Page 37 of Coming to Grips
The band begins playing again, but people are still staring. Chase has to get out of there. He pushes through the crowd and out the door. The hot humid air is like a wet blanket after the cool crisp air of the bar. The neon “Black Gold Dance Hall and Saloon” sign stretched across the roof casts a bright golden glow on the parking lot. He wipes his forehead and scans the lot for Kyle, but he’s nowhere in sight. It’s not really a big surprise.
Tears prickle Chase’s eyes and burn his nose. After everything they’ve been to each other, after everything that has happened this past couple of weeks, after the chance Kyle had taken revealing his feelings... What the fuck has Chase just done?
Dammit.
With a mouthful of angry, thoughtless words, Chase has just shoved everything back in Kyle’s face and then slapped him for good measure.
A whirlwind of self-loathing roils inside Chase. He needs to get home.
Oh, God, how’s he going to get home? Kyle’s left him at the bar—which is no less than he deserves at this point, but he still needs to get home.
Chase crosses the lot and stares at the empty slot where the truck had been. His brain spins... Should he call a cab? Should he walk? Should he beg a ride from someone else from the ranch? Who’d be willing to give him a lift after his awful display of cowardice? Because that’s what it boils down to. He’d been afraid to admit to the world that he loved Kyle in that way. In agayway. And how that must have gored Kyle’s heart like the horn from a raging bull.
He hears the crunch of boots a split second before he hears the voice. His heart leaps only to crash land on the gravel. He whirls around to find Bethany standing there.
“Hey, cowboy, need a ride?”
Sympathy laces her voice and expression. That’s something at least. She must have been inside. Will his humiliation never end? He’d better accept it now though. There are enough ranch employees in the bar that everyone on the ranch will know all the sordid details by morning.
“You sure you want to be seen with the biggest asshole in the state of Texas?”
“That would be Anna.”
He offers a facsimile of a smile and nods. “Not really, but thanks.”
He’s exhausted all of a sudden, and he just wants his bed.
“My car’s over here,” she says, leading the way to a small vehicle that reminds him of the Blueberry in the TV showPsych. Only hers is lime green. A nice little feminine car.
He wants the truck and he misses Kyle’s presence. His definitely masculine presence. Maybe Chaseisgay? He still doesn’t feel gay, but what the fuck else explains his feelings? Fuck. His head hurts.
The drive is silent save the murmuring of the radio at very low volume, which, he could swear is tuned to the same station Kyle prefers. Dammit. His heart hurts too. The glass of the passenger window is cool against his forehead, and he watches the darkness rush past.
Bethany pulls up to the cabin, but doesn’t turn off the engine.
“Thanks again,” he says and pops open the door. “I owe you one.”
She shakes her head. “If you need to talk...”
What’s there to say?I’m in love with my gay best friend, but I’m not gay, and we’ve already done gay things...
“Um, yeah, thanks.” He sounds like a fuckin’ moron. Well, he is a moron. With a nod and another half-hearted smile, he exits her car and shuts the door. She backs out and drives away, the purring of her engine quickly fading into nothingness.
