American Honey

He’s telling me to stay away from Kasey because Kasey’s taken by the preacher’s daughter. He’s forever off limits. It’s not like I care though. Ashley can have his lying, cheating ass. Maybe being with a preacher’s daughter affords some sort of forgiveness and salvation that I can’t offer. Fuck ‘em all is my motto.

Harrison gives a beer to Jessie who snatches it out of his hand and looks the direction of her fuck buddy standing near an old worn down tractor that hasn’t ran in years.

I don’t know his name. I doubt she does either. It’s just a thing with them. Something to pass the time in this sleepy town. Jessie falls for the boys from the south every time. She’s got a thing for their boots and spurs.

They get me too but I’m a little more into the rebels. I can’t seem to pick any who aren’t going to break my heart.

Kasey, who’s in the corner of the barn with his girl who’s never seen a dick before, wraps her in his arms heading for the field where a bonfire lights the night’s sky. Some think the guys go for the sluts. They do. But only for a night. It’s these girls like the one in Kasey’s arms tonight that he’ll never push too far. He’ll respect her, give her what she needs and eventually marry her.

Look at her. She’s beautiful. And in a simple pure heavenly way. I keep looking for her fucking halo or angel wings to peep out at me she’s so pure. I bet she’d stay with him if she found out about me, and all the other girls he’s been with. She’d probably smile and take it to heart, give him another chance knowing damn well all she’s ever gonna give a guy like Kasey Peterson is a chance.

It’s girls like me who are never appreciated. It’s me who gives them their pleasure, their wild fantasy they’re never gonna get with that too good, too pretty, too innocent one in their arms ready to meet their mama. I’m never gonna meet his mom. I’m the girl he fucks on Sunday morning when his girl’s in church. I’m not the “keeper” that he’ll tell his friends about, I’m the one he will tell his friends to fuck next.

My attention draws from Kasey to a man standing to my left leaning against his truck. There’s a lot of commotion in the field but my attention is on him. He’s that train wreck I can’t seem to look away from, I’m not sure why other than his stunning good looks that keep my eyes riveted; however, I know it’s more, so much more.

The bonfire lights his eyes. He’s sexy, but he’s humble. I see that just in the way he smiles at me. His body is leaned more to one side with a beer in his hand. At first glance, he’s not overly tall but enough that he would hover over me, if I were standing next to him or, better yet, if he was hovering over me say in a bed, or in a field.

When he feels my eyes on him, he tips his hat, winking, but there’s sadness there. An overwhelming sadness that has me wanting to touch him in a show of comfort but I can’t, I’m not “that girl” who comforts men in that way. He’s not here for the girls. He’s here to forget and that’s what he’s doing bringing a half empty bottle to his lips every few minutes. He never flinches at the burn as it gives him the pleasure he’s looking for. I watch his eyes as they scan the field and stray on the pasture. There’s a memory there, one that keeps his stare on that field.

More have shown up but there’s about ten of us standing around the fire, some talking while others keep their eyes and voices silent, captured by a crackling fire and a feeling of isolation from the rest of this world that only being around this place with these people can offer. The man shifts his stance, his worn boots scrape against the dirt and gravel. My eyes are drawn to him. He’s straight up country and fits the bill for these parts. I know who he is. He’s Callan James, the troubled middle James brother who left town four years ago.

When I glance up from my beer, his eyes are on mine. His smile draws me in first and the way he’s keeping it at bay under the fire light has me mesmerized. Then I see his eyes, once just a shadow, they’re alive and bright, blue stones like diamonds under that black cowboy hat. His nose is a tad crooked, probably broken a few times. He seems distant, no doubt a product of returning home. I don’t know the story behind the James’ brothers. Some in this sleepy town do. I was too young at the time to know. They’re mysterious, I know that much. And I think that’s how they want everyone to see them. I may say I know this town, the people in it, but there’s still some mystery.

When he feels I’m staring, because I am, his eyes travel the length of my body with no amount of discretion.

He’s leaning against the black truck in a relaxed manner. He’s still trouble. I know this when I see his eyes make another pass over my body. He’s confident, I see that much. He doesn’t care that I see him checking me out.

The crowd wanders and his eyes shift around the fire, landing on mine. Then, with a smile, he gives

me a nod to his truck, his hand on the door.

Chapter Two

My Sinning Soul

There’s nothing to do in Amarillo on a Friday night besides drink and fuck. I’m about to do both. There’s no sugar coating what’s about to happen. I like sex and more importantly, I’m liking the man standing in front of me staring at me as if he knows what I want.

The fire lights the cab of his truck giving me little guidance but it’s enough to see he wants this. His chest is rising and falling a little faster, one hand on the steering wheel, the other around the back of the seat. When his eyes find mine, they’re fire lit with anticipation.

I’m sitting on my knees on the bench seat, my hands move up muscular legs to his buckle. He has to be stupid if he didn’t know what I was doing getting in here with him. When I look up at him, his eyes tell me that he knows more than I’m giving him credit for. I think he knew when he saw me by the fire I’d be on my knees but he’s probably too much of a gentleman to say so.

My hands work on his buckle, the clanging brings his eyes to mine sending a spark straight to the one spot where I know he will be shortly.

It looks as though he might stop me, he wants to but he doesn’t. Instead his left hand wraps in my hair, gentle but firm. He’s not going to stop. I see it. He’s bringing me along for this ride. “You done this before?”

Turning my head just slightly, I nod, it’s better that he knows. His expression offers me nothing right then so I continue. I know what I’m doing.

His buckle catches my eye. It’s gold and has a bull rider on it with words I can’t make out given my blurry stare.

When I have his belt undone, my fingers work toward the edges of his black boxers. My stare catches his, still no emotion is offered for me, only that fire lit stare from the bonfire he gives me. He squints a little, his head tipped to one side but says nothing.

Just as I get one hand inside his boxers, his hands are on mine. “How old are you?” He’s looking for the truth, the blue stones capturing me inside their spark.

“Eighteen…” It’s a lie but it’s close enough. What’s a few days?

“Are you lyin’?” his brow arches.

“No.”