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She crossed her arms into herself and regarded me from the corner of her eye.
Click.
Where so far our “clicks” brought me nothing but unimaginable pleasure, that night I felt only crestfallen.
“Hey,” she said, interrupting my thoughts.
“Hmm?”
“You’re awfully distracted.”
I smiled at her. “I suppose I am. I’m sorry,” I apologized.
“It’s okay. Got a lot on your plate lately, I know.” She had no idea. “I don’t think the stresses of the ranch are very good for anyone, but especially for those with an already full plate.”
“No, it’s really okay. I actually love the ranch a lot,” I said, surprising even myself with that statement.
“You should tell Ellie as much. She would be tickled pink.”
I laughed. “Okay, I will.”
We were quiet for a few minutes, just watching the crowd and laughing at a few.
“I, uh, I finished your sculpture,” she told me, but her face never left the crowd.
My stomach plummeted to my feet then leapt into my throat. “Cool,” I said, feeling anything but.
She turned and studied me for a moment before returning her gaze back toward the crowd. “I think I’m gonna join the others,” she said, standing up and disappointing the crap out of me. I watched her take a few steps before turning back around. “Coming?”
I was surprised by her offer and stood to join her. I followed behind her and drank in her walk, determined to retain it so I could recall it for years to come. No one walked like Cricket Hunt. No one.
We joined the others, and just as I expected, I was the fifth wheel in that night’s scenario. After an hour of pity conversation with Cricket, I decided I’d had enough, and surveyed the girls around me. Not a single one could hold a candle to Cricket, but I wasn’t going to sit there and be miserable if I could help it, so I decided to ask a girl to dance, finally deciding on one from a group that had been staring at me all night.
I stood up and told everyone I’d be right back then headed the direction of the group. They did that stupid girl thing where they whisper frantically, then make a feeble attempt to be cool and collected when you’re within ten feet, as if we are blind until that ten-foot mark. The move almost made me turn back around, but I remembered what awaited me and trudged on.
“Hi,” I said to the blonde with the long hair.
She was tall and provocative and chose a more vulgar style compared to Cricket. Essentially, she was the antithesis of Cricket. She was what I needed to distract myself from the one I really wanted but couldn’t have.
“Hi,” she said in an irritating baby voice. I crinkled my nose a little in annoyance, but she didn’t catch on.
“I was wondering if you’d like to dance?” I asked.
She popped off her stool and unattractively tugged at her short skirt, then adjusted her breasts so that optimal cleavage was exposed. Girls, another little clue here: Only skanky guys want skanky girls. You’d be surprised what a little bit longer hem can get you in the long run.
She awkwardly tiptoed on her ridiculous heels to my side and leaned in way too close. I had to slant my head away just to talk to her.
“So, uh, are you from around here?” I asked.
“Uh-huh. I live in town.”
“Cool, cool,” I said wondering if that was all the answer I was going to get.
“I don’t even have to ask if you’re from around here. I can tell you’re not.”
We’d arrived at the dance floor and I placed a hand at the broad of her back to guide her, but she took my hand and pushed it to the top of her ass. I moved it up to the small of her back and sighed in exasperation.
“Uh, how do you know I’m not from around here?” I asked her as we swayed to the slow song.
