Page 1 of Possessive Cowboy

1

Raina

“This is insane.I don’t know how I let you talk me into this.”

“Oh, would you relax?” Abby, my best friend, says through the phone. “It’s not like you’ve never gone on a first date before.”

“This is different,” I say, glancing around the crowded bar.

I’m looking for Maverick, the larger-than-life cowboy who said he’d meet me at ten o’clock and who is now…ten minutes late.

“How is it different?” Abby asks. “You’ve used dating apps before.”

“Datingapps, Abby,” I say. “And you and I both know that Hush isn’t a regular dating app. It’s a…”

I glance around to make sure nobody is eavesdropping on my conversation. But of course, no one is. The bar is too crowded and loud anyway, and aside from that, nobody is looking my way. As usual. Which is why I got into this stupid Hush app situation in the first place.

“It’s a what?” Abby asks impatiently.

“It’s a…sex app,” I whisper into the phone.

“Oh please,” Abby says. “They’reallsex apps, Raina. This one is just more honest about it than the others are. Personally, I feel like it’s nicer that way. Refreshingly straightforward.”

“Straightforward. Yeah. That’s one way of putting it,” I say.

I think about the Hush’s crude process of asking you to complete a checklist of physical attributes you prefer in a sexual partner. Tall, short, skinny, fat, muscular, hairy…and a few other metrics about a certain male appendage that made me feel like I was online shopping for a dildo instead of searching for a sexual partner, an actual human being to interact with.

“Objectifying” doesn’t even begin to describe the whole ordeal. Worse? I had to upload details of my own physical attributes.

That’s right. Down to my height, dress size, and the cup size of my bra. Along with photos of myself in my underwear. Sure, my face wasn’t in any of the photos, and no actual nudity was in them either. But I’m not exactly confident in my body as it is. Taking photos in bright lighting, documenting every inch of myself for strangers on an app to judge?

Yikes.

Ordinarily I hide beneath baggy clothing, happy to be a wallflower. But Hush’s process doesn’t lie. It forces you to put everything out there - the good, the bad, and everything in between.

No photo filters allowed, either.

Look at me, internet strangers! Do you like what you see? These dimpled thighs, this stomach roll, these faded stretch marks on my boobs?

“Look at it this way,” Abby says. “At least you know for a fact that this Maverick guy likes what he saw.”

“Apparently,” I reply.

“And you liked whatyousaw, right?” Abby asks.

I laugh.

“What’s not to like? He’s tall and buff. He looks like he could pick me up and toss me around with one arm. Assuming that his photos are real, of course.”

“They looked pretty authentic to me,” Abby says.

I shift in my seat, looking around the bar for the man named Maverick.

“I don’t know,” I say. “I keep wondering if maybe he’s some guy who enjoys matching with fat girls on the app using a fake identity, and then standing them up for dates just to mess with them. I mean, why the hell would a man who looks like that want to hook up with me?”

“Oh, would you stop it?” Abby sighs. “Raina, I know your confidence is totally shot since you and John broke up last year…but it’s getting tiring listening to you beat yourself up constantly. I mean, don’t get me wrong: I love you, and I’m here for you always. But I also think you need a kick in the pants right now. You’re in a rut and you need something, orsomeone, to help you get out of it.”

“I’m sorry, Abby,” I reply guiltily. “I’m not trying to be a Debbie Downer. I’m just so nervous.”

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