Maisie #2
Hunter plops down two glasses of whiskey, the pour even bigger this time.
My eyes blow wide, but, in the wise words of Lan and myself, fuck it.
I’m so used to living my life to everyone’s expectations, fitting into a little perfect box.
I want to experience what it’s like to let loose and live a little. For research purposes…obviously.
“Bottoms up, bitches!” Hunter shouts.
We shoot our shots back. It still burns, but thankfully, it doesn't have me wanting to hack up a lung. Progress.
Hunt places new beers in front of us. I take that as my cue to finish off the one I’m currently milking and slide it her way.
The bar starts to fill up again. Ches leads us over to a table so he can sit too. We sip our beers, taking turns making up background stories for each drunk patron. Each story gets more extreme.
I notice the ranch hands are back at the bar getting more drinks. I spot Jake snatch up two beers for himself and chuckle under my breath. He’s going to regret that tomorrow.
“I gotta take a leak. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” Ches calls over the music.
“So everything’s on the table then!” I shout back, watching him dance backwards towards the restrooms, his middle fingers up.
Alcohol buzzes through me, and my head bobs to the music. I’m the perfect amount of drunk to not feel anxious sitting alone. That is, until I spot a man across the bar making a beeline towards me.
He tips his hat at me in greeting. "What's a pretty thing like you doing sitting all alone?” he coos.
I point to Ches’ beer next to mine. “Not here alone, sweetheart.”
He puffs his chest out, more determined to win me over now. “You Ches’ girl?”
Oh, goodie. So he did see me sitting here with someone. He just chose to approach me when I was finally alone. I really hate men sometimes.
“What’s it to you? Just wanted to make sure I was alone before you swooped in. Thought it would give you a better chance at getting in my pants?”
“I don’t see a ring on your finger, honey.”
I flinch at the nickname. I don’t like the sound of it as much when it rolls off this man's tongue. I was secretly hoping Grayson would show up tonight. I was looking forward to seeing the more relaxed side of him. To my surprise, Ches mentioned he had an errand to run and wouldn’t be making it.
I find it odd that if it was Carl, I wouldn't even bat an eye. I’ve only just met the man, and I already feel a greater pull towards him than any man I’ve dated.
“I don’t need a ring to know I would never be interested in a man like you.” Personality aside, this man is very good looking, probably my type on paper. I could see myself checking him out from across a restaurant if the circumstances were different. That is, until he opened his fucking mouth.
“Well hold your horses. We’ve only just met. You haven’t even given me a proper chance yet.” He grabs my wrist to pull me up. “One dance with me, and I’ll have you changing your mind.”
“No thanks.” I try to pull my arm away, but his grip is solid. He isn’t hurting me per se, but it’s uncomfortable. And no means no.
His lips curl into a stupid smile, turning up his charm. “It’s harmless. Just one dance.”
I rip my arm away. “I would rather drag my lady bits across a hot plane tarmac than let it anywhere near you.”
“Jesus,” he scoffs, throwing his hands up.
My beer is back in my hand. I don’t hold back, taking two large gulps to wash away the feeling of his skin on mine. Ches walks back just in time with a pep in his step. He spots the man eying me and slaps him on the back.
“Walker, my man. How have you been?”
Walker spreads his stance, crossing his arms across his chest. “Doing alright. How about yourself? Things well on the ranch?”
I can’t believe he’s acting like nothing just happened, trying to chat it up with his ‘buddy’ he was trying to cross behind his back.
I slouch further into my chair, chasing down my feelings with the rest of my beer.
One could say I’m a wee bit drunk now. I hate being the person to make a scene in public, so I keep my lips sealed and let the boys chat it out while the alcohol buzzes over my skin.
Hunter notices my empty beer glass and slips another on the table, collecting my empty one. “This one’s on the house, babe.” She glares at Walker when she leaves.
Do I need another beer? Probably not. But it was free, so does it really count?
I drown out the boy's boring conversation, my attention drawn over to the dance floor. Old disco lights flash on the black and white checkered dance floor. People are lined up in rows, dancing to the music. It looks pretty fun, something I would probably try on a night I didn’t indulge in so much alcohol.
My thoughts wander. I imagine large, calloused hands grabbing me by the hips, leading me through the steps, the warmth of a body pressed up behind me. His body. Breath fanning on the back of my neck when he leans in, whispering dirty things in my ear like he always does when we are together.
“Grayson?” Ches says, a little confused.
My head snaps to Chesney’s, my pulse rising. Did I say that out loud? I don’t have time to dwell on the feeling before I track Ches’ eyes over my shoulder, looking at the door.
“Hey, man. I thought you said you couldn’t make—”
Thwack.
Walker hits the ground faster than I can track the movement. I jump from my chair, looking around only to come face to face with a seething Grayson. He’s vibrating on the spot, looking down at Walker like he wants to murder him.
“What the fuck, Grayson?” Ches yells, helping Walker back to his feet. His nose is bleeding, and he tries to stop it with his hand. It pours like a faucet down his arm.
“Touch her again, and I’ll kill you next time,” Grayson threatens, his chest heaving.
What the hell has gotten into this man? He barges in here like a knight in shining armor, and for what? What does he know? Why does he care? And what the hell happened with his ‘plans’ for the night?
“Excuse you?” Walker yells, spitting blood onto the floor.
Grayson takes a step towards him, pointing a finger at his chest. “You. Heard. Me. If I see you even lay a hand on a single piece of hair on her head, I will bury you so far under the ground, the wild animals won’t even be able to dig you up.”
“What the hell are you going on about?” Chesney asks.
Grayson whirls on Chesney, shooting him a menacing glare. “You were supposed to be protecting her. Where the fuck were you? Huh?”
Chesney grabs Grayson by the shoulders, trying to calm him down. “Whoa! Slow your roll. Calm down and tell me what the fuck is going on.”
Grayson shoves Chesney off him, reaching deep into his pockets with shaky hands to pull his phone out. He shoves the screen in Chesney’s face.
Chesney takes the phone, zooming in on the screen. “What the fuck?” he shouts, dropping the phone to swing a punch at Walker himself. “You put your hands on my baby cousin?” he shouts. He grabs Walker’s shirt and drags him to the door, leaving a trail of blood.
I gape at the three men. What the hell? I’ve never liked fighting—quite the opposite, actually. My hands tremble while everyone stares at us like we’re a soap opera. I’m used to being the one blending into the background, getting lost in the crowd. I hate this feeling.
Warm hands envelope mine, holding them steady. “Hey. Shhhh, you’re okay, honey. Breathe for me. Can you do that?” I nod, taking one large breath with him and then releasing it. “Good girl. Another one.” I let him guide my breaths in time with his until they even out.
I finally have the courage to look up at him. “Why did you do that? How did you know he touched me?”
I search his face for an answer, but then I realize the state he’s in. His face is a mangled, bruised, and bloodied mess. There’s a giant gash actively bleeding above his eye, dissecting his eyebrow. His pale face is swollen and bruised to shit.
I slowly reach up and brush my finger over the gash. “What happened?” I whisper.
He flinches when I make contact, turning from me. “It’s nothing.”
“Grayson, look at me. That is not nothing.” I point at his face. “Who hurt you?”
“I fell getting out of my truck,” he mumbles dismissively.
I don’t buy it for a second, but I drop it. I’m not getting anything out of him here. I change gears, hoping to get some other answers. “Why did you punch him?”
His eyes harden, his bloodied fists clench at his side. “He touched you, Maisie.”
My laugh is humorless. “Men can touch me. You aren’t my keeper, Grayson.”