Sarah
Ididn’t sleep much. I felt hot and cold like my clothes were sticky and dirty but I still wanted to crawl under the blankets. Mostly, I felt embarrassed. I didn’t understand what happened between Horse and me. I felt stung when he rejected my touch. I had little to no sexual experience, so I wasn’t exactly sure about men and penises, but from everything I’d ever heard, they liked to be touched. Why didn’t he want me to touch him? What had I done wrong? I tossed and turned for hours. Eventually, the bus stopped moving which meant we were in Los Angeles.
It was really early, so my guess was that everyone was still asleep. I decided I needed space, so I grabbed a hoodie and sunglasses and tried not to make a sound opening the door to my room. The aisle between the bunks was dark. I held my breath, moving as quickly and quietly as possible. Spatz was in the main cabin, laid out on the couch. He looked up at me as I came into the room and I quickly raised my index finger to my lips, signaling his silence. He smiled and gave me a little nod, and then I was out the door. I jogged down the street to the nearest corner where I was meeting a Lyft.
I’d been to LA for the first time a few months ago. The record label brought me here to record my album. I lived here for a month, so in some ways, it felt familiar, like a home away from home. I sat in the back of the strange car headed to OJays, which was my favorite coffee and breakfast spot when I was here. They served chocolate chip marshmallow pancakes and iced chai. The meal was decadent, loaded with all the ooey-gooey goodness a girl hung up on a guy could need. Normally, I would make idle chitchat with the driver, but I didn’t have it in me. I felt like if I started talking, I would ask a complete stranger if there was a wrong way to give a hand job.
The restaurant was mostly empty, probably because it was early. The waitress recognized me as a regular, not because she was a fan. I had always liked her. She reminded me of a woman named Hazel who owned the cafe on Main Street in my hometown. She was one of the reasons I liked to come here.
“Hey, long time no see,” she said.
I smiled at her. “Been on the road,” I said, not even knowing how to explain that I belonged here but also didn’t belong.
“That’s right. You’re a musician. Good tour?”
I nodded. “Big one.”
“Well, good for you, hun.”
“Thanks,” I said as she went to grab a menu. I signaled that I didn’t need one. Since the place wasn’t full, she gave me my choice of tables and I picked a table by the window. I gave my order right away and then just kinda stared out the glass pane, watching the world go by. When I had come to LA to record a few months ago, I was still sort of shell-shocked about getting signed and officially becoming a paid musician. Now, just months later, I was worried that I needed a hoodie and sunglasses if I wanted to avoid fans. I’m not saying that I was famous yet, but I was up-and-coming and since that critic in Nashville, my reviews were all stellar. I should have been over the moon about it all, but the only thing on my mind was a certain giant tattooed sourpuss.
Was it the fraternizing? Is that why he didn’t want me to touch him? He told me that we couldn’t fraternize, and then we did. Was he mad about that? Did he blame me for breaking that rule? If he did, that was crazy. He came to my room, got in my bed, and ground his really amazing erection into my behind.
Ugh, that was the worst part. I liked it. Actually, I loved it. I loved every minute of him and me. I loved the way his mustache moved when he chewed his food and the way he closed his eyes when he was writing music in his head. I loved it when he put his hand on the small of my back as we climbed into the bus and the way he always asked me if I had laundry when he was making a laundry stop. He was easy to have big feelings for, but what happened in the dark with him the night before was incredible and while it was about him, it wasn’t just about him.
I learned so much about my body, about the way I liked to be touched and the passion I could experience. I could literally start shuddering just imagining his hands, his lips on my skin. But also, he had introduced me to a version of myself that I didn’t know existed. She was the person who wanted to take risks, who wasn’t really afraid of what other people thought. She was a person who easily said, “Fuck that ‘no fraternization’ rule. I want us to fraternize.” I mean, I didn’t actually say any of that out loud, but I thought it. No, more than that, this bold, brazen woman was a part of my genetic makeup and I was always keeping her at bay, hiding her under aprons and inoffensive expletives. I never let myself be naughty, but maybe I liked naughty. He helped me see that I could be sexy… that I was already sexy. I just had to let myself embody the feeling.
So yeah, I loved it. Loved every dirty minute of feeling Horse’s hands between my legs, loved his fingers squelching my moans. In that moment, it felt like we were on the same page, like he was my partner in crime, breaking rules and boundaries. But now I wasn’t sure. In fact, I thought maybe it wasn’t that for him at all.
At the same moment that the kind waitress put my pancakes down in front of me, I heard my phone signal that I had a text message.
Horse: Where are you?
He was so blunt all the time. But that wasn’t me, so I typed, Went for coffee :). Then I erased it. I didn’t want to smile. I didn’t feel like smiling at him. I wasn’t interested in making him feel like everything was okay. So, I typed it again, only with no smile and hit send.
Me: Went for coffee.
Horse: Please find me when you get back. We need to talk.
He didn’t say anything else. Argh. I took a bite of my s’more style pancake and chewed intensely, irritated by his text. What did that mean?? In the movies, “we need to talk” was never good. He was going to tell me that we shouldn’t have fraternized. And maybe we shouldn’t have, but it was too late now. I couldn’t go back again. There was no playing Scrabble and grazing feet for me and Horse anymore. I wanted everything. I wanted him in my bed, not in a bunk outside my door.
I wasn’t even enjoying my pancakes.
My phone, which was now lying on the table next to my plate, alerted me to another text. My heart leaped, thinking maybe he was going to explain himself, but it was Sean.
Sean: Guuuurl, why am I on this bus by myself?
Sean and I often spent the day together. Unlike the rest of the crew, neither he nor I had much to do during load in. So, we blobbed around whatever city we were in. Sean always wanted to buy trinkets and I always wanted to find local eats. We’d actually had a ton of fun together and grown close. I considered him a friend.
Me: I was hungry, too hungry to wait for you to wake up.
I hated lying, but I wasn’t talking about Horse and me in a text message.
Sean: Where you at?
Me: OJays
Sean: I know it. See you in 15.
That was Sean. I didn’t invite him but he was coming anyway.
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