Page 35 of I’ll Paint You a Sunset Someday

October 2045

Hallee

All it took was one look at my grade A insecure face for Avery to attempt to calm me down. “Come on, Hallee. It’s for fun !” she insisted.

Fun—I’m starting to hate the word.

We were pretty indecisive about what to be for Halloween until girls’ night a few weeks ago, when we watched a romantic movie with the world’s hottest cowboy. It took approximately five minutes for us to agree that it’d be fun to save a horse and—well, with one look at our sexy cowgirl inspiration—the boys jumped overboard on their Three Musketeers idea.

I was excited . . . until I wasn’t. Isn’t that how this always goes? The longer the outfit lays on my bed, the more I question all of my life’s decisions.

Bless her heart , it taunts.

I swear it said it with the sweet Southern drawl of a country woman. Wearing a literal bedsheet wouldn’t deter Dean from being excited to see me, but this nervous pit in my stomach is pulsing with desperation to not be disappointing to him, or to myself. There’s no actual standard that constitutes failure in my head, just an overarching idea that I want to feel a certain way. It’s wrong if it’s not just right.

“Do you want tough love, or do you need to be coddled?” Avery asks. I hadn’t realized she was still standing there.

“Tough love.”

“Brace yourself.”

Obeying, I tap my fingers together three times. Although, what she thinks is rude is usually rock bottom of one of the nicest things you could say to someone.

“Ready?”

No, but I nod yes.

“For the love of God, stop being such a little bitch.”

“Ope.”

“You’ve got it, babes! Flaunt it. If not for yourself, then for your man. You want to be someone he’ll proudly show off? Stop thinking about wearing that bedsheet to the club.” She points at the wrinkled sheet on my floor.

“I didn’t. I—”

“Finish your hair, paint your lips red, and put on the fucking cowgirl boots or so help me, Hallee, I will take a bottle of vodka and shove it down your throat.”

“Yes, ma’am!” I cheer, playfully tipping an invisible hat to her as she continues.

“You will not be for everyone, just as rainy days are not, so stop trying to be. It’s annoying and unhelpful. Shine where you can.”

A pin drop would be audible in this silence. She’s right, I won’t be for everyone. Rainy days are really nice, though. They serve their purpose.

Avery’s face grows a deeper shade of red every second we stand frozen. I’d never heard her cuss before. Didn’t know she had it in her, but we’ve all changed since the beginning of the year. Tonight will be the proof of that.

“I’m sorry, Hal. You wanted tough—”

“Stunned,” I whisper, exhaling and holding up a hand as I brace myself on the edge of my bed. “The woman is too stunned to speak.”

Laughter spills before I can continue to scare her.

“I hope someone spills a drink on you tonight!” Rolling her eyes, she frowns and stomps off.

“The guys are meeting us there, right?” Marlowe calls from her room.

“Yes, why?”

“Because . . .” She pauses, sliding into my doorway. “I don’t think we’d make it to the club if they came here.”

Matt is one lucky guy. At least, I think he is. I still haven’t asked.

“I can do this.” The words leave my lips before embarrassment shuts me up.

“You can do this, babes. No time like the present.” With a wink goodbye, she closes my door, leaving me to drown in thoughtful silence.

If I’m doing this, I’m going all in.

These jean shorts are a surefire way to gain some attention, but if they don’t catch it, then this sheer white crop top will. It ties together at the front and does nothing to hide my firetruck red bralette. I wanted to go with black, but Marlowe insisted. The boobs match the lipstick, the lipstick matches the boots, and the black glitter cowgirl hat matches her soul.

As I head to the kitchen to join them, the sound of my clicking boots practically snaps their necks. Marlowe’s mouth hangs open as Avery shouts, “Yeehaw, cowgirl!”

“Yee-hawty!” Marlowe screeches before whistling.

“Is yeehaw our new catch phrase?” I ask.

“Yes,” they say, nodding in unison.

“It’s scientifically impossible to say it without smiling,” Avery smugly answers.

“Well, how do you feel?” Marlowe asks.

“As sexy as I look!”

“Attagirl!” she cheers.

Glancing in the mirror, we do some final touch-ups. Best guess? We’re running eleven minutes late. Telling time without looking at the clock is what happens when your largest personality trait is remaining on schedule. Glancing at it anyway, I chuckle under my breath. Only ten minutes late. How dare I be one minute off. Still my gut twists a little. Maybe the cold wind will freeze my nerves and remind me—things that scare me can be fun, too.

Dean

The music should be able to beat away my nerves about Hallee running late, but I know my girl. She doesn’t just run late.

Whiskey warms my cheeks as I down the rest of my glass. How much time can pass before I freak out? Because I’m kind of freaking out. Hudson and Matt are unphased by their late arrival. It’s not uncommon for Avery or Marlowe to run late. Hallee, though. Well, you know.

Voyaging to the bathroom, I scan the sea of bodies in search of my treasured sunshine. The search continues as I pass the long line of women waiting for the restroom. Yet again, I’m thankful to be a man, but if there’s any part of womanhood that seems fun, it’s the drunk bathroom conversations. If the entire world were as supportive as a women’s restroom, world peace might actually be attainable.

Closing the men’s restroom door cuts off a loud compliment about a girl’s red lipstick. Apparently it matches her bra. The cold sink water fails to wash away the anxiety written all over my lovesick reflection. There’s no harm in checking in, right? Might as well send a text.

Howdy, baby. Where’s my pretty lady?

An ironically timed ding resounds as I exit the restroom, but it’s just a random guy uncomfortably standing alongside the women’s bathroom line. Maybe he’s waiting for his date? Don’t know, and don’t have time to find out. I’ve got my own girl to worry about.

Fear, the bull, bucks me off, kicking my gut as I spot two sexy cowgirls flanking Matt and Hudson. As nonchalantly as possible, I push through the crowd and tip my hat to the ladies. I may be injured from the rodeo, but I’m not a jackass.

“Evening, ladies. You look mighty fine tonight, but you seem to be missing one. Where’d my angel get off to?”

Avery opens her mouth but, out of thin air, a lasso appears and tugs me backward. My balance wavers as small, familiar hands spin me ?round.

“Howdy, stud. Lookin’ for me?”

Does that confident voice really belong to my girl? Takes me three takes to believe it. There she is—hook, line, and sinker.

Here I am, mouth agape like a fish out of water. If I’m not the luckiest man on this earth then I’d love to meet whoever is. One look at her on my arm and I’d prove him wrong.

She’s so fit. In apple-pie order, really. I’d always run up the barrel of a gun for her, but with that red lace on her chest? Might run a smidge faster. Love it so much, I could almost swear I recognize it. Wait a second—do I recognize it?

“What’s the problem, darlin’? Barn cat got your tongue?”

She makes fishing look easy, but all the words I try to reel in break the line as the lasso slides down my body, pooling at my feet.

Normally I pride myself on self-control, but tonight I’m a bull seeing red. I’ve seen a lacy bra before. On her, even, when one thing led to another, and I couldn’t care less about the red lips or boots.

Why is my attention so fixated?

“Dean?” Her hand shakes my arm. “Is it okay?”

Insecure innocence has replaced the confidence in her wide eyes. She’s bracing for an insult, tugging at her shorts as if she can stretch them longer. Feels like a shot in the foot. Reaching up and twisting her hair is the shot in my other foot.

“Sorry, Sunshine. Your getup has me speechless.” The country accent butters her up, relaxing her shoulders and restoring her confidence. Still, the situation has me rattled more than a tail on a rattlesnake.

“Dance with me!” she yells.

“Drink some water and I will!”

Her eyes roll, bowling over every expression except mischief.

“If you won’t, I’ll find someone who will.” Glaring at me, she takes a swig of her drink.

As she whispers something in Avery’s ear, I hold my ground, but my stomach sinks as Avery nods. Shit, she wasn’t bluffing, and now she’s pulling Hudson to the dance floor.

“Hallee,” I call, but it’s no use.

My woman’s on a mission, and Hudson’s gladly cashing in the one free pass to dance with her. There’s a chance he would’ve turned her down if he were sober, but even then it’s slim. Avery and I sip our drinks as we watch her man touch my girl in places only I should.

“Crazy, isn’t it?” she asks, chuckling half-heartedly.

“I’m sorry,” I say, and I’m not sure why.

“If I cared about that, I wouldn’t have told her to do it. It’s crazy how much I trust him already.”

“More than I do,” I admit.

“You’re her everything, Dean. Only someone secure in their relationship could tease their man with his best friend. After all, she’s watching you .”

Avery might be the wisest of us. She’s definitely the most comforting.

“You gonna step in?” Matt asks, handing me another drink.

“I called her bluff but she delivered. I’m going to see how this show plays out. My bet is she folds first.”

Avery nearly spits out her drink, shaking her head as she says, “Absolutely not.”

“No chance,” Matt scoffs, stepping forward.

Before his foot can hit the ground, I grab him by the shirt collar.

“Take one more step and I’ll kill you.”

He lets out one loud “ha” before muttering out of the side of his mouth, “Down, boy.”

“It’s all a game until it’s not,” Avery taunts, and anger bubbles in my blood as Hudson’s fingers climb up Hallee’s thigh. Watching them slip under the edge of her shorts makes the tips of my ears hot and my steps heavy.

“Enough,” I yell, shoving him off of her. Harder than I meant to, if I’m honest.

“It’s about tim—” she tries, but I shut her up with a kiss. Her lips open for mine as our bodies close every inch of space between us, and the room spins as kissing turns into missing her lips on mine.

“Jealousy looks good on you, Dean,” she admits, giggling as she sways into me, yet I can’t help but remember how sad her eyes got the first time I saw her in the club.

“And you look good on me,” I reply, sliding my hand into her right back pocket as I give her another quick kiss, just to remind everyone in this place that she’s mine.

“Well, stud,” she says, laying her hands on my chest. “How ?bout you and I skip the rodeo and head out into wide open spaces?”

“Lady, that’s a mighty fine idea.”

Don’t even know if I used that correctly, but her cheeks turn pink as a pig. Same color they turned when she was talking about a cowboy who said it in a movie.

“Leaving so soon?” the bouncer asks, adding a mumbled, “Have fun, buddy,” when Hallee’s too distracted to hear.

Matt and Hudson said the same thing, probably assuming we’re headed off to take advantage of the empty apartment. More than anything, I want to talk to my best friend, and I think Hallee feels the same. It’s uncanny how we can be on the same page without saying anything at all.

Hallee made Marlowe take a Polaroid of us before we left. She’s been keeping all of them recently, and as much as I want this one to be mine, in the end I’ll fold in the fight. Placing it in between two fingers, I hold it out to her.

“Back left,” she insists, winking as she turns her back pockets to me. Sliding it in, my fingers swipe over one that’s already there.

“What is—”

Oh.

It’s her in the red lace—and only the red lace.

“Consider it an early Christmas present.”

So that ’ s why they went with red. Call 911, her mischievous smile has set me on fire.

Wait— I’m 911.

Barely holding on to composure, I smile widely and admit, “You just keep surprising me, Hal.”

Loves to see me flustered, my girl, so she skips in celebration of a mission accomplished as she changes the subject. “It’s a beautiful night out here.”

Talking about the weather usually means she doesn’t know what to say, which in her case is rare. It’s my turn to lead, but there’s no good way to say, I’m shaken up by the color of your bra, but not for reasons you might think. Actually, I’m frazzled because it feels familiar?

That practically screams, I think I got blackout wasted and cheated on you, which isn’t what I think. Is it? I’d never allow that to happen, right?

There’s so much about me that I don’t know. I can’t remember what type of guy I am. I only know who I’ve been because of her, and he wouldn’t cheat—ever.

She’s all I want.

Forever , her voice rings out in my head. Makes me nervous again, like it’s our first date.

“Do you know how to say your alphabet backwards?” I blurt.

Really, Dean? What the hell was that?

Her high-pitched giggle draws a smile out of me like an artist draws on paper. If this is all I ever get to do, live a slow life walking around in circles with her hand in mine, then it’s enough for me.