Page 113 of Chasing the Wild
Chy spots someone she obviously knows, because she starts making squealing noises and flapping her hands, and even though it’s a monumental effort to squeeze out of the booth considering her stomach, she croons something and smooshes Kayce’s face, practically licking him, before heading toward a group of girls who look almost identical to her.
All of them have weird bleached patches in their hair. Half of them are also pregnant. And they’re out in a bar. Go figure.
“You coming, old man?” Kayce drops an arm over my shoulder when I stand up, glancing over at the man I want to rush back to, who remains seated in the booth.
Colt quickly fixes on the spot where his son’s forearm rests around the back of my neck, and I duck my head. Not wanting to give a reason for Kayce to think any of his father’s decisions revolve around me. They don’t.They shouldn’t.
But fuck, I want them to. So badly, it aches.
“You go. The Hayes boys are over there. I should catch up with them.”
Following the direction he just gestured in with his beer bottle, I see a group of men, ones who look closer in age to Colt, tucked away in the far corner of the bar. They’re seated on stools around a high top, in a part that is still incredibly busy but with the greatest distance from the music and the dancing as possible.
“Sweet, then let’s fucking go, Layla.” Before I can get my bearings, Kayce has taken me by the elbow and tugged me off into the crowd, and I lose sight of my cowboy almostimmediately when the throng of people around the bar swallows me up. With a little stumble, I manage to throw one last glance over my shoulder, casting a look back at the booth where we were sitting moments before.
It’s already empty.
“Shots for the birthday girl.Layla fucking Birch.”
“Yeowwwwww.”
“Down it, girl.”
There’s a chorus of noise from the group of strangers around me as I toss back something that looks cherry red and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. It burns a trail of cinnamon mixed with hard liquor down my throat.
Kayce’s group of buddies are all here for a big night out it would seem, and as much as I don’t want to be dropping shots at the bar with strangers—there’s only one man I wish to be next to, and he has vanished into thin air—the allure of numbing myself has taken over.
My life is a train wreck, so why not cut loose and get drunk like the other twenty-something-year-old girls filling this bar tonight?
Alcohol settles in my veins like a warm blanket. I think I’m on shot three? Another is pressed into my hand, and I giggle involuntarily.
“God, no. I can’t.” There’s a nice-enough seeming guy and his girl who have been matching me round for round.
“Wanna dance instead?” The girlfriend with short brown hair tied in a half pony, and big hoop earrings, grabs my hand.
“Sure.” I’m still laughing. Alcohol has gotten the better of me, after the weird tension of tonight, and the fact I can’t even remember the last time I went out partying, all of which combines to make me a total lightweight.
I think this girl’s name is Mary. Or maybe Mandy? Whatever, she seems cool, and I let her drag me off into the crowded tent outside. There are other friends of hers she side-hugs and shouts their names to introduce me over the noise of the band, but the bass and the speakers are right beside us, and we’re in the thickest part of all the bodies moving in time with the song being played.
It’s sweaty and packed, and it’s tempting to get lost in the feeling of being more drunk than I realized, while also trying to enjoy forgetting about everything.
Trying to forget the hazel eyes and scruffy beard and boyish, unruly dark hair I want to sink my fingers into.
Jesus.
Of course, the mixture of shots, loud music, and being crushed in on all sides by bodies means that I’m horny as fuck and desperately want to go find Colt. I know he’s still here, he’s our ride home—no, not home, the ranch.
The ranch that is not my home, but that I want to be my home, that feels more like home to me than anywhere I’ve ever lived in my entire life.
Words swirl in my brain. The song peaks, and the crowd around me rolls into a crescendo, belting out the words to the final bars, with hands thrown in the air, and then I think I hear the lead singer say they’re wrapping up their set. Suddenly, the lights dim, and the speakers start pumping with a heavier, deeper beat. The atmosphere changes in the blink of an eye into more of a nightclub feel, and Mandy—or Mindy—or Mary—grabs me by the waist, dragging me into a crush of her friends who sway to the seductive, thudding rhythm.
My body is already feeling turned on and churned up, and this sultry tune isn’t helping the situation between my thighs. I close my eyes and let myself float along with this group of girls who I don’t even know, but who are here to have a good time. If there’s anything I need to do right now, it’s just to willingly slip into that vacant state.
Have a good time.
Forget about everything outside this crowded dance floor.
Allow myself to feel every thud, every pulse, every pound of the bass emitting through the speakers.
