Damn it. I had to stop thinking like that.
“You’re next, Jameson,” Scarlett said.
I took a shot and people gathered around to get theirs. When the trays were empty, we all held them up. I wasn’t one to speak up like this on most occasions, but this was different.
“To Leah Mae,” I said, lifting my glass.
“Leah Mae!” everyone replied.
We all tossed back our shots. Leah Mae watched me with a smile on her face. I put the glass down and licked my lips. That whipped cream got everywhere. She still had a little bit of it on the corner of her mouth. Knowing I probably shouldn’t, I reached over and rubbed her lip with my thumb to get the last of it.
She bit her lip and touched her mouth with her fingers. “Thanks. You, um… you have a little bit here.” And then it was her thumb sliding across my lip. That little touch made my heart race and a rush of heat hit my groin.
The music started again, and Jonah handed us each a beer. A few couples started to dance, and someone called for another blow job, earning laughs from the people standing nearby.
Cassidy and Scarlett pulled Leah Mae over to the other side of the fire. Talking girl stuff, I reckoned. I hung back and sipped my brew. Watching.
A new song came on and I cringed. It was Brock Winston. I could tell by the look on Leah Mae’s face that she’d noticed. After the first few lines, the rest of the party seemed to realize who it was, too. A chorus of boos rose up, drowning out the music. Leah Mae laughed again and met my eyes. I gave her a little wink.
By the time the boos stopped, someone had changed the song. Gibson sat near the fire and strummed along on his guitar. Bowie sat near Gibs, staring across the way at Cassidy Tucker. As usual. I shook my head, but I wasn’t one to criticize. I was the one stupidly falling for a girl who could never be anything but a friend.
Figured. I’d kinda wondered if I was too broken to love someone. Maybe I’d done such a good job keeping people out, I’d never left a space to let someone in. Too bad the first time I thought it might be worth the risk, the girl belonged to someone else.
I watched her over by the fire, a beer in her hand. The light of the flames reflected off her smooth skin. Flickered in her eyes. She smiled, and my chest felt like it might collapse in on itself. She was just so damn beautiful. It wasn’t fair. I’d never had a chance with her—not really—so I shouldn’t go beating myself up over not being the one who got to be with her. But staring at her across the way, watching the firelight dance in her eyes, made my soul ache something fierce.
It made me wonder, if I ever did have a chance with her, would I take it? If she told me tomorrow that her engagement was over, the ring was gone, and she was staying in Bootleg, what would I do? Would I step up and take the risk? Tell her how I felt?
I wanted to think I would. That I’d be man enough. But years of hearing my dad tell me I was too sensitive, too soft, too scared, had taken their toll. I’d retreated inside myself, and tried pretty damn hard to stay out of everyone’s way. Be invisible. My art was the only place where the real me showed true. I reckoned that was one reason I hadn’t turned out like Gibs—angry at the world. I had a good outlet. But it hadn’t made me any better with women than he was—not really, at least.
Scarlett appeared at my side and nudged me with her elbow. “How you doing, Jame?”
“All right,” I said. “Thanks for this.”
“Sure,” she said. “It was fun. I hope she got the message.”
“I think she did. Loud and clear.”
“You know, you should just go for it.”
“Go for what?” I asked.
“It,” she said, emphasizing the word, “with Leah Mae. Lord knows you like her, and she obviously likes you back.”
I took a swig of my beer and glanced at Leah Mae again. Thought about denying how I felt. There wasn’t much point in it, though. Just like there wasn’t much point in having a crush on a girl I couldn’t have. Didn’t matter that she was here, in Bootleg Springs, standing by my sister’s bonfire. She might as well have still been off in L.A. Didn’t change the facts.
“Can’t,” I said.