Page 96 of Ride a Cowboy

“Seriously, dude? I’m not going to jump you, Joel, so you can stop looking at me like I’m some pervert waiting to catch you in a dark alley.”

“I’m not doing that.”

“Bullshit. You think I don’t see what you’re doing? We lay in bed with Sadie and the second I get too close to you, you back away. What I have isn’t catching, so you can take it easy. You’re not going to turn into some raging queer if you get too close.”

Joel scowled. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You don’t want me. I get it. Okay? You don’t have to keep ramming that fact down my throat. I’m choking on it already.”

Joel’s state of mind didn’t appear to be any better than his, which pleased Oakley more than he could say. He’d tried to be understanding, tried to walk away, tried to pretend Joel’s distance didn’t slice through him like a knife, but he couldn’t do it anymore. Couldn’t swallow his feelings, pretend like they didn’t exist.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Joel said.

Oakley laughed, the sound pure anger. “Fuck you, Joel.”

Joel’s eyes narrowed, the dark brown turning black. “Fuck me? Seriously? You fuck up everything. Everything! And you say ‘fuck you’ to me? No, Oakley. Fuck you!”

“What the hell did I fuck up?”

“We had a good thing with Sadie. Maybe it wasn’t perfect and maybe it wasn’t going to last forever, but for just a little while, we had her. With us. And it was fucking awesome! Then you…you…”

“Kissed you? Touched your balls? Licked your dick? Which part freaked you out the most?”

Joel exploded. A week of pent-up frustration just burst into flame.

And Oakley was ready.

Oakley only fell back two steps after Joel rushed toward him and shoved. He had enough time to plant his feet so that he didn’t actually fall down, but barely. Joel wasn’t holding anything back.

Never one to walk away from a fight, Oakley came back fast, his fist connecting with Joel’s jaw.

Joel had anticipated the punch, dodging in time to lessen the intensity. He retaliated with a hard right that caught Oakley on the cheek. He was going to have a black eye from that. Unwilling to be the only one to wear a mark of this fight, he threw another punch, pleased to see blood welling at the corner of Joel’s mouth.

After that, Oakley lost track of who landed what where. There was a flurry of dust, fists, curses, and pain—a lot of fucking pain. Joel was a scrappy fighter, and he was inflicting some serious damage. Not that Oakley wasn’t holding up his own end pretty damn good.

The whole thing ended in an instant when they were hit by a blast of ice-cold water.

They fell apart and looked over to find Coach standing next to them with an empty bucket and an expression like thunder.

“What in blue blazes are the two of you doing?!” Coach roared.

Oakley bent over at the waist, holding himself up with his hands on his knees, trying to recover from Joel’s last punch, a hard one right to the gut.

Joel was wiping the blood dripping from his nose with his sleeve. “Nothing.”

Oakley would have rolled his eyes if the left one didn’t hurt like a mother. He could tell without a mirror it was swelling shut fast.

Yeah. Coach was definitely not going to let that non-answer fly.

“Try again, Joel,” Coach said, through gritted teeth.

“It was a misunderstanding,” Joel added.

Oakley snorted mirthlessly. “No, Joel. I’d say we understand each other just fine.” He needed to get out of here, away from all this bullshit. It was starting to eat at him like a cancer. “Sorry about this, Coach. Things got a little out of hand. It won’t happen again.”

With that, Oakley limped back to the bunkhouse. He needed a shower. And then he needed a fucking drink.

“Come with me,” Coach said, crooking his finger at Joel, and then pointing toward the main house.

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