Missy clocks the devastation on my face and doesn’t even bother to hide the satisfaction curling her lips. She loops her arm through his like she’s won. Like I was never in the running. And just like that, the moment shatters.
As if that weren’t enough, she twists the knife.
“I saw you with Trey Evans, Phern. You two are so cute together.” Her voice drops, syrupy and vicious. “Does he know your little secret?”
My stomach twists.
“Secret?”
Missy gasps, dragging a hand to her mouth in faux horror. “Oh no. Did I say that out loud?” She leans in with a stage whisper. “That you’re a virgin.”
Will’s eyes snap to mine, like he’s trying to figure out if it’s true. Humiliation rushes up so fast it chokes me. I wish the ground would split open and swallow me whole. But the earth stays cruelly intact.
“Where’d you hear that from?” I ask, my voice too steady to be real.
“Bonnie,” she says, shrugging one shoulder. “She’s my cousin, remember?”
Of course. Bonnie. The girl who used to braid my hair and knew every secret of mine. Guess that’s one she didn’t forget.
I debate whether to laugh it off, deny it, or just walk away and never stop. But before I can speak, Missy turns back to Will with a flutter of lashes.
“Let’s get out of here.”
I watch them walk away.
Missy, glued to his side like she belongs there. Will, silent. Still not looking back. Each step they take feels like a slap. Like every stupid thing I let myself hope in the last five minutes was just that. Stupid.
My throat tightens, but I force myself to stand still, to stay calm, to not crumble. I blink hard, willing the sting in my eyes to go away before it turns into anything worse.
God, I’m such a fool.
Of course that look and touch was just some fleeting moment of whatever-the-hell this is between us. The kind that only goes one way.
He probably says sweet things to all the girls who look at him like he hung the damn moon.
I wait until I’m sure they’re gone. Until their voices and footsteps disappear around the corner, swallowed by dust and distance before I let out a shaky breath.
“Whatever,” I whisper to no one.
Because maybe if I say it out loud, I’ll start to believe it.
I turn away from the barn, from the fence, from where it almost happened and didn’t. My boots crunch over gravel as I head back toward the arena, jaw tight, spine stiff. If anyone notices the way my hands are clenched at my sides, they’re smart enough not to say anything.
Fine. Let him do whatever he wants.
I have interviews to do.
And if I throw myself into work like my life depends on it? Well, that’s always been my specialty.
5
I manage to avoid Will for an entire week. A personal record, honestly. Sure, I spotted him once or twice from my window—ball cap low, boots dusty, looking like the walking embodiment of every thought I’ve tried to bury. But still, no contact. No run-ins. No smirking glances or conversations that leave me rattled for hours.
But there’s no dodging him tonight. Not when I’m supposed to meet Trey at Flowers End at nine.
Nerves churning, I grab my phone and text the one person I know won’t judge me no matter what I say.
Tish Garcia
