Greed (The Seven Deadly 2)

She crossed her arms into herself and regarded me from the corner of her eye.

Click.

Where so far our “clicks” brought me nothing but unimaginable pleasure, that night I felt only crestfallen.

“Hey,” she said, interrupting my thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“You’re awfully distracted.”

I smiled at her. “I suppose I am. I’m sorry,” I apologized.

“It’s okay. Got a lot on your plate lately, I know.” She had no idea. “I don’t think the stresses of the ranch are very good for anyone, but especially for those with an already full plate.”

“No, it’s really okay. I actually love the ranch a lot,” I said, surprising even myself with that statement.

“You should tell Ellie as much. She would be tickled pink.”

I laughed. “Okay, I will.”

We were quiet for a few minutes, just watching the crowd and laughing at a few.

“I, uh, I finished your sculpture,” she told me, but her face never left the crowd.

My stomach plummeted to my feet then leapt into my throat. “Cool,” I said, feeling anything but.

She turned and studied me for a moment before returning her gaze back toward the crowd. “I think I’m gonna join the others,” she said, standing up and disappointing the crap out of me. I watched her take a few steps before turning back around. “Coming?”

I was surprised by her offer and stood to join her. I followed behind her and drank in her walk, determined to retain it so I could recall it for years to come. No one walked like Cricket Hunt. No one.

We joined the others, and just as I expected, I was the fifth wheel in that night’s scenario. After an hour of pity conversation with Cricket, I decided I’d had enough, and surveyed the girls around me. Not a single one could hold a candle to Cricket, but I wasn’t going to sit there and be miserable if I could help it, so I decided to ask a girl to dance, finally deciding on one from a group that had been staring at me all night.

I stood up and told everyone I’d be right back then headed the direction of the group. They did that stupid girl thing where they whisper frantically, then make a feeble attempt to be cool and collected when you’re within ten feet, as if we are blind until that ten-foot mark. The move almost made me turn back around, but I remembered what awaited me and trudged on.

“Hi,” I said to the blonde with the long hair.

She was tall and provocative and chose a more vulgar style compared to Cricket. Essentially, she was the antithesis of Cricket. She was what I needed to distract myself from the one I really wanted but couldn’t have.

“Hi,” she said in an irritating baby voice. I crinkled my nose a little in annoyance, but she didn’t catch on.

“I was wondering if you’d like to dance?” I asked.

She popped off her stool and unattractively tugged at her short skirt, then adjusted her breasts so that optimal cleavage was exposed. Girls, another little clue here: Only skanky guys want skanky girls. You’d be surprised what a little bit longer hem can get you in the long run.

She awkwardly tiptoed on her ridiculous heels to my side and leaned in way too close. I had to slant my head away just to talk to her.

“So, uh, are you from around here?” I asked.

“Uh-huh. I live in town.”

“Cool, cool,” I said wondering if that was all the answer I was going to get.

“I don’t even have to ask if you’re from around here. I can tell you’re not.”

We’d arrived at the dance floor and I placed a hand at the broad of her back to guide her, but she took my hand and pushed it to the top of her ass. I moved it up to the small of her back and sighed in exasperation.

“Uh, how do you know I’m not from around here?” I asked her as we swayed to the slow song.