“Oh, I don’t know,” Brighton said, because she was an asshole. “I rather like a little verbal sparring as foreplay.”
A few laughs fluttered through the group, and Lola’s face flooded red.
“I prefer mutual respect and, as you said,courtesy,” she said. “For example, when someone is going to be late for an appointment or, I don’t know, not show up at all, a little heads-up is nice. You know”—here she smiled widely, showing all her teeth—“being a decent human being and all. Don’t you think so, Wes?”
He blinked. “Um, punctuality is…a trait I admire. I’m sorry,arewe talking about punctuality?”
Lola just laughed. “Something like that.”
Brighton opened her mouth, a real zinger on the tip of her tongue, something really mature, like where certain moles were located on Lola’s body, but she stopped herself just in time, turning away and biting her tongue.
“Fuck,” she said instead, because she had to saysomething, then realized far too late that she’d all but yelled the curse. Eyes latched on to her from all around, including Adele’s and Gemma’s. Brighton laughed it off, shrugging like the himbo Gemma undoubtedly thought she was. Still, the awkwardness was strong enough to motivate Brighton to get on her horse. She turned to face Cupcake, put her left hand on the saddle horn and her left foot in the stirrup, then hoisted herself on top of the beast.
Cupcake swerved a bit, but Brighton managed to stay on her back. Brighton’s entire body was shaking, and she was sure she was about to puke, but she’d done it. She was so high up, the world taking on an entirely different quality from this perspective. She couldn’t imagine moving through the snowy woods like this, but it was happening regardless.
Jenny, now astride her own magnificent beast, applauded everyone’s success and started modeling how to flick the reins and use one’s legs to get a horse going.
“Squeeze your thighs, lovebirds!” she called, which made everyone laugh.
Somehow, Brighton managed to direct Cupcake into a walk without falling off or throwing up. Two farm employees on huge black horses corralled the group on either side, keeping everyone together, with Jenny and Shannon in the lead.
The path was narrow enough that the Turtledovers, as Brightonhad chosen to think of them, had to merge into pairs. Somehow—call it fate or karma or whatever the hell—Brighton ended up riding alongside Gemma, with Lola and Wes right in front of them. Adele was next to Elle just ahead, and Brighton could hear Manish talking with Sloane behind her, saying something about how Nate kept calling him and the queer gods must hate him.
“At least I won’t break your heart,” Sloane said.
“I’d rather a little heartbreak if it gets me laid,” Manish said, and Sloane laughed.
“Look at our girl, though,” Manish said. “His name is Wes?”
Sloane must’ve nodded, then said, “He’ll be good for her.”
“He’d be good for anyone,” Manish said. “He’s hot.”
Sloane said something else but so softly Brighton couldn’t hear the words.
“Really now?” Manish said in response. “Interesting.”
“Oh, shut up,” Sloane said, louder this time, and Brighton felt herself straining backward a little to get a better listen.
“So,” Gemma said loudly, startling Brighton forward into her saddle. Cupcake gave a little jolt as well, and Brighton tightened her grip on the reins. She smiled, focused on the pretty dimple pressing into Gemma’s left cheek.
“Hi,” Brighton said.
“Hi,” Gemma said.
They fell into silence for a few seconds, which was honestly better than Brighton’s unhinged babbling about the sad state of her life. She thought about the dating apps she sometimes logged into, how most of the time, when you got a match, it was best to start off the conversation with some interesting question rather than the standard fare. She was just about to ask Gemma about her favorite board game when Gemma beat her to it.
“So what sort of music did you used to play?”
Brighton blinked, her thighs tightening around Cupcake. The horse sped up for a second, then slowed when Brighton yanked on the reins, finally settling next to Gemma’s horse again.
“Sorry,” Brighton said. “Um…just…you know, singer-songwriter stuff.”
“You played guitar?”
Brighton nodded.
“Why’d you quit?”
