Page 64 of The Outsider

She’d never been in these kinds of parking lots. Never been on the outside about to go in. She’d lived on fringes her whole life. And the truth was, even living with her dad, she’d been alone.

Even when she’d been with her dad and her brother, there had been no loyalty. No trust. No... love.

She’d never ached for it, because she’d been too busy aching for food. She’d been too busy aching for security and shelter and safety.

Now she was about to be part of something. Something normal.

She wanted it.

Felt full to bursting with it.

Bix from a month and a half ago would’ve rejected this. She would have curled in on herself and said she didn’t need it. She would have hidden away and said she didn’t need community or to fit in. She felt like she was learning different things about herself. But it was amazing how much more expansive her feelings were now that she wasn’t simply in survival mode.

He grinned, and reached his hand out to her, taking it in his. She blinked, looking down at where their palms touched. With their fingers locked together. Not that long ago, Daughtry’s hand had touched hers as he led her out to the dance floor. And it had ignited a flame in her gut that hadn’t gone out.

She was hopeful, for a full thirty seconds, that this might stoke that fire. That maybe she was just starved for touch in general, and this would help her out.

That Michael would be just as good as Daughtry. And some other guy down the line would be just as good as Michael. Normal, casual dating, casual touching and kissing. For a moment, she had a brief fantasy of that life. Of something breezy, that you might see on a TV show. A single woman cycling through a seriesof easy dates, learning how to navigate relationship waters without ever getting hurt too badly—or at least getting her deep enough that it couldn’t be solved by a pint of ice cream.

Except she didn’t feel anything. Except his skin. And just like that, the fantasy vanished.

How inconvenient.

Still, she didn’t pull away from him. She let him lead her into Smokey’s Tavern.

He pushed the door of the old wooden building open, and they went inside. It was dim, with a surplus of neon lighted signs, a big old-fashioned jukebox in the corner. There were bright red vinyl-covered stools in front of a rough-hewn bar. It was like a nineteen fifties diner had crashed into a country outpost. And somehow, she found it... well, fascinating. It smelled like alcohol, and people were dressed their best.

There was a woman behind the bar with an ornate flower tattoo on her arm, her makeup strong, her dark hair teased big. She was stunning and intimidating and looked like she’d cut someone if they messed with her.

Bix loved her instantly.

There were women in the corner with big curly hair and rhinestone belts. Cute tie-front T-shirts that showed off their belly button rings and cleavage. Glittering cowgirls there to find a cowboy.

And right then, Bix felt drab. She didn’t have fake eyelashes or shiny lips. She didn’t have their easy confidence or easy, seductive smiles.

She glanced at Michael. He was definitely looking at the group of women.

Her eyes adjusted to the dimness of the bar, and she looked around more broadly. There were just cowgirls on the prowl. There were cowboys.

Tall, broad and handsome, some less tall, less broad. Quite a few that were less handsome. But pretty much every single man in there was a cowboy.

Either ranch hands from Four Corners, or the nearby ranches, and she had a feeling some had even come from elsewhere, since she didn’t get the sense that the population of Pyrite Falls was quite this robust. But the whole area was rural, so it would make sense that this would be a gathering place for people from neighboring communities as well.

Bix had never gotten to go to college. Hell, she’d never been to a day of real school in her whole life. But she felt like she was in a sociology class right now. Studying a foreign culture that she knew nothing about.

There was flirting and talking and dancing. And she almost didn’t know where to look. “I’ll get you a drink,” said Michael. “What do you like?”

She blinked. “Oh. A Coke.”

His eyes lifted. “A Coke?”

“Yeah. We deal with beer all day,” she said. “I don’t need any more.”

He laughed. “Suit yourself.”

Bix felt the back of her neck prickle, and she turned. At the corner to her back right were the King brothers. And right in the center was Daughtry.

He was looking at her, his gaze intense.

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