Maybe Once, Maybe Twice(61)
I studied his face as fireworks lit up the sky.
“Don’t go,” I said, quivering.
He hesitated, then took a step toward me, leaning his face down so that we were nose to nose, our sweaty foreheads pressed against each other. I could feel his body shaking against mine, as I undid the tie around his neck, then the buttons on his shirt, one after the other, neither of us moving.
“Okay,” he exhaled.
Garrett kissed me—his warm tongue sliding inside my mouth as I pulled him closer and closer. All at once, I felt a sharp object edge into my back. Before I could turn around, a strong force sent our bodies flying to the ground.
I landed with a thud on top of Garrett, my heaving chest pressed against his naked torso. I peered upward, slack-jawed, to find tiny hoofs racing past me—hoofs belonging to the white miniature pony, Dolly. She had broken out of her stable, and was now prancing toward the open field in the distance. Garrett and I shot one wide-eyed look at each other, scrambled to our feet, and ran after her—just two traitors running side by side trying to catch a rebellious miniature pony—a pony who was barreling toward the engagement party tent.
31
THIRTY-FIVE
BAREFOOT AND COMMANDO, I SPRINTED for my life through the dark field. Wind howled against my cheeks as Dolly ran yards ahead of me. She was the corgi of horses—tiny legs, long body—but she thought she was a fucking Great Dane. She jumped over a low crossrail with her head tilted proudly to the fireworks in the sky.
My hip slammed onto a low post, bringing my legs to a halt. I winced, holding the pounding pain on my side, unable to do anything but watch as Garrett darted after Dolly, his natural athleticism putting me to shame. Dolly inched closer and closer to the glowing vineyards in the distance—to the engagement party tent. I taught my body how to move again, beads of sweat dripping down my curls as I picked up the pace behind them.
“What do we do?” I yelled to Garrett, on his heels.
“Catch her,” Garrett yelled back dryly.
“I think you need to outrun her. And then get her to turn around.”
“Oh, okay, I’ll just outrun a horse.”
“You ran the New York Marathon. You can outrun a pony!”
“One of those things doesn’t equal the other!”
Under any other circumstance, Garrett would be shaking his head at me with his devilish grin, and I would be shaking my head right back. Yet, sadly, banter while running for your life is rarely full of heart flutters and flirtatious smiles.
My chest thumped harder as Dolly barreled toward the fence that stood between the vineyard and the field. There were rows of grapevines between us and the party tent in the distance, but if one person walked out of the tent, they would see Dolly, and then they would see us. Garrett’s shirt was unbuttoned, and I looked like I had almost fucked someone in a barn. It would be unexplainable on every level.
Dolly slowed her hoofs to a stop at the fence and turned back around toward me. I leaned against a high-jump hurdle, exhaling relief. Garrett quietly walked toward Dolly, just as she turned her back to him, burying her pink nose in the hay to refuel before her next 3K. Garrett cautiously tapped his hand on Dolly’s back like she was a door.
“What are you doing? You’re not supposed to approach a horse from behind!”
Dolly whipped her head at Garrett, her big brown eyes narrowing on him, her ears pointed toward him like she was a bull and he was a bright red flag.
“How was I supposed to know that?” he asked, as he stepped back from Dolly with his hands in the air.
“You’re a privileged white kid from Connecticut,” I hissed.
Dolly edged her hooves into the dirt, eyes unblinking on Garrett. I moved in front of Garrett with my palms outstretched, crouching down to Dolly’s level.
“Hi, Dolly,” I said, offering her the front of my hand.
Her ears softened as she let me pet the bridge of her nose.
“What do you say we get you back home?” I asked, walking in the direction of the barn.
I turned around, hopeful that Dolly would be on my heels. She hadn’t moved an inch. Unfortunately, there was no halter and also no rope to lead Dolly back to her home. I glanced up to the sky, clenched my eyes shut, and drew in the dusty air. Dolly was a miniature pony. I was also miniature: standing at five-foot-two. If a three-year-old could ride Dolly without going catatonic, so could I. I opened my eyes with my heart pounding, I sucked in courage, and I climbed on board.
“What are you doing?” Garrett asked.
“The article in front of Dolly’s stable—it says she loves nothing more than giving pony rides.”
“To children,” he said.
“Well, I’m improvising.”
I laid my stomach along her spine, lifting my leg in the air. I was far too adult-sized to make getting a ride from a miniature pony look good, but damn, this bitch was loving it. Dolly trotted toward the stable, giddily, and I couldn’t help but smile as the warm breeze hit my cheeks.
The pace was slow and steady, until suddenly, dirt started to fly in the air, wiping the grin off my face. Terror took over as Dolly’s little hooves picked up speed. My eyes widened to saucers, seeing us galloping ahead, toward a low crossrail.
“Dolly, don’t you fucking dare!” I yelled.
She fucking dared.