Chapter One
CASSIE
“I still can’t believe you’re going to a concert solo,” Avery says in my AirPods as I stand in my hotel room for the night. “I would never. I’d sooner die alone in my bathtub, covered in Cheez-It crumbs.”
I smooth the hem of my shorts, trying to decide if they sayconfident country cutieoremotional crisis in boots. “It’s not like I have a choice,” I mutter, grabbing the flannel off the bed. “I’ve always wanted to see the Dust Devils live. So I’m doing it. Alone. Like a strong, evolved woman. Who doesnothave a crippling fear of attending concerts solo.”
“Girl.” Avery’s voice is deadpan. “You’re wearing daisy dukes and a push-up bra. That’s not evolved. That’s bait.”
I grin and snap her a photo anyway—short shorts, low-cut white tank, worn-in boots, cherry-red lipstick, and a flannel tied around my waist in case the Iowa breeze turns wicked tonight. My cherry-brown hair falls in soft waves past my shoulders, and I’ve got just enough eyeliner to fake confidence.
“I mean, if I’m going to go alone, I may as well do this all the way,” I say, admiring myself in the hotel mirror. “This is also the year I stop half-assing everything. I’mwhole-assingthis.”
“You look hot,” Avery groans. “You also look like the plot of a country song waiting to happen. Please don’t end up in a truck bed with a stranger named Duke.”
“No promises.”
“Youdorealize you might meet someone at this thing, right?”
I scoff. “I’ll throw up in my mouth. I can’t stand men. I’m literally over them.”
“It’s been over three months since the breakup.”
“Exactly. And I made a vow. No relationships for a year. That’s what my therapist said, and for once, I agree. I’m in my self-healing era. I’ve deleted the dating apps. I saged my place. No thank you.”
“Okay, but…what about, like…a one-night stand?”
I blink at my reflection. “Avery. That’s not something I do. You know that’s not my style. Never have, never will.”
“You could use areset lay. Just press the button and poof—your ex is out of your system.”
“Is that…how that works?”
“It’sscience,” she says. “I read it in a book.”
“A book? Or on social media?”
“That’s not important.”
“Not my cup of tea,” I laugh, tightening my bootstraps. “Do you know how many orgasms I had to fake with Evan? It was like performing in a damn school play. ‘Oh wow, yes, that’s the spot—nope, that’s my kidney, but sure, keep going.’”
She laughs so loud I have to take one AirPod out for a second.
“I’m serious,” I say, grabbing my bag and heading for the elevator. “A one-night stand? That’s amateur hour. What if he’s bad in bed? Or worse—what if he cries after? Stalks me? Or—what if I misjudged how good he was in bed and regret it?”
Avery cackles again as I slip into the back of a dusty Lyft outside the Holiday Inn. “You aresucha Capricorn moon.”
“I feel like this is my Sagittarius rising coming out, though.”
“Whatever you are, go live a little. Buy a beer. Make out with a stranger. Touch a bicep or two. Live a little.”
“No promises,” I repeat.
The venue is exactly what I pictured when I booked the (ridiculously-expensive) ticket: a giant, fenced-in field with makeshift-beer tents, a local BBQ truck, and a stage so dusty it looks like it was assembled by the wind. The sun’s still out, golden and warm, but I can already see couples staking out space with lawn chairs and blankets. God, I should’ve brought a chair. Or a date. Or some self-respect enough tonotshow up to this thing alone.
I grab a hot dog and a beer and start walking the grounds, trying to look chill and mysterious and not like I’ve never done this alone before.
That’s when I feel a stare on me.
