Page 48 of The Dallas Dilemma

I love how you’ve just assumed I’m a man. Just as clueless as I always knew you were, Buckaroo.

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As soon asI tap the icon to post the message, Dallas’ phone chimes again. A shiver of apprehension races down my spine as I look over at him. He has a perplexed look on his face as he stares down at the screen.

“Is everything okay?” I ask, my voice cracking on the words as all the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

“It’s nothing. Just this guy who’s been trolling me on Cackle for the last year.”

I freeze as all the blood drains from my face. “A guy?”

Dallas doesn’t notice my reaction because he’s still looking at his phone. “Yeah, well, I always thought so. He…or she, I guess, just called me out for assuming they’re a man.”

Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God.

Dallas is Bodacious Buckaroo. Bodacious Buckaroo isDallas. What the fuck?

I shoot to my feet. “I’ve got to go.”

He drops his phone to the couch and stands, too. “What? Why?”

“I, uh, forgot I have lunch plans with my sister today. I need to go get ready.”

He’s obviously disappointed, but doesn’t seem suspicious despite my nervous behavior. “Oh, okay. Well, text me when you’re done. I’d love to see you again this afternoon.”

My head bobs erratically, and I stiffly return the hug he gives me. I pull away before he can move in for a kiss goodbye. I vaguely recall that I’m still wearing nothing but his t-shirt, but it’s long enough on me that if anyone sees me dart across the hall, they won’t reallyseeanything.

I pretend I don’t notice the hurt and confusion on his face, spin around, and grab my purse off the table near the door before rushing out and slamming the door behind me. Luckily, there’s no one in the hall as I fly across to my own door. Yanking my keys out of my bag, I fumble twice trying to unlock the damn thing before I finally succeed and rush inside. Slamming it shut, I twist the lock and lean back against the door, breathing hard.

Dallas is Buckaroo. What am I going to do?

Dropping my bag, I tap at my phone’s screen to pull up my text thread with the girls and type out a message.

Me:911. I need you. Can we meet at your house, Callie? Is Royal there?

Thankfully, I don’t have to wait long for a response.

Callie:He is, but I can kick him out, no problem. What’s wrong? Are you okay?

Me:No. I’m not okay. I’ll explain everything when I get there. Thank you!

As I stalk toward my bedroom, Twila and Raven text that they’ll be there, too. I send a quick thumbs-up emoji before tying my hair up and taking the fastest shower in the history of showers. After pulling on some sweats, a hoodie, and some flip-flops, I grab my phone, keys, and purse before sneaking out of my apartment as quietly as possible. I don’t breathe until I’m safely inside the elevator,alone, and the second it opens on the first floor, I rush out and don’t stop running until I reach my car.

As I drive toward Callie’s apartment, my mind starts to spin. I recall Dallas telling me about his break-up, which was about a year ago. Bodacious Buckaroo’s cynical anecdote that started my beef with him was posted about a year ago.

Shit.He was heartbroken and venting, and I was an asshole to him. A complete and total asshole.

Now that I know what he was going through, how his girlfriend and almost-fiancée broke up with him because he didn’t “complete” her or feel like her other half, his post back then makes perfect sense. And knowing the actual man behind the Cackle handle, the man I’ve been falling for,hard…

If he figures out I’m JoeyB, he’ll want nothing more to do with me.

I’m out of the car the second I pull into a parkingspot. I rush up to Callie’s apartment, knocking incessantly until she pulls the door open. I rush inside without greeting her and plop down on the couch between Raven and Twila, who obviously beat me here. Closing my eyes, I try to even out my breathing. My anxiety and the physical exertion of running are not a good combination.

When I open my eyes, the three of them are staring at me with concerned expressions. I open my mouth to tell them I’m okay, but I can’t get the words out.

I am not okay.

“I slept with Dallas last night,” is what flows through my lips when I finally find my voice. “And again this morning.”

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