Page 62 of Hung Up
She slams the door in my face again, and I feel myself deflating.Yeah, I deserve that.As I make my way to the locker room to grab my things, I can’t help but think of one of our firstinteractions when she had said the exact same thing to me. Who would’ve thought we’d end up right back where we started?
She’s right. I said what I said and I need to own it. Even though a very small part of me feels that way, it’s still a feeling I have. I can’t take that back. All I can do is try to make it up to her.
And since we’ve ended up back where we started, maybe it’s time I go back to my very first move.
23FAITH
SIOUX FALLS
who said I was yours?
I was tossingand turning all night. I couldn’t stop replaying my moment with Jesse. The way he put the blame on me didn’t really surprise me—I knew he was having a tough time with the whole friends-with-benefits thing and then his injury, so him needing someone to lash out on was inevitable, and it made sense that it be me. He was willing to take my anger once before, I could do it for him—even if I did snap back and tell him not to blame me.
But him saying he wants to back out of our arrangement hit me harder than I thought.
He knew what he was getting into when we started this. We both did. And somehow I’m the only one who could take a step back, reevaluate my feelings, put a lid on it, and step back into this thing with him with a clear and level head.
Yet, have I? Or am I just lying to myself?
I found myself going crazy when my texts went unanswered after we left Albuquerque. I blew up Kai’s phone in hopes that he had heard from Jesse, only to discover that he had gone radiosilent on everybody. There was even a point where I was looking up how long a drive it was to Aspen Creek. I had no idea where their ranch was, but I knew if I asked anyone in town, they could tell me.
I had my bags packed and everything, but Rylie talked me out of it.
Not knowing how he was doing was torture. I knew he’d still come to the arena—the last thing he would do is fail to show up and support his friends. But when I heard he had pulled a bull to ride, I was hit with so many emotions that it took me by surprise. Anger, sadness, fear.
I wasn’t lying when I told Rylie I cared about Jesse. I do, there’s no denying that. But I care for all the bull riders and their well-being.
But the way that his words hit me last night, how angry I was when he put that blame on me, and how disappointed and sad I became when he said he wanted to put an end to us, I realized maybe I do care about him in a different way than the others.
However, I’m the only one who seems able to keep that locked down.
A knock on the door pulls me out of my thoughts. When I pull it open, I see a worker holding a bouquet of daisies. I have half a mind to reject them or throw them away, but I find myself carrying them into the room and setting the vase down on the dresser. The card is staring at me, begging me to open it, and I can’t seem to resist.
I’m not one to make excuses, so I won’t give you any. I’m sorry. Please forgive me.
I stare at the card for a minute, trying to wrap my head around it. Do I fully believe he’s sorry? Yes, I do. And will Iforgive him? Most likely. But what’s still up in the air is where we stand. Will we continue our deal, or won’t we?
Everyone always says to listen to what someone says when they’re drunk or angry—that is when their real feelings will surface. And Jesse made it perfectly clear in his anger that he doesn’t want to keep sleeping with me.
Now it’s just a matter of whether I’m strong enough to make him stick to his word, or if I’ll cave the second he says he wants me.
Due to an issue with the arena—Rylie texted to say there’s some kind of scandal going on, while Wyatt claims there was some problem with the lighting and sound system—rides were canceled for tonight, meaning everyone ended up downtown to go bar hopping.
Of course Maxine dragged me out of my hotel room, not taking no for an answer. So here I am, in a crowded bar I don’t want to be at, surrounded by bull riders I would rather not talk to, in the lounge clothes that she told me were fine to go out in—leggings, a white crop top, and my hair up in a messy bun.
God, sometimes I wish I could just say no.
“Come on, Faith. Loosen up,” Maxine says as she shoves a glass into my hand. “You look like you just had a fight with your boyfriend or something.”
“Or something,” I mumble, bringing the straw to my lips and taking a sip. A vodka soda, because hard liquor is exactly what I need tonight.
“What was that?”
I wave it off. “So, how’s work going for you?”
“Amazing,” she states, brightening with excitement as she turns to give me her full attention. “I never thought I’d like photographing bull-riding, but I’ve gotten some really amazing shots so far this season. My portfolio is going to blow everyone else out of the water.”
“I’m happy for you.”
