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MACKENZIE
“Are you okay?You seemed really out of it today,” Ginger tells me.
We’re leaving Gabby’s cabin where we have our dirty book club meeting. The women of Courage County gather frequently to discuss their favorite naughty reads. Normally, I’m a pretty active contributor to the conversations. I love smutty books and talking about them with my best friends. But I guess Ginger picked up on the fact that I wasn’t quite feeling up to it.
After last night, I laid awake in my bed and listened to every creak and groan in my house. I kept waiting for Ace to show up, kept wishing he were there to wrap his strong arms around me so I could fall asleep against him.
I know it’s crazy, but the feeling of rejection lodged itself deep in the pit of my stomach. I know he came. I could hear it when he moaned and swore under his breath. It’s not that I feel used. It’s that I wanted something more. I wanted more than a quick orgasm. I wanted intimacy with Ace. It was my mistake, and I know that.
“I’m fine,” I tell Ginger with a bright smile as the sun finally dips low. It’s painting the mountain in bright hues of orange, making our beautiful town look like it’s made of gold. I think maybe it is. I think Courage County is magical. At least, it’s always felt that way to me.
She scowls and tugs on my arm, pulling me away from the other women and toward her car. “Tell me.”
To my embarrassment, I have to blink back tears. I let the story flow freely holding back none of the juicy details.
Ginger won’t tell anyone. She runs a sex-positive podcast online. She’s all about encouraging women to explore their sexuality. If anyone will be supportive, it will be her.
She frowns when I finish telling her the whole story. “What do you want in all of this?”
“Ace,” I whisper. “I’m not sure he feels the same way about me.”
“Oh, he feels things for you,” Ginger says.
A spark of hope tries to light up in my chest, but I quickly stomp it down. She might think that, but it doesn’t mean it’s true.
“I think I need to find another guy.” The thought makes me feel like my chest is caving in. There’s no blood in my veins anymore. It’s syrup, sticky and unmoving. “But I don’t want anyone else.”
She cocks a hand on her hip. “Do you trust me?”
I nod miserably. Ginger has some great advice and hanging out with her has led to some amazing times. She makes life fun for everyone. I think maybe that’s because she was a foster kid, and she tries hard to make people like her.
She gives me a grin. “Let me help you with this.”
* * *
I gazeat the warehouse with the pulsing lights and thumping music. People are coming and going into the club in a steady stream. In the parking lot, they’re laughing and swaying as they guzzle their cheap beers and stagger to their cars for late-night hookups.
There’s no sign, but I know without being told that this is Vortex. It’s a nightclub in a town not far from Courage County. I’ve never been here, but I’ve heard the rumors. Wild stuff happens inside this place.
“Do you remember when you said you trust me?” Ginger asks.
I swallow and wipe my damp palms down my too short dress. I’m more of a blue jeans and T-shirt kind of girl. Put a hammer in my hand, and I’m happy.
Ginger came by after work. She brought a dozen dresses and outfits, making me try on several until she found a black minidress that makes my short legs look incredibly long. It has a deep V-neck that makes it look like I have tits instead of my flat chest. She insisted that I skip a bra to draw even more attention to my body.
She had me pair the dress with fashionable ankle boots before she did my hair and makeup. The bright red lipstick is a color I wouldn’t have normally chosen, but I have to admit. I’m rocking this look.
“I’m not good at the flirting thing,” I admit and shrink deeper into the seat of her car. The truth is that I want to call this off. I want to go back home and putter around in my garage and pretend that my heart doesn’t ache every time I think about Ace.
“Five minutes and then the best thing ever will happen,” Ginger promises in a sing-song voice like she knows a secret she’s not telling me. She flicks on a light and pulls down the visor to re-apply red lipstick to her face.
“I don’t want to get hit on by some frat boy,” I complain.
She rolls her eyes. “That’s not the best thing ever.”
“Then what is it?” I demand, my patience wearing thin. I should have stayed home. I have chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream in the freezer. I have smutty books and a great vibrator. This night could be so much better by myself.
“You’ll find out what the best thing ever is,” she says with a cryptic smile as she leaves the car without looking back for me.
