Charm

THE FRECKLES THE MESSY HAIR THE EYES HIS CHEST THE BODY HAIR THE CHAIN THE EYELINER OH GOD OH FUCK OH LORD OH MY GOD I'M SO INSANE RIGHT NOW WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCKKKKK

no but also this POV… yeah

AN ICON

wayfaring stranger | prologue | rhett abbott x reader

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synopsis: betrayal sends Rhett veering further West, searching for answers and searching for himself. Instead, he finds you.

warnings: 18+, minors dni. Will be smut, violence and swearing

…

Rhett’s been saying that he’s going to get out of here for about as long as he can remember. Even before he was angry enough to say it out loud, the promise had been scrawled with adolescent lettering, held within the pages of a leather bound journal that had been a gift from his grandfather.

There were days that Rhett really meant it. Some days he meant it more than others. Some days, it was more of an affirmation than a plan. Leaving the courthouse on that day in April, looking his childhood sweetheart in the eye and telling her that he wasn’t coming back — that seemed more binding than any of the words he had told her before.

The sign looked bigger in his dreams. The Welcome to Wyoming, Forever West, planted in the dirt on the border of Montana — when Rhett had dreamed about covering it in dirt as it grew smaller in his rear view mirror, it had looked bigger. It had meant more.

His blue eyes watch the sign grow smaller. The road behind him isn’t empty like it always is in his dreams. There’s a minivan behind him, the tired brunette behind the wheel is bickering with a child in the backseat. Behind her, a truck that doesn’t look all that different from Rhett’s. He wonders if their journey is the same as his. He’s certain it’s not.

It’s a Wednesday when Rhett leaves. He doesn’t say a damn word to anyone other than Maria, they’ll just try to ask him to stay. The road behind him isn’t empty, and neither is the road ahead of him. It’s different than in his dreams, but not in a bad way.

Truthfully, it’s like a pinch to remind him that he’s actually awake. That he did it.

Radio off, everything he owns on the bench beside him.

In his dreams, Rhett makes it further. Drives until he hits the horizon and then some. On that Wednesday, he drives until he can barely keep his eyes open and he’s got a cramp in his calf from the stiff clutch pedal in his old truck. He doesn’t quite hit the horizon, but the glowing neon of a faded motel sign seems far enough there and then.

He has some money with him. It’ll get him where he needs to go, wherever that is. Winnings from bull riding and wages from helping out on neighboring ranches. What his father had paid him usually hadn’t ever stretched far enough to make it into the savings.

Rhett pays for a room for the night, though this is the kind of establishment that’s used to more of an hourly rate. He drops his bags onto the spare bed and sits down on the one that’ll be his for the night.

He’s a couple hundred miles in, near Richfield according to the last sign before he took his exit. Idaho. He’s been here a few times before. Riding competitions, auctions and stuff. It’s never made too much of an impression before and it doesn’t on that Wednesday night.

There’s nothing on TV, Rhett hadn’t thought to bring a book when he was packing in the middle of the night. After about an hour, Rhett can’t stand the sound of his own thoughts any longer. He grabs his coat and heads out, walking along the roadside for a bit until he’s at a bar off the side of the road.

Just another lonely stranger, sitting at a barstool. He considers tequila. After the couple of weeks he has had, he could do with something strong. But, he isn’t far enough — he still feels that pull, telling him to go home and won’t risk being too hungover to drive far enough to shake that feeling tomorrow.

In lieu of tequila, Rhett finds it’s warmth elsewhere. After a couple of beers, Rhett settles out his tab. Pleased with his manners and intrigued by how he teeters on the edge of kicked puppy and mysterious outlaw, the pretty girl behind the bar tells him her shift’s almost over.

Always a gentleman, Rhett makes sure she has someone to walk her to her car once she’s ready to go. It’s not his fault that they wind up walking a little bit past her car. It’s her hand that dips into his front pocket and retrieves his motel room key — her lips that drag along his throat, her hand that curls into his hair.

She kisses him goodbye the next morning. He isn’t sure how he feels about it, but her name plays on his mind through the morning and into the afternoon. Carrying with him through Idaho and into Oregon.

It’s a couple of days of that. Driving around, learning new names between thin motel sheets, forgetting them by sundown the next day.

Rhett’s mother always had it in her head that he was a womaniser. He isn’t sure where she got it from, considering that he didn’t have his first kiss until he already had his driver’s license.

The hard part is, Rhett hadn’t ever really known enough about himself to disagree with her. She raised him, saw the intricacies of his growing mind — if that’s what she said he was, then it must’ve been true. So, Rhett let it grow to be true.

He isn’t necessarily proud of it. But, he is somewhat proud of the manner in which he does it. He’s never resorted to a sleazy pick-up line or a bold-faced lie to get a woman into his bed. He’s quiet enough to be mysterious without being mysterious enough to be unapproachable. Handsome enough but not too put together.

It’s been four days since Rhett left Wyoming when he realises that yesterday, he had turned back around. He’s on the cusp of Montana, headed back the way he came.

He had stopped feeling the pull a day or so ago, because he had already turned back towards it. He’s pulled off to the side of Route 212 in the parking lot of a diner, his head in his hands.

This had been predicted. It had been Cecelia’s go to answer every time Rhett had threaten to leave. Go on then, I’ll be here when you get back. She hadn’t meant it with spite, but those words had always struck Rhett like venom. When you get back, because she was so confident that he would.

He hadn’t ever let her explain whether she thought that he’d be back because he belonged there or because she thought he just couldn’t make it on his own.

Either way, she’s wrong.

Rhett just needs a destination — an end goal. After five days of driving through the West, he feels scattered, and it’s just going to get worse. It was kind of stupid, to pack up and leave without anywhere to go.

That’s all he has to do — figure out where he’s going.

He grabs his baseball cap from beside him on the truck bench and secures it over his messy hair, leaving the truck in its space as he heads into the almost empty diner.

He takes a seat up by the counter and orders a coffee from the polite, young waitress standing behind the counter. He probably should eat too, he just can’t stand the thought of more diner food. It takes him a while, but he orders a sandwich finally. It’s the only thing on the menu that contains a vegetable and his body’s going to give out if it doesn’t get one of those soon.

With no one here now to tell him not to play with his food, Rhett sits distracted. Under fluorescent light, calm country playing over a radio in the kitchen, he takes his time to look around him as he picks at his sandwich.

There’s a pinboard that sits behind the counter. It’s partially blocked by the pale blue uniform shirt of the waitress as she texts on her phone, but Rhett can still see most of it.

Missing people, things for sale, help wanted signs — there’s a mixture of stuff on there. There’s a piece of yellow card that stands out. Ranch Hands Wanted. The Blue Mountain Ranch, MT.

It’s a stupider idea than driving aimlessly around the country, falling right back into what he’s running away from. Still, his mouth makes the decision before his head is on board.

“‘Scuse me,” Rhett’s voice gruff from not speaking much, he quietly clears his throat and brings his coffee cup closer to him. The waitress turns towards him and raises her eyebrows, a polite smile on her lips. “Could I see that notice, please?”

A quick glance behind her to see which one he’s talking about, and then she’s looking at him dubiously. Her smile grows with intrigue. Rhett swallows, watching as the unpins the yellow paper from the board and sets it down on the counter in front of him.

He turns his gaze down and starts to read through the desired skills. All stuff that he’s been doing since he was a kid. Herding cattle, fixing fences. Nothing new except the scenery.

“Thinking of joining the Mountain?” She asks. Rhett looks up at her over the brim of his baseball cap. She’s resting both hands on the counter and leaning forwards slightly, interested.

“Does that sound like a bad idea?” He asks in response, setting the paper down on the countertop beside his coffee. He leans back in his seat and parts his knees. She looks him up and down, pink lips quirking slightly at the edges.

Handsome guy like him, hands that are clearly used to some dirty work — Lena’s got a very good friend on that ranch that could do with a pick me up.

She gives her head a soft shake, “Actually, I think you’d fit right in.”

Rhett hums. He bites the inside of his cheek as he looks down at the printed information. Somewhere to lay low until he’s got a destination in mind doesn’t sound too bad. As long as he’s not back there, it doesn’t matter.

Behind Closed Doors

Bojan Cvjetićanin x fem!reader

masterlist

Chapter One:

A/N: Apologies if I got some of the timeline wrong I'm trying lol. I used Käärijä and his real name Jere interchangeably so if you get confused that's why. Also when they're talking they're obviously talking Finnish irl but I only know some sentences so just pretend 🥴 (Definitions of Finnish words I may use are at the end of the chapter) I still don't know whether to turn this fanfic into a Bojan x reader x Käärijä...help me pls, comment below (I am deranged for them both I'm not sorry)

Being one of Käärijä's dancers for Eurovision 2023 was the best job you could ask for. You and Käärijä, or should I say, Jere, grew up together and have been through thick and thin. Nonetheless, you are still just as close as you were when you were younger.

To say you and Jere were friends would be an understatement. Best friends, sometimes slightly more if you had too much alcohol...It seemed either way Jere would always be the protective one, constantly looking out for you and prioritising your needs (and everyone else's) rather than his own. You would tell him that he had a habit of doing that, yet he would simply shrug it off.

You had the chance to meet a couple of the other contestants before arriving in Liverpool at a pre-party, specifically two nights ago at the Nordic Party, but unfortunately, or fortunately, you cannot remember a single thing from it. Thank you Finnish drinking culture! (Seriously, drink responsibly.)

Currently, the turquoise carpet was happening and Käärijä had finished his short interview which was the cue for you and the other three dancers to join him on the small make-shift stage to pose for the camera.

As soon as he saw you his eyes lit up, finding someone he was familiar with amongst the chaos of not only the carpet event but later on in the entire competition was comforting, and with having to mostly talk English (which he wasn't hugely knowledgeable on) in interviews and with the competitors, only made it more difficult. Despite this he had you and that's the only thing that mattered, and doing well in his performances, of course. You knowing slightly more English helped too...

Embracing you in a side hug was his way of showing he cared for you, for now, words are for later. While you hugged you turned to each other and smiled, both still not believing that you were in this together, at Eurovision!  At this, the camera took its last snap of you two like that. You could certainly foresee it being featured in a video titled "Fave moments of Käärijä and Y/n" or something along those lines.

Once you all began making your way to the carpet your nerves kicked in, something which Jere picked up on and whispered you some words of comfort making you struggle to shake the fuzzy feeling he gave you. Now is not the time to fixate on whether you have feelings for your best friend...

You all moved along the carpet, which consisted of talking to fans and more posing for different cameras.  While Käärijä was distracted with a fan you and the dancers decided to have a mini 'Cha Cha Cha dance moment' in the middle of the carpet for the cameraman to film. He was shifting his attention to you when he heard loud cheering. seeing you leading the dancers at the front, Cha cha cha-ing away, as he does. A laugh escaped you as you noticed him giggling at you out the corner of your eye so you dragged him by the arm to join in before embarrassment kicked in.

"You're already trying to replace me?!" Jere joked as he brought his hands on his hips.

"Maybe. I think I'll make a great Käärijä."

"I think you'll be more of a Juoppo, or better, Kalsarikänni" He teased back resulting in you playfully punching his chest, huffing, crossing your arms and facing away from him. From the corner of your eye, you thought you noticed him gazing at you for a little longer than normal but you brushed it off...

Of course, the cameras couldn't get enough of this. Another moment to add to that video!

****

After the carpet event, a few contestants were at a small bar table nearby, wanting to meet some other contestants.

You all had been there for around twenty minutes and the dancers had already left to get another drink leaving you and Käärijä to enjoy the last of your drinks together before planning on joining conversations with fellow opponents around you when a band had come over to the bar t order drinks.

"I think that's the guy I saw at the party!" Jere turned to you with a glimmer in his eye before waving and catching the man in question's attention. You followed his gaze and your heart skipped a beat. He had a black sequined flowing shirt on that made him sparkle in the light and complimented his dark blond locks, and you had to admit, he was nice to look at. Most importantly he was very familiar. Had you seen him at the party? You couldn't quite remember...

You hadn't had time to think about anything else as you noticed the man striding over, forcing you to take a sharp breath in, primarily because you were worried you were going to make a fool of yourself which left you to also mentally curse Jere for putting you in these ridiculous neon pink outfits and blinding white fake teeth and orange tan that gave uncanny valley to anyone who looked at you for longer than five seconds.

"Hey, I'm Bojan, singer of the Slovenian act, 'Joker Out'...We saw each other at the party!" He smiled at you both as you started to just about recognise him from the first time you and Jere met him at the party.

"Yes yes, Joker-man!" Jere joked in remembrance, making Bojan laugh and at that moment you thought you were dreaming. Hearing his voice again without the loud party music was nice but hearing his laugh? That was heavenly.

Jere finally (officially) introduced you to him. "This is Y/n, remember?" The man shook your hand. Your nerves were slightly eased when none of your fake tan left any marking on him, although they came right back as he spoke. Now you knew he was not only hot but had a pleasant voice too. All you had left was to hear his singing voice...

"Yes! I remember!" Bojan eagerly replied. You noticed a tinge of redness appear on his cheeks and hoped he was just feeling hot, as he physically does anyway, and not because of a recollection of something embarrassing at the party (that you still could not remember any major details of...) Deep down you knew the latter was probably true yet tried to keep yourself calm and collected.

"Good to see you again," You lied, wishing you were saying the right thing. What if you had done something stupid and now you're saying it's good to see him again? What if this isn't good?! Is it good? It must be. He is being nice to you after all...

Your thoughts were interrupted as the rest of Joker Out came over and once again said how great the party was...Even they had memories of it and they weren't even invited!

Leaving you and Bojan alone, Käärijä and the other boys began steering away, closer to a table by some other contestants the boys wanted to introduce Käärijä to.

"Hey, remember that drinking game we played at the party? That was fun..." Bojan trailed off, speaking of a moment that must have happened at the party.

"Oh...yeah! That was so fun!" You lied again, having no idea what he was talking about. Oh god, what if you had kissed him and not remembered...

Almost like an angel, Jere began walking back over with two drinks in hand, clearly seeing what you needed. Or he was sabotaging you because at this point you were ready to leave your Finnish roots behind and vow never to drink again, seeing the circumstances.

Before leaving to join the others Bojan leaned over and whispered into your ear.  "You don't remember anything at all, do you?" At that, he simply walked away, leaving you standing there even more confused...and concerned.

"Smooth." Jere had obviously heard the last of your conversation with Bojan and sent a smug smile your way.

You weren't sure but had Jere sensed the tension or were you going crazy?  Guilt was filling you up now. How could you not remember the Nordic party? You Nordics are known for liking a drink but not remembering anything, at all, is a new low even for you. Even in Käärijä's view. That hasn't happened since you were a teenager, he would know.

You felt like Jere was not telling you something or maybe he thought you had remembered what happened already... Again, you had no time to think, which was a typical thing lately much to your hatred, because a young woman around your age approached you. "Hi, I'm Alessandra! You're Y/n, right? I saw you at the Nordic party!" She smiled. Ah, yes, the party you barely could remember. As if you needed any more reminding.

"Hi! Good to see you again." You could lie for the whole world at this rate.

Alessandra introduced you and brought you over to the table where Joker Out and Käärijä were as well as the last few people who were at the bar; Luke Black who was representing Serbia and Alika who was representing Estonia. You got along well with them and you all decided to plan a get-together where tomorrow you'd all hang out at a café nearby and everyone was so excited about it! You were too, but, after that interesting interaction with Bojan, you were nervous to say the least.

As time passed the bar became quieter and quieter as they began leaving to go site-seeing, and back at the hotel, the day turned into night.

Even though you were sad to do so, even with Jere protesting otherwise, you both knew you leaving him to have an early night was for the best. To him, he assumed you were tired but you knew the only way you could escape from all the confusing and slightly flirty looks from Jere and Bojan was the comfort of your hotel room which was overwhelming at this point.

Taking a nice hot bath would surely do the trick of ridding your mind of not only them but also the stress of the competition...Until you had a vision, of yourself in a sauna. Kaarija's sauna. A pleasant steaming sauna with two other figures sat close to you. Bojan and Jere. Then it vanished away like a dream.

What was that supposed to mean?

****

While you clambered into bed for the night in your hotel room you tried to rest but something was keeping you awake, or someone, orrather two people. That bath did nothing but further confuse you!

Maybe watching Joker Out's interview from the carpet event would (worsen) help you... At that, you flipped over to your right side where your bedside table was and grabbed your phone, opened Youtube and the first thing to come up was the video in question. Seems like even your phone knows something's up.

The first was the official interview by the two hosts of the Turquoise Carpet. It opened with the usual questions like "How are you finding it all?" and "Do you like Liverpool?"    Although, as the interview progressed it built up to "Have you been anywhere you like?"

The band responded with site-seeing places like The Cavern Club where The Beatles performed but to you, the most important place was the Nordic Party..."Okay, that wasn't too bad," you thought to yourself.

The next video was by one of the reporters who was one of many along the Turquoise carpet and you thought it couldn't get any worse...but it did. The question that stuck out the most to you was "Which contestant would you rather get stuck in a sauna with?" which caused the band to erupt in laughter.

Luckily, while the video was being recorded earlier that day, you and Käärijä and the other dancers were further along or had left the carpet by then, otherwise, the answer they gave would have probably provoked anyone within reach to ask you about: "I think I've already done that already..."  Bojan hesitated yet finished the sentence; "...with two people here already..."

He then had the cheek to mutter under his breath: "Someone close to Käärijä." Bojansmirked and the rest of the band giggled. If you weren't slick you wouldn't have caught it but it looked like Jan said something under his breath to Bojan...something that looked to be your name.

So, in conclusion, that 'vision' you had in the bath was in fact, a memory.

Well, fuck.

****

A/N:

Juoppo = drunkard.

Kalsarikänni = getting drunk in your underwear at home. (I still find it so funny they have a  word for this...I love Finnish😭)

ALSO THE DRAMA, GUYS, THE DRAMAAAA!!!

Please reblog if you enjoyed! Thanks!

I'M UNWELL AAAAAAA

So cuteeee

pairing. chenle x shy!reader

synopsis. the one where your affection-starved boyfriend keeps asking you for kisses

tags. established relationship, purely fluff, no specific prns used for reader, lmk if anything was missed :D

wc. 0.8k

notes. this is heavily self-indulgent (again) and i have no excuses. why can't all men just be chenle im so srs 😞😞 also can we talk about the dreamies love me right stage like it was SO good (i am still here it is my roman empire),, anw likes and feedback are highly appreciated!

꒰ m.list ꒱

“babe, kiss please.”

chenle’s voice is light and teasing, as though the request is the most natural thing in the world. his lips are already puckered, his chin tilted upward just enough to let you know he’s fully expecting to get his way. his arms are sprawled comfortably on the couch, legs stretched out, one sock-clad foot nudging yours beneath the blanket draped over both of you.

you glance at him, already feeling the warmth creeping up your neck. his confidence is unshakable, and it’s maddening how he knows you so well—knows you’d never outright deny him, especially when he’s in one of these moods.

“but le,” you stammer, your voice slightly higher than usual, “that’s the tenth one today.”

your face is already flushed, the heat blooming across your cheeks as you avoid his gaze. you fiddle with the hem of the blanket, trying to appear unaffected, but the small, traitorous quiver in your voice gives you away.

“no one told you to keep count, baby,” he replies smoothly, his lips quirking into a grin that deepens the dimple on his left cheek.

“i know, but…” you trail off, words slipping away as he leans closer, his eyes locked on yours with that mischievous spark that always sets your heart racing.

“kiss?”

his voice is softer now, more of a coax than a command. the single word lingers between you, playful and persistent, as if daring you to resist. his proximity is overwhelming, the faint scent of his cologne that vaguely reminds you of fresh laundry mixing with the warmth radiating from his skin.

you shift slightly, trying to steady your breath, but the couch feels impossibly small. “le,” you murmur, barely audible, and your eyes flit nervously to the muted television.

he tilts his head, his dark eyes wide with mock curiosity. “hmm?”

the late afternoon sunlight streams through the windows, casting soft, golden patterns on the walls. outside, birds chirp faintly, their song weaving into the cozy stillness of the room. the scene is peaceful, but the fluttering in your chest is anything but.

“i just think…” you pause, your fingers curling tightly around the edge of the blanket. his presence is so close, so consuming, that forming coherent sentences feels like a monumental task. “i just think you’re doing this on purpose.”

his grin spreads wider, and there’s a twinkle in his eye that confirms your suspicions. “maybe i am,” he says, his voice low and lilting. his hand drapes casually over the back of the couch, fingers brushing lightly against your shoulder. “but what are you going to do about it?”

you puff your cheeks slightly in frustration, your lips pressing into a thin line. “you’re impossible,” you mutter, though your tone lacks any real bite.

“and you’re adorable,” he counters effortlessly, his teasing edge softening into something sweeter. his gaze lingers on your face, taking in every shy glance and nervous fidget.

the quiet stretches between you again, and for a moment, all you can hear is the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall. the weight of his attention feels heavy yet comforting, like a blanket wrapping around you.

“hey.”

you glance up at him hesitantly, and he takes the opportunity to tilt his head slightly, his expression now devoid of the teasing smirk. “you don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable,” he says, his tone sincere in nature.

the sudden shift in his demeanor catches you off guard, and your heart skips a beat. you realize then, with the way his gaze softens and his teasing fades into genuine care, that this is why you never deny him.

your hand hesitates, but eventually, you reach out to brush your fingers against his cheek. his eyes widen slightly in surprise before his grin returns, smaller this time but somehow warmer.

“okay,” you whisper, your voice so quiet you’re not sure he hears you until he leans in again, this time slower, giving you all the space in the world to pull away if you want.

but you don’t.

your lips press against his for the briefest moment, featherlight and shy, but it’s enough to make his heart swell. when you pull back, your cheeks are aflame, and you can’t bring yourself to meet his gaze.

“see?” chenle murmurs, his voice tinged with a mixture of pride and affection. “not so bad, right?”

you swat at his arm, grumbling under your breath, but he just laughs, leaning back against the couch with a contented sigh. “eleven,” you mumble after a moment, counting softly under your breath.

“what was that, baby?” he asks, feigning ignorance, though the grin tugging at his lips tells you he heard every word.

you glance at him from the corner of your eye, a small smile tugging at your own lips despite yourself. “that’s the eleventh one today.”

chenle chuckles, leaning over to press another quick kiss to your temple, his voice low and teasing.

“then make that twelve.”

conor_o_donohoe ig story 19.7.2023

wayfaring stranger | 0.2 | rhett abbott x reader

previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

synopsis: betrayal sends Rhett veering further West, searching for answers and searching for himself. Instead, he finds you.

warnings: 18+, minors dni. Will be smut, violence and swearing. No warnings for this particular chapter other than Rhett smokes. Enemies to lovers in a very loose sense.

…

Your bedroom faces the bunkhouse. With the corner room, one of your windows faces the miles of acres to the west and the other faces down the hill towards the driveway, with a perfect view of the bunkhouse. An even better view if you pull down the loft hatch and climb up to look through the window up there.

This does mean, however, when you choose to sleep with your window open, they all wake you up at ungodly hours of the morning. It’s late April now, and the temperature is in the high fifties. Warm for April, still not that warm. You wake up with a chill, having forgotten to close the window last night before bed.

With a soft groan of complaint, you roll onto your side and pull the covers closer around you. You peek one eye open and it’s still dark. They might be all the way down the hill, but those deep voices carry just fine through the night air. The manual alarm clock beside your bed tells you that it’s just after four.

Another groan of complaint and this time you push yourself up, immediately hit with frigid air after being wrapped up warm under the duvet. You walk quickly over to the window and pull it shut, catching a quick glimpse down the hill at the cowboys as they ready themselves for their day of work.

It’s been a week since the rude cowboy with the long hair turned up and decided to test how far he could push you. You haven’t spoken to him since and your mother gave you a huge lecture for smacking his cigarette from his hand. It wasn’t anything he didn’t deserve — you could have hit his face.

He seems to be fitting in well enough, he’s at the bottom of the hill now, perched on a brown horse and leaning down to talk to Duke. Your father seems to like him, he came back up last night chatting away about how ‘that kid from Wyoming’s not half bad’ — and in Bud Hawthorne speak, that means Rhett must be pretty damn great.

You pull the curtains the rest of the way shut and return back to your bed.

When Lena had said she had sent a guy your way, you had at least expected her to have sent a nice one. Lena doesn’t date nice boys, though, so you figure that that makes sense.

She had gone to the same high school you had, but she was two years older. You hadn’t talked back then. You had been warned to stay away from girls like Lena. Too much eye make up, skirts too short. People around town had plenty to say about her. And the male company that she keeps.

Dottie had said that this would happen. She had said that there was plenty of work for you to do around the ranch and that there’s absolutely no reason that you would need to get a job in town, especially not at that dingy little diner where the bad girls work.

But, you’re like your father — your mind was made up and that was the first place that would hire you. Lena had trained you when you had first started a few months ago, the two of you had grown pretty close since then.

Dottie has noticed the change in you and she doesn’t like it one bit. Talking back, picking up extra shifts whenever you feel like it, skipping dinner on account of this new job.

She remembers what it was like being a young woman and she knows how easy it is to be led astray. The further you are from her watchful eye and the closer you are to that wicked girl, the easier that’ll be.

Your alarm rings out at a little after eight. You wake with a couple of different sounds of discontentment, slapping your hand around the bedside table until it hits the top of the clock and silences that awful sound.

Sunlight peeking through the curtains, you can hear your mother vacuuming downstairs already. You sigh softly and push yourself upright. It takes a couple of minutes for you to gain the motivation to finally leave your comfy, plush white sheets and head for the bathroom.

Your sister is already awake and singing in her room down the hallway. Scarlett is younger than you, she just turned fifteen a while ago. You pass by her room silently. There just isn’t as much in common between the two of you as there used to be.

Since your parents took the lock off of your door last month, the bathroom is the only true privacy left in the house. The mechanism clicks under your fingers and you’re alone.

The shower streams to your left, you let it warm up whilst you brush your teeth. You slip out of the house whilst your mother is still vacuuming, heading down the hill with your bag slung over your shoulder.

Your truck is too shitty to be up by the house now, the rumble of the engine wakes your mother up, so it stays parked down by the bunk house.

“Hey, Duke!” You call down to the aging cowboy, the tread on your sneakers struggling to keep up with the incline on the dirt path down to the driveway.

Busy watching a horse buck around the pen, he turns his head and smiles when he spots you, even if you did interrupt his conversation with Rhett.

“Morning, sunshine.” Duke smiles at you.

“Would you mind taking a look at my truck later? — it’s making that weird noise again.” You call over to him, swinging your keys around your index finger as you walk over to the old rust bucket that’s been keeping Rhett up at night. It’s exhaust is shot and so you can hear it coming from a mile away.

He looks you up and down in your waitressing uniform. Your eyes are on him when he finally gets to your face. His lips quirk at the edges. He raises his hand and waves his fingers at you tauntingly.

You scowl, rolling your eyes as Duke calls back a good-natured agreement, pulling yourself up into the driver’s seat.

“Hey, new guy, do you like having a right hand?” Chuck, a man rather aptly named, asks from Rhett’s left. Rhett turns his head and raises his eyebrows expectantly, waiting for the second part of the joke. “If you do, I’d stop waving it at Mr. Hawthorne’s kid.”

Rhett chuckles and shakes his head, “I’m just messin’ with her.”

Duke and Chuck exchange knowing looks. Rhett continues on, making it a mental note that making jokes about Mr. Hawthorne’s daughter is apparently off limits.

“That was flirting. He was flirting with you.” Lena scoffs as she flips through the pages of her magazine. She chuckles off-handedly and shakes her head. This is all so simple to her.

You swallow, twirling the straw through your Diet Coke, knocking the ice cubes into the side of the glass. Watching the ice cubes bump into each other until you can actually see them getting smaller, you consider what she has just said.

Lena doesn’t seem to notice how long you’ve been quiet, chewing her gum at your side, pursing her lips and exhaling to form a blue bubblegum bubble between her lips. It pops at your side and brings you back to this reality.

“Are you sure?” You lean down, resting your forearms on the counter as you sip from the straw.

Lena chuckles again. “Yes!”

You swallow the fizzy liquid and pout your lips slightly in consideration, turning your gaze towards the polished, Hollywood couple kissing on the page of her magazine.

“So, what was I supposed to say?” Sometimes, you like to pretend that you’re more experienced around Lena than you really are. There’s only a small age difference between the two of you but in terms of experience, there might as well be years.

When you had first started working here and she had been telling you about everything — all of the boyfriends, the midnight makeouts, the steaming up the windows of old trucks, that one married man that you still struggle to look in the eye in church now — it had been daunting.

So, you had told a little white lie. “Sure, of course I’ve had sex before.”

Just a boy from church. She didn’t ask much about it, and she had seemed to believe you. Sometimes you worry that you’re getting close to being uncovered, that she’ll know you’re lying, but in times like this — you could just do with the advice.

“So, when he said ‘you’ll do it for me, won’t you?’ — you should’ve said ‘if you make me’.”

She says it so nonchalantly. You scrunch your nose slightly as you look over at your relatively new, and informed best friend. You had only met him right then… no way does she say that kind of thing to strangers.

Plus, you didn’t want him to make you throw away his trash for him — that’s ridiculous. Who would want that? It makes no sense to you. Still, you nod knowingly and hum, returning to your Diet Coke.

“Hey, you want to go out this Saturday?” Lena suggests, turning her attention towards you finally. She smacks the blue gum between her lips again.

You snort at the idea, “Like to a bar? — Fat chance, my parents are barely okay with me coming here.”

She raises her eyebrows disapprovingly at you, then scoffs, turning back to her magazine. “Y’know, most people stop letting their parents give them a curfew when they turn eighteen.”

Pressing your tongue into your cheek, you glance down at the glass in front of you. Easy for her to say, she’s been going to rodeos with guys she barely knows since she was in high school. It’s harder when your parents are the way that they are.

“Hey, sugar — any chance of me getting a refill on this, or what?”

You both look up in unison while he taps a dirty nail against his coffee cup. It’s not clear which one of you exactly the trucker in the far booth, with sweat stains on his white t-shirt and his belt unbuckled after his lunch, is talking to, but Lena answers.

“You’ve got a better chance of getting a refill if you stop calling me sugar, slimeball.” Lena answers. Your lips quirk slightly as the man’s smug little smile drops right off of his face. You love it when she does that.

It makes you feel powerful even when you’re not the one saying it. This time last year, you wouldn’t have dared speak to anyone like that, much less a man that was older than you. That was a level of disrespect that your mother never would’ve tolerated.

Speaking like Lena does is fun. Dropping curse words here and there, knocking that sleazy looking smile off of a man’s face without ever even touching him, it makes you feel big. Being Lena’s friend feels good.

It’s just hard to switch that off when you get back home, which is what at least ninety percent of your arguments with your mother have been about since you started here. “I don’t like that attitude, young lady.”, “don’t you dare talk back to me like that, girl.”

Things of that nature.

“Could I get a refill, please?” The man tries again. You smile softly, grabbing the coffee pot and walking politely over to him. You pour his cup, noticing the way his head bows in shame.

Rhett hears you before he sees you. The shitty truck that keeps knocking into stuff late at night pulls up the driveway so fast that he has to take a couple of steps back. His boots skid on the gravel as the truck screeches to a stop.

You turn the engine off and hop down from the truck. The look on your face tells him that that wasn’t an unusual arrival. His brows scrunch disapprovingly as he wonders what kind of idiot gave you your license.

He takes a second to look over your uniform, quirking an eyebrow as you unroll the skirt. It gains about three inches in length once you’re done, falling down just past your knees.

You look up, swinging the truck door shut behind you and meeting his gaze. You smooth out the skirt and smile sheepishly.

“Guessing that your Dad doesn’t stop by your work too often, does he?” Rhett teases, cigarette wobbling between his lips as he leans up against the smoking sign. He’s wearing a baseball cap today, it suits him more than the cowboy hat. You like it.

In fact, there’s nothing you don’t like about what he’s wearing. Sensible boots, faded pair of blue wranglers and a blue button up shirt. He’s handsome when you’re not mad at him.

“Sometimes he does.” You reply, hoping that if you convince him that your father already knows then he won’t snitch on you for shortening the skirt.

Rhett inhales and let’s the cigarette hang at his side, tapping some of the ash onto the floor. “Cute get up, kid.” He expects some kind of explosive reaction that’ll provide him with a little entertainment for the quiet evening.

Instead, you drop your hip and smile sweetly at him, taking your time in slowly looking him up and down, then shooting him a quick wink. “Thanks. You too.”

Rhett’s smile falters, brows scrunching.

Your heart thuds in your chest as you turn and walk away from him. He watches you the rest of the way up the hill, features creased in confusion. Irritating you is fun, flirting with you is going to get him in trouble.

“Young lady, where have you been?” It all begins before the screen door has even closed behind you. You lean your head back and sigh softly. You’re less than twenty minutes later than usual.

Helping with dinner. Sitting politely whilst your father rattles on about cattle and your mother periodically interjects about Sunday service this week. Begrudgingly helping Scarlett with her history homework a little after that.

Not only under this roof, within these four walls does it feel that your every waking moment belongs to your parents, but also under lilac clouds and powder blue skies. You kick your shoes through blades of uncut grass, reveling in a few minutes to yourself before the sun sets.

Friday night and you’re wandering aimlessly to your fences, along the treeline and back along again. Lena’s probably out right now, building some exciting story that you’ll hear about on Monday, bubbling with envy.

Rhett takes a sip of his beer as the door to the bunk house swings shut behind him. He walks over to his truck and drops the tailgate, taking a deep breath as he sets his beer down and sits down.

Leaning back on his palms, his intention is to look towards the sky and think about what comes next. Instead, his gaze lands on you. A while away still, trailing your fingers along the longest blades of grass by the treeline. You’ve changed out of your uniform and are wearing a modest, loose fitting dress.

He picks up the beer bottle and brings it to his lips as he watches you. As a lion watches a gazelle through the tall grass. It’s no wonder than Mr. and Mrs. Hawthorne keep such a close eye on you.

Pretty in the way that you are. With an attitude like that, he bets that you’ve been catching the wrong kind of attention from guys like him for a while now.

The next time he sets his beer down, he clocks that you’re heading towards him. Whether or not you have noticed him yet, he isn’t sure until you get closer.

You’ve noticed him. Sitting on his truck bed in a thin green t-shirt, a pair of jeans and that black cap from earlier. As you trail the fence line, knowing that I’ll lead you in his direction, you think of one of the first stories Lena had told you.

The first time she’d had sex. With a boy from her grade in her junior year of high school, in the cab of his truck. Every detail had seemed so seamless. So easy.

You’ve never had a conversation with a man that has led further than some hand holding, let alone that leads into something like that so flawlessly.

“Am I in trouble, officer?” Rhett calls out to you first. Initially, your instinct is to roll your eyes and straighten up. Taking it in your stride, you think of what Lena would want you to say. Your mind races. It’s a mishmash of needing to not take too long to answer and having no idea what to say.

“Depends.” You decide. That doesn’t sound too bad. Your tone wasn’t off, it’s confident enough to have fooled him. His lips quirk softly as you grow closer. Gravel crunches under your soles as you continue towards him.

“On what?” Rhett quips in response, leaning back on one of his palms. Your eyes trail the pronounced veins in his forearms, intricate lines on tanned skin. Finally, you meet his gaze again.

Another brief panic. Lena. One of Lena’s answers. Something. You look at his face for the answer, nothing. Your eyes land on the beer bottle at his side.

“Whether or not you’re willing to share.”

Rhett follows that impish look on your face down to the glass bottle at his side. His lips quirk softly, gesturing his head for you to sit beside him. One drink never hurt anyone.

Your feet carry you forwards, turning and sitting down on the truck bed at his side. He passes the glass bottle into your hand.

Swiping a thumb through the condensation on the side, you toy with it first. Rhett watches your thumb trail the glass bottle, then lifts his gaze to look at you. Seven days and you’re the only woman he has seen, he’s starting to wonder how bad your father’s temper could possibly be — and more importantly, how good you are at keeping secrets.

Whether or not you’re interested in him isn’t drawn into question, not with the way you trail around him like a fly on a hot day. He’s already made up his mind on how you feel about him.

You lift the bottle and take a big sip. The liquid sits on your tongue, all bubbles and bitter fizz. Rhett raises his eyebrows expectantly. He waits a few seconds, then frowns.

“You going to swallow that?”

Embarrassed and not at all impressed by the cheap beer, you swallow it anyway and hand the bottle back to him again. Rhett laughs at your side as he takes a drink for himself.

Your cheeks and ears burn all at once, even as the temperature drops along with the sun, both of them disappearing hand in hand beyond the horizon. Your burning discomfort is more than enough to keep you warm, luckily.

He trails his thumb along the bottle as you had, watching as his larger digit slides through the path yours had taken, covering over any trace of your touch on the bottle.

He looks down at your hands in your lap, unmistakably smaller than his own, then back out towards the field. He won’t make the first move — that’s sensible enough. If you come onto him, then so be it, if not, he’ll leave you alone.

“I’ll bet you’re used to the good stuff. German beer, something like that? — Actually, I’ll bet you go for your dad’s liquor cabinet.” Rhett muses, expecting an answer but still halfway talking to himself. His voice is rumbling and deep, always quiet.

You drank a sip of vodka once when you were fifteen, then you prayed for forgiveness. More recently, you slipped a bottle of gin from the liquor cabinet. It’s under your bed and you drink from it when you feel like it, but it’s not good.

“Better than whatever that crap is.” You answer calmly. Rhett glances across at you as you lean back on your palms. You’re bolder than he thought you’d be, and he has no idea that it’s an act for the most part.

He smiles as he glances down and reads the bottle. He’s not a brand loyalist, and the beer really is too shitty for him to defend it to you.

He sets it down between the two of you and digs a hand into his front pocket, “You smoke?”

You swallow softly, the taste of that shitty cheap fizz on your tongue. Lena would say yes. “When I feel like it.”

He pulls his cigarettes from his pocket and pulls one from the pack, offering it to you first. Looking at the thin Marlboro extended towards you between his calloused fingers, something in your brain short circuits.

You’re a smart girl, you’re college educated, you know how people look when they accept a cigarette, you’ve seen it before. And yet, some backwards, incorrectly functioning part of your brain leaves your hands static in your lap.

Rhett watches as you part your lips just slightly. His brows scrunch just briefly, it’s a fraction of a second type movement but you catch it happen. He flips the cigarette between his fingers and leans in to set the butt of it between your lips.

Your eyes are on him. He stares back at you as your lips close around the end of the cigarette. Breeze sweeps your hair back slightly away from your forehead and reminds him to move.

He pulls his lighter from his pocket and clicks down the spark wheel, igniting the small flame, cupping his free hand around it to shield it from the wind.

You hold it between your lips, letting him light then end and taking a small puff. His lips quirk instantly. You realise that you must’ve done it wrong.

All that you did was pull a bit of smoke into your mouth and then breathe it back out. That’s right. He can see your mind working, trying to figure out where you went wrong.

“Try again.” Rhett nods. You steady the cigarette between your index and middle finger and take another drag. “That’s it. Breathe in, hold it.”

Your brows furrow as you hold the smoke in your lungs. He smirks, then nods. “Now exhale.”

It seems like it’s going to go well, you’re about halfway through the exhale when it catches in your throat and you splutter, leaning forwards and coughing.

Rhett nudges at your hand with the bottle, prepared already as he swaps it for the cigarette.

“You’re a real pro, kid,” He comments as he sets the cigarette between his lips, you sip tenderly at the beer beside him and rub at your throat. “I’ll bet you could teach me a thing or two. Y’know, since you smoke all the time.”

There it is, that’s what he was looking for. He’s under your skin. You turn your head and glare at him as you set the beer down again.

He turns his head to look at you. Quiet, just watching you struggle to come up with something witty to say now that he has caught you in the lie. You’re pretty sure that Lena’s never been caught in a lie, it’s not in her nature.

He nudges his knee softly into yours, the worn out denim of his jeans skimming over your bare skin. You still your hands as they go to pull your dress down further. You let it stay where it is, letting him brush his leg into the side of yours. It’s a friendly gesture, letting you know that he’s not making fun of you.

Your fingertips brush his arm as you go for the beer bottle once more. Maybe you’re sitting too close, but he doesn’t pull away. You bring the bottle to your lips and take another sip. It’s starting to not be so bad. Plus, it’s getting that bad cigarette taste out of your mouth.

There’s a period of quiet, sitting knee to knee, elbow to elbow with this man that you know next to nothing about. His name’s Rhett, he’s from Wyoming. That’s about all you know about him, and it makes your heart jump.

Sitting here with him, this is what Lena was talking about, this is how it’s meant to feel. All of those times you were nudged towards supposedly charming sons in church, it hadn’t ever felt right. Your heart racing in your chest and the warmth from his skin burning it’s mark into yours, that’s got to be right.

You flinch at the sound of your mother's voice. She’s calling you from the porch again, you had left your phone on the kitchen table.

“Mommy’s calling.” Rhett quips, taking the beer bottle from your hand and taking a small sip as he flicks ash onto the ground. You shoot a narrow-eyed look back at him. He smirks.

“You’re smoking too close to the building again.” Your voice drips with triumph, thinking you’ve shut him up, pushing yourself down from the truck and standing up right.

“You’d better hurry on up that hill, or she might just ground you.” Rhett taunts in response. Your lips press together. He hums in amusement as you turn on your heel and walk away from him, kicking gravel in your path until you reach the dirt.

That’s not flirting. Belittling is not flirting. You scowl, not bothering to look back at the stupid cowboy sitting on his stupid truck. Asshole. The word remains on the inside of your mouth as you brush past your mother and walk back inside. You’re getting better at turning it off around her now.

…

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