Page 20 of Ace of Spades
“Birthday girl, birthday girl,” she chants, the rest of the crowd joining in.
I shake my head, making my way to the starting line, knowing damn well that she won’t let me get away with not taking a turn.
Some guy that I had gone to high school with—Stetson, I think—hands me a solo cup filled to the brim as I take off my boots, planting my bare feet in the sand as I get myself into an athletic stance.
Adrenaline floods my veins as I feel all eyes on me, my heart racing a mile a minute as Ava starts the countdown.
“GO!”
I bring the cup to my lips, chugging the cool liquid with a swiftness that I didn’t even know I had, downing the entire thing as beer trickles down my chin and all over my chest before throwing it over my shoulder and taking off. I can’t hold back mylaughter as I race as fast as I can, slipping and sliding in the cool sand until I crash across the finish line.
“Way to go, Hailey!” Ava cheers, the crowd going wild.
Music blares from the speakers, the arena lights illuminating all of us as we dance, mingle, and play some more drinking games. At some point in the night, I realize I’m well and truly buzzed, catching up with one of the girls that I hadn’t seen since leaving Canyon Springs four years ago, when Kinley and one of her blonde friends—whose name I don’t remember—runs up to me.
“Hailey!” she exclaims, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and taking a drink of her canned cocktail. Kinley was from Cedar Creek, I knew that from briefly meeting her on the circuit, but I couldn’t quite place where I knew her friend from.
“Hey, Kinley.”
“So we were thinking we could bring some of the horses out and get some real drinking games going.” Her friend asks. “Have you heard of that game where we put a beer on each barrel and the rider has to run the pattern while grabbing and chugging each one? How much fun would that be!”
“Um,” I start, shrugging out from under Kinley’s arm to face her friend. “Yeah, I’m sure it would be, but I’m not bringing any of the horses out tonight with this many people here.”
“Why not? You bring them to rodeos with bigger crowds than this,” she pushes.
“Look, I’m not bringing them out when we’ve all been drinking, I’m sorry,” I tell them, hoping that they would drop it after that.
“Totally get it,” Kinley tells me, her friend not seeming to have the same reaction.
“Ugh, you’re such a buzzkill,” she tells me, rolling her eyes as she turns to walk away. The attitude didn’t surprise me, coming from someone who grew up here and most likely isn’t a fan of mine, but what did surprise me was the audacity that came next.
“No wonder Brad said you were bland,” she mutters, turning to walk away. Kinley looks between the two of us, offering me an apologetic glance before following after her friend.
“Excuse me?”
I was far from a conformational person. If anything, I was the type to let things slide way too often in hopes of not starting unnecessary drama. But after the day I had earlier, and the few drinks I had–not to mention the fact that it was my birthday, at my house–I didn’t have it in me to keep my mouth shut.
“I said,” she turns around, looking me in the eyes and not backing down in the slightest. “Bradley called you bland. I think the word vanilla also came up, actually.”
The people around us turn their attentions towards the commotion, and it finally clicks where I recognized her from—she was the blonde that Brad had his arm around at the bar in Texas back in January, the first rodeo of the season.
“And when exactly was this?”
A downright bitchy smile curves at her lips, nothing but pure malice, and it became clear she was loving every single second of this.
“Back at his hotel in Texas, right after he got done fucking my brains out,” she says with a saccharine smile, and I feel bloodrushing to my ears. “Right after he told me all about how you’re a prude and he only keeps you around because of who your parents are.”
“You fucking—” I lunge at her just as two strong arms wrap around my middle, lifting me off of the ground and pulling me back as Kinley’s friend begins laughing.
“Get out of here, Kelly,” Weston speaks from behind me, his voice oozing command.
“You too, Kinley—get her the fuck out of here,” Rafe adds from somewhere behind me.
“Let me down!” I yell at Weston, trying to kick my way out of his arms to no avail.
“Whatever, this party was getting lame anyways,” the blonde—Kelly—says, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she and Kinley make their way out, everyone turning back to their conversations as the party continues around us.
“I said let me down, Weston! Now!”
