Page 50 of Timber's Line

“I’m in management.” He smiles at me. If I didn’t know he had ulterior motives, I would think he was a nice guy.

“That sounds interesting.”

“It’s alright. Nothing as glamorous as fighting, but it pays the bills.”

“Cut.”

I get up to leave, but he holds me down. The camera crew moves away, not thinking to get me. I don’t want anyone to know something is wrong.

“You thought you could just go on TV and act like you’re America’s sweetheart?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, sweetie, you must remember the night we all had.”

“We all?”

“You’re so cute playing dumb, and it’s going to happen again.”

“I’m not the person you think I am.”

“I know exactly who you are, and I’m going to win this little game. Can’t risk you getting away from us again.”

“I don’t know what happened, but I’m not that girl.”

“You’re a slut and a horrible drunk. You like to talk, and you like your friend’s husband. You’ve sucked more cock than a stripper—your words, not mine. You hate your mother.”

Oh, fuck.

“You also were a virgin.”

Wait, past tense?

“You wanted it.” He walks away.

What the fuck? I had a crush on Memphis at one time, but I would never try anything. I think it was because I needed a guy who would protect me. Maybe I still do. If the things I said to him got out, my life would be ruined.

“You okay?” Dayton finds me sitting in the same spot.

“Just go away.” No one would want me after losing my virginity in a drunken stupor or after the thousands of dicks I sucked.

Even worse, if all the things about my family were put out there, my family would be crushed.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says as he sits next to me. I can’t stand to be this close to him, knowing I’m not the sweet girl he thinks I am.

I skip a few rocks, listening to the soothing forest sounds. I don’t even move when I feel it start to rain. I can hear everyone moving to cover the couches and the equipment and moving toward shelter, cabins, trailers, and the house. I don’t move, hoping the rain will wash my sins away.

“I wish I was a duck,” I snort.

“What?”

“I wish I was a duck and everything would be simpler.”

“I don’t think it would be. You’d still have to be aware of hunters.”

“I guess. Maybe that would make it easier.” I wipe tears and rain away.

He grabs my chin and pulls me closer. Our foreheads are touching, and he kisses me softly.