cassidy, I need to fix it. I grab Sutton’s hand, and he tightens his fingers around mine immediately. “I’ll only ride if Sutton joins me.”
The bull operator must know what we’re about to ask, because he’s already shaking his head as we approach. “No, sorry. One at a time.”
“But it’s my first time on one. And this guy is a real-deal cowboy,” I say, using my free hand to squeeze Sutton’s bicep.
The operator and I go back and forth for a few minutes until I eventually crack him with, “I’ll Venmo you twenty dollars.”
Sutton and I climb into the foam-padded pen, my heart racing, not just from the prospect of riding the mechanical bull, but from the charged atmosphere between Sutton and me. The neon lights cast vibrant hues across our faces, and the pulsating music seems to synchronize with my heartbeat.
He lifts me onto the bull with ease, his hands grasping tight to my hips as he does so. Then he climbs on behind me. Grabbing my hands, Sutton places them on the rope handle in front of me. One of his stays on mine, and the other holds around my waist. My stomach flips .
The bull moves slowly at first, and my skin crawls as it sweeps across Sutton’s body. Before long, however, I can’t overthink that much. The bull swings harder and faster, thrusting us around, forward, and back and stopping here and there just to throw us forward even harder. For a moment, we aren’t Sutton and Laine. We’re just crashing limbs and pressing skin. Because Sutton is so close to me, I can’t see his face, but I can feel his laugh rumbling against my back.
The world outside the pen blurs into vibrant colors and distorted hollering, and it feels like time stretches for us until the bull lurches to the side so harshly we’re thrown off, landing in a tangled heap, breathless and laughing.
“You okay?” Sutton asks after we catch our breath. He helps me stand and pulls me into a hug, squeezing his arms around me.
“That was amazing,” I exhale. My hat flew off at some point, and Sutton brushes loose tendrils of hair from my face.
The bachelor and bachelorette groups gathered during our ride, and we make our way to them, knees wobbly.
When Wells grins, he actually looks his age of twenty-three. “Quite the show,” he says, tightening his arm’s grip around Cassidy’s shoulders.
Sutton hugs me from behind again, planting a kiss atop my head. The adrenaline of the bull ride is replaced by the now familiar hum of electricity in me that accompanies Sutton.
Wells is still smiling at us approvingly.
“As if he could doubt us now,” Sutton murmurs, almost to himself.
The night carries on with a few more drinks, plenty of laughter, and of course, the occasional awkward comment from a bridesmaid. We eventually leave the bar and pile into Sutton’s truck, exhaustion settling over us. Sutton has apparently sobered up enough to take the driver’s seat. Cassidy is in the backseat with Wells. Within minutes, she is half-asleep against his shoulder. In similar fashion, Frankie, seated on my right, settles against the door. Even with everyone else’s eyes closed, Sutton reaches over and holds my hand the entire drive home.
When we finally get back to our room at the ranch, Sutton and I exchange tired grins, both of us too tired to do much more than kick off our shoes and collapse onto the bed. My adrenaline is beyond expended, and the energy from earlier in the night has dissipated, leaving behind a comfortable stillness.
Sutton reaches to the bedside table and grabs his prescription bottle. I snatch it from him. “You can’t take a sleeping pill if you’ve been drinking.”
He grabs it back, popping it open. “I didn’t have a drink all night,” he says, grinning enough for his dimples to carve into his cheeks. “And if I don’t take this, there’s not a chance in hell I’d get a blink of sleep tonight.”
Sure enough, soon Sutton is sound asleep, and I’m doing enough overthinking for the both of us.