Page 61 of Spiral
The bubble of my private moment with Georgia pops instantly, and the blaring sounds of country music and drunken college kids engulfs my senses. He places an arm around Georgia’s waist, pulling her against him roughly, and a look of discomfort flashes across her eyes.
“Dude, watch it–” I interject instinctively, gesturing towards the vice grip he has on her waist.
Watson clicks his tongue, a look of offense contorting his features.
“Come on, babe. You’re with me tonight,” he hisses, turning Georgia away and guiding her back to the dance floor.
I watch as they walk away, my chest burning with envy as Watson touches her. She’s dressed like I’ve never seen before – a skin-tight, ultra-short red dress clings to her curves and enhances her cleavage. Her boots are heeled, causing her hips to swing more than usual as she walks, her perky ass bouncing with every step. Her hair is down and curled differently than normal – away from her face in soft waves that flow down her back. A teardrop necklace hangs from her neck, dangling just between her breasts.
An unmistakable heat grows in my jeans as I gawk at her, and instantly multiplies in intensity as I watch her make her way towards the mechanical bull in the center of the bar.
No fucking way she’s riding that.
Georgia steps onto the platform surrounded by wood fencing, a determined and poised expression on her face. A seductive smirk plays across her lips as a few of the men leaning against the railing whistle and holler at her, including Watson.
What is happening right now?
“Ladies and gentlemen,” an announcer begins over the loudspeakers, the country music muting beneath his thick Texas accent, “we’ve got a lovely little lady over here who's gonna take on Ole Bessie. Whoo-ee!”
The lights in the bar gradually dim, leaving only the ones encircling Georgia atop the mechanical bull.
She grasps at the rope with one manicured hand, flipping her hair delicately over her shoulder as she does it. Her satin dress hikes up as she spreads her legs over the bull, tightening the fabric over her ass and immediately conjuring images in my mind of how good she’d look riding me.
God damn, Henry. Get it together.
A slow and seductive country song starts, the singer’s drawn out notes electrifying Georgia’s every move as the bull slowly quivers to a start beneath her. Every man in this bar is staring at her, jaw hanging to the floor, as she moves her hips up and down, slowly and gracefully, to the rhythm of the bull.
As the song picks up, so does Ole Bessie’s speed – but Georgia doesn’t waver. She tilts her head back, smiling sweetly with half-lidded eyes, as she follows the smooth movements of the twisting bull. An intoxicating laugh escapes her lips as the bull suddenly spins 180 degrees, whipping her curls behind her and filling the surrounding air with the scent of vanilla perfume. Her eyes, glowing dim like embers in an old fire, suddenly meet mine.
Wait a minute. Is she doing this to taunt me?
Her provocative gaze is fleeting, but the effects of it linger as my heart picks up speed and breaths grow shallow.
If so, it’s working.
The bull suddenly slows to a stop as the song fades around us, the neon spotlight still illuminating Georgia in a seductive glow as she hops off the machine. Her beauty is accentuated in the dim light of the room, all eyes still on her as she exits Ole Bessie’s confined arena.
I picture her marching over to me and collapsing into my arms, telling me she forgives me, begging me to take care of her, to never let her go. The sweet smell of her perfume would fill my senses as I lift her off the ground and carry her out of the bar – far the fuck away from Todd Watson.
The same Todd Watson who, in one swift, possessive motion, wraps Georgia into his arms and rams his lips to hers.
36 | Georgia
HIS MOUTH TASTES like cheap whiskey and cigarettes.
I try to pull back, fully aware that I’d just put on that show solely to gain Henry’s attention and piss him off – and now I want to see the fruits of my labor. But Todd’s grip is too strong, jamming his lips against mine, with the smell of his cheap body spray engulfing us as he swiftly gropes my ass.
“Hey!” I yell, lips still squished to his, muffling my protests.
I look to where Henry was standing, half-expecting him to stride over and deck Todd in the face for groping me. But he’s not there. Scanning my eyes across the bar fervently, I finally spot him – just as the front door swings shut, with him on the other side.
“That was fun,” Todd grunts, his demeanor relaxed as we exit Stetson’s with his arm draped across my shoulders.
The sudden silence of the night, when compared to the hours of blaring country songs we just endured, is almost jarring.
“Yeah. Thanks for bringing me.” My tone is cold and distant as we drive off into the night, my mind wholly distracted by my interaction with Henry.
Is he being honest about not dating Natalia? Did Todd actually hit him on purpose? There’s no way. Was Henry jealous about me being with Todd? I hope so. That’s what he gets for–