23. Wear The Hat

23

WEAR THE HAT

ONE OF THEM GIRLS, LEE brICE

Manny

“Come on!” Cara shouts over the pounding music, tugging at my hand as I sit on the wooden barstool. The dim, neon-lit bar in Nashville pulses with energy; the floor is packed with people dancing, their laughter mingling with the loud beats of country tunes. Her voice cuts through the noise, “Come dance with me, please! I love this song!”

Cara’s back to her usual self—a whirlwind bubble of energy. She’s been on the dance floor for the past hour with me in tow. She hasn’t stopped dancing for more than a few seconds to drink water and then goes back to it. Her blonde hair bounces with every movement, reflecting the strobe lights that dance around the room. If excitement was a person, it would be her, moving with a rhythm that seems to flow effortlessly from one song to the next. She knows more songs than anyone I’ve ever met and has been dancing non-stop. I’ve tried to keep up, but I’m drained and need a break. I’m not made of endless energy.

“Okay, I’ll dance with you again, but right now, I need to rest. I need to hydrate a bit, too. We’ll both be done by the end of the night if we keep this up and someone has to drive us home.” Today has been a long day and we keep adding drinks and non-stop moves, making us more tired than you’d think.

Cara pouts, her lips curving into a mischievous grin. “Where’s the fun in that? Where’s the fun Manny from the other day? The ‘won’t you pretend to be my wife’ Manny?”

Her tone is playful, and I know she’s just goofing around, calling me on my bullshit. Probably just high on music as she says she gets when she listens to too many of her favorite songs in a row. Still, there’s something about the way those words sound coming from her that I can’t quite ignore.

“He’s right here, still having fun, but he needs a minute,” I say, lowering her cowgirl hat with my index finger and adding, “Let’s sit this song out, and I’ll dance with you again on the next one, okay? But you can go dance your little heart out if you want.”

“Fine,” Cara says, adjusting her hat and pulling her hair back onto her shoulders. With a dramatic turn, she stomps away in her pink cowgirl boots, her heels clicking against the wooden floor. When she said she wanted Nashville’s country scene, I didn’t realize she meant it so literally. She stepped out of the B&B room tonight in sparkly pink country boots, the tiniest white dress I’ve ever seen, the hem touching right where her ass ends and her legs begin. If she bends forward you can see the edge of her ass cheeks and paired with the lacy bottom and the cleavage on top, the dress leaves little to the imagination. Her pink cowgirl hat and bouncy curls make her look like a real-life cowgirl Barbie. My gaze lingers on her, unable to ignore how incredibly hot she looks. Her energetic movements keep drawing not only my attention but everyone else’s too and I’m still shocked she doesn’t see that.

I still can’t believe she doesn’t see that she commands every space she walks into, and she lights up the room with her smile. Her smile. By far my favorite part of her, and tonight, she has the biggest smile I’ve seen on her in days. It’s as if her soul is shining through her smile and we can all see that she’s irradiating happiness.

I’m not sure if it’s the music, the food, the drinks, or the lively crowd around her that’s making her smile more tonight. Maybe it’s the fact that she’s in a place she’s been wanting to visit for long. Or maybe it’s that she needed to cry and let it all out and now she feels better. Maybe it’s a combination of it all. But a little voice inside of me tells me maybe she’s hiding behind that pretty smile and that she’s just plastering joy for everyone to see while she dies a little inside. Whatever it is, I’m going to figure it out. If it’s the first, then I’m damn happy she’s finding joy in this trip but if it’s the latter, I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure that smile becomes a genuine one. I will make sure every damn moment for the rest of this trip is worth a new bracelet for her.

“Ready for another one?” the bartender asks, pulling me from my thoughts. I didn’t even notice her come near me, too captivated by Cara’s movements and laughter.

“I’ll take another one and two waters,” I say. Cara will definitely need some after she’s done dancing. My eyes roam back to her and it’s like I can hear her laugh even above all the noise.

“You’re lucky. Not only is she fucking hot, respectfully, she’s the life of the party here. I wouldn’t leave her dancing alone for long or someone will try to sweep her off her feet,” the bartender comments as she disappears behind the bar before I can respond.

She’s not mine , I want to tell her, but I can’t quite convince myself to say the words. It’s been so hard listening to everyone who thinks we’re together, that we’ve been together for a long time. They tell us how good we look together. I would like nothing more than for that to be reality, but it wouldn’t be fair to her. There’s nothing I can bring to the table that she doesn’t already have.

Yes, I have money but she doesn’t care about that, never has. Her family and mine have been friends for a long time. Her parents might not have the money my family does but they have always worked hard to earn what they have. She’s not like all of those girls who chase me down so they can climb the social ladder or to get the latest designer bag. I have my business, but Cara was born to be a teacher and she loves it. I don’t think she’ll ever want to stop teaching. I could say I could give her a sister, but she already has one, and my own sister is like a sister to her, too. I could show her a good time but that’s not even true. Cara’s the life of the party all on her own. She also deserves time. She deserves to be someone’s priority and if I give up time at work, which I clearly would for her, would she even consider me?

I watch as some guy walks over to her, grabs her hand, and twirls her around, spinning her in his arms. As they dance to the beat of the honky-tonk music, her smile is bright so I know she’s not uncomfortable, or at least not from what I can see. I grab my drink and take the last sip while I keep watching. They move in perfect sync, following a two-step rhythm she picks up on almost instinctively. Almost as if she knew the dance before he pulled her to him. They dance so closely, and I can’t help but notice how her head tilts toward him, as if on the verge of a kiss.

I can feel my ears burning as I grip my whiskey glass tightly, nearly shattering it in my frustration. I remind myself that she’s not mine and she’s free to do as she pleases. But then, just two days ago, she kissed me. She. Kissed. Me. And then, she didn’t talk about it again, killing me inside. The memory lingers, I find it hard to forget. I can’t shake it off, especially since she has treated me exactly the same as before, as though nothing ever happened between us. I want to take the damn bracelet off and show it to her, to remind her how she told me to live in the moment. To stop and see the wonder. But what about her? Is she stopping to take it all in? To let herself feel it all? Because if she was, she would let herself get lost in me. At least I hope she will.

I told her to let me know when she couldn’t get over the kiss but, in the meantime, I’m the one still reeling from it. I’m the one on edge all the damn time from that one kiss. I’m the one who hasn’t forgotten and I might be in big trouble. Because her hat falls on the ground and when he goes to pick it up and tries to put it on his head, I immediately get up from the stool and stride toward them, quickly.

Her back tenses as soon as she realizes he’s not giving the hat back. Her arms are crossed in front of her and I can’t tell if she’s saying anything. I make it right in time to hear him say, “Wear the hat, ride the cowboy. Let me put it on, sweetheart, so you can take it from me and we can get out of here.”

“I wouldn’t put that hat on your head if I were you,” I snap. Cara turns immediately to face me with drawn eyebrows.

“Why? I was dancing with her first, jackass. Besides, she’s not stopping me, right sweetheart?” he says, with a smirk on his face that I want to erase with my fist.

“You saw an opportunity to get her alone and took it. And don’t call her sweetheart,” I bite back.

“I’m perfectly capable of handling myself.” Cara stomps on her feet and narrows her eyes at me.

“Do you want this ass to put your hat on, Cara?” I ask, ignoring the dude standing next to me, hat still in his hand .

He leans in closer, a mocking glint in his eyes. “My name is Dale, not ass. Why don’t you say that to my face though? Ask me if I want to put the hat on. This is a bar, not a courtroom, and it seems to me the lady was having a good time and I’m here to have fun, too. Looks like the problem is you, so if you can’t handle that, maybe you should back off.”

Cara’s frustration boils over. I can see it in the way her cheeks flush, her arms fly up to her chest crossing over it and her eyes narrow. Oh, she’s pissed. She steps between us, lowering her hands to her hips.

“Enough! I’m not some prize for the two of you to fight over. Just let it go and give me my damn hat.” She pulls the hat away from him and storms out of the bar.

“Cara, wait!” I shout, barely keeping pace as we burst out of the wooden double doors and into the humid, bustling street. The air is thick with the scent of street food and exhaust, but Cara’s focus is unwavering. Her hips sway with urgency as she turns left into a narrow alley, away from the chaos of the crowded avenue. Horns sound in the background as the music fades from the different bars.

“Cara, por favor, slow down.” My voice is a broken plea as I walk as fast as I can behind her, trying to catch them, but she doesn’t slow. Her heels echo faintly but sharply on the ground as she seems fuming and more annoyed the further away she walks from me. Finally, she stops, her shoulders heaving with frustration. With a dramatic movement, she puts on her hat and spins around, her eyes blazing with anger.

“What the fuck was that?!” she shouts, her voice bouncing off the alley’s walls. Her hands fly to her hips in an exasperated gesture. “You’re giving me mixed signals, and I can’t keep up with this! One minute you’re all sweet and charming, and the next you’re treating me like a little sister. ”

I close the distance between us, my own frustration boiling over. “Cara, it’s not like that. I didn’t mean to?—”

“Not like what?” she interrupts, her voice rising. She’s standing so close now that I can feel the heat radiating off her. Her eyes are locked onto mine, and there’s a raw intensity in her gaze. “One minute you’re kissing me and touching me gently, calling me bebé and shit, and the other you’re just winking and smiling at everything that crosses in front of you. But then when someone else tries to get close to me, then you turn all caveman on me. Protective like I am ten and need my big bro to come and set a boundary.”

“It’s not protecting you like a brother, Cara,” I add between clenched teeth.

“Then what, Manny? You clearly don’t want me, but God forbid I want someone else.”

“You wanted him, Cara?” I ask, getting even closer to her and letting my words hang in the air between us, mingling with the stale scent of the alley. “Because wear the hat—ride the cowboy, right? That’s what he said… is that what you want? To go home with him?” Her breath intertwines with mine, and I can see her swallowing hard. Whatever this emotion she’s feeling is, anger, frustration, lust, is palpable, fueling a sudden, electric tension between us.

Her back is against the wall now and I’m caging her in with my hands right next to her face. “I got all caveman on you like you said not because I think you’re a sister to me, Cara.” I pound my fist on the wall and bring her hand to my chest. “You feel that? That’s my heart about to come out of my chest because I was fucking jealous, not because I thought you needed saving. I’ve been dying to kiss you again every second of every minute of every hour since our first kiss. I told you I had never kissed you before because I knew that once I had a taste of you, it wouldn’t be enough. And I was right. I want more, Cara. I need more.”

“Manny,” she whispers and I close the space between us, crashing my lips to hers. This kiss is fierce and demanding. This kiss is urgent and filled with all the emotions we’ve been dancing around. The rough brick feels cool against my hand, a stark contrast to the heat of the kiss but if I bring my hands down to her body, I won’t be able to stop myself from touching it all. She arches her back, pressing her breasts against my shirt and all I can think is fuck it all. Fuck all restraints and all inhibitions. If I want her, I need to let her know.

My hand glides down her back and under her ass, lifting her slightly and she wraps her legs around me. I press her hard against the wall, biting her lower lip, and licking it before continuing to kiss her. And that I do. I kiss her. I kiss her until time has lost all its meaning and everything else ceases to exist. I kiss her until I can’t breathe anymore and the only air I’m breathing is hers. I kiss her until there’s not two of us anymore but one tangled mess of each other.

Our breath is ragged as we break apart, our foreheads resting against each other’s with the hat forgotten. The alley is silent now, or at least it feels that way, because right now all I can hear is her soft breaths and all I can see is her green eyes looking at me. Everything else fades away.