Page 37 of Hung Up
She lifts a brow. “So that’s what you’re going to tell everyone else, then.”
“Of course.” I give her a wink. “We’re both horrible liars, remember?”
“And what am I supposed to tell Rylie?” she ponders, still giving me that annoyed look I’ve grown very accustomed to. “She knows my middle name, dumb ass.”
“Play it off.” Faith gives me an incredulous look. “Oh, come on, Sweetheart. Don’t tell me you’ve never had to lie to your best friend before.”
She frowns, a deep crease forming between her brows. “Actually, not really.”
“Then I’ll do it for you,” I reassure her, placing both hands on her shoulders so she hears me clearly. “Now, tell me how great my ass is before I climb on that bull.”
Faith chuckles softly, her shoulders loosening slightly. “Okay, Pretty Boy. It’s a decent ass.”
“Only decent?” I stand upright and place a hand over my heart with an exaggerated gasp. “Please. This ass fits perfectly in your hands.”
“It’d fit perfectly in a raccoon's hands, you mean.”
This time, a laugh tumbles out of me without warning before I can stop it, and her laughter matches mine. She gently shoves my shoulders before gesturing backward with her head toward the chute. “Alright, cowboy. Let’s get you ready.”
As I begin my climb up to slip onto my challenge of the night—an all black bull named Smokin’ Gun—I notice that the stands are emptier than normal, which gives me some reprieve. While I was more than prepared for this ride thanks to Faith, there was that small part of me that knew I’d be embarrassed if I didn’t do well in front of a large crowd with her initials sewn into my ass.
They’d never let me live it down, that’s for sure.
Thankfully, it’s a pretty smooth ride tonight. Smokin’ Gun doesn’t buck as much as he usually does, instead opting for more circles as he tears around the arena. I leap off with the buzzer, watching as they usher him back through the gate before I turn and lock eyes with a pair of beautiful blue ones I can’t seem to stop searching for everywhere I look.
Once everyone is done and changed, I’m surprised to find that Kai, Lee, Bryce, and Wyatt—okay, just Kai and Lee—opt out of going to the bars and instead want to head straight back to the hotel.
“I’ll drive,” Faith announces as we all stand outside in a small group. “Wyatt can take the boys back to the hotel.”
“Children, you mean,” Rylie teases. “Who goes to bed before eleven these days?”
Lee crosses his arms over his chest. “Excuse me. We can’t all be young.”
“You can complain about your age when you’re thirty,” Wyatt retorts, spinning on his heel to leave us behind as he heads toward the parking lot with Bryce. “You idiots want a ride or not?”
Kai and Lee run after him, our laughter trailing behind them, before Rylie loops her arm through Faith’s. Stetson and I follow the girls to the vehicle, neither of us putting up a fight when we’re told we both have to sit in the backseat. Once she starts the car, the quiet hum of a country music radio station fills our ears, and I have to bite my lip to stop a smile from growing.
We’re growing on her.
Twenty minutes later, we’re pulling up to a bar, both girls climbing out before we can get the door for them—we are gentlemen after all. I reach for Faith’s hand, wanting to intertwine our fingers together, feel her soft skin against my rougher palms, but she pulls away and reaches for Rylie before I can protest. Stetson looks at me with raised brows, eyes full ofsuspicion, but I just shrug and follow the girls into our spot for the weekend.
Rylie drags Faith toward the bar faster than we can keep up, taking a brief moment to scan the space. The bar sits off to the right, covering the entire back wall, but no bar stools sit around it. Instead, it appears that all the dining tables have been pushed to the side, making room for a makeshift dance floor with a small stage that hosts a lone singer staring at a screen. When my gaze turns to Stetson, I see his eyes light up as two unforgiving words flash across the television: karaoke night.
“Absolutely not,” I tell him before he can even utter a word. “No. I’m not singing with you, so don’t even bother asking.”
“You’re such a buzzkill,” he grumbles after me as I turn to head to the bar, where I spot the girls throwing back a round of shots. “You had fun last time.”
I stop and turn to look at him. “No, you had fun getting me drunk and up on stage and embarrassing the shit out of me. Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twice?”
“You used to love karaoke.” Stetson now walks beside me, eyes drifting from my face to the people around us so he doesn’t bump into anyone.
“Don’t push it, kid.”
He punches my arm just as we reach the girls, only to find them taking a second round of shots. “We’re the same fucking age, Hayes.”
“What are you boys arguing about now?” Rylie asks, waving her empty shot glass at the bartender. He comes back with a bottle and fills their glasses before setting two more out for us.
“He won’t sing with me,” Stetson whines, and I can’t stop myself from laughing at how absurd it sounds hearing him say that to someone else. “It’s not often we stumble into a karaoke bar, and he won’t sing with me.”
