Strike a Pose (Blame It on Fame #1)

27. Willow

Chapter 27

Willow

I sleep in the next morning, finally crawling out of bed just before noon. I check my phone and see nothing from Riley, but there are two other texts.

Heena: Your parents told me the news about your mom. I’m so sorry, Will. Want to talk about it? I’ll be in LA when you get there tomorrow.

Mom: How’s the trip with Riley going? I love you!

I ignore both. I can’t think about that right now. Instead, I take a quick shower and throw on a flowy white minidress paired with an oversized denim jacket and the boots Riley gave me. At least I look the part of a normal girl, even if everything except the boots is custom-made couture. No one needs to know that, though. I add a few layered necklaces and rings and a Yankees cap—not quite a cowgirl hat, but it’ll do. I’m just finishing up my quick makeup routine when there’s a gentle knock on my door.

“Willow? It’s Riley,” he adds, as if I wouldn’t recognize his voice.

I open the door and see him in a similarly country outfit—worn jeans and a sherpa jacket layered over a dark hoodie. My eyes make their wa y up to his face and catch on his discolored jaw, a dark purple color made even brighter by the midday light streaming in through the blinds in my room.

“I just wanted to see if you were awake. And to apologize again.”

“Riley,” I say sternly. “If you apologize to me again, I’ll actually be mad at you. You have nothing to apologize for. I mean, seriously, isn’t it every girl’s dream to have a big, angry cowboy defending her honor?”

“Well, it’s nice to know city girls aren’t immune to the country boy charm.” He grins back, looking like a weight was lifted off his chest.

“So, what’s on the docket for today?” I ask, waving him into the room as I plop down on the side of the bed. He remains standing but takes a few steps into the room.

“I believe I promised you horseback riding,” he says. “And as much as I love that dress, I don’t think it would be conducive to riding,” he adds, daring a look at the lacey hem of the dress, which rode further up my thighs when I sat down.

I smirk and pull the hem up over my hips. Riley quickly averts his eyes at the motion, the tips of his cheeks reddening almost imperceptibly.

“Willow,” he warns. “What are you doing?”

“Riley.” I laugh. “Look.” He does no such thing. “Riley, I’m wearing shorts.”

Finally, he looks. An unreadable emotion washes over his face. “See, I can wear this. Perfectly appropriate.”

“You have a twisted sense of humor,” he answers. “But fair enough. Ready to go, then?”

I nod and we head downstairs. We greet his parents and grab a hasty breakfast, although I suppose it’s more of a lunch, before heading out the back door toward the stables. The view from Riley’s backyard is incredible. There’s a large green field dotted with little white flowers, and beyond it lies miles and miles of mountains. I count at least seven different peaks, all reaching up toward the fluffy white clouds. Despite it being March, it’s pleasantly warm thanks to the radiance of the sun today.

“Did you grow up riding horses?” I ask as we walk into the stables.

“Yeah, for as long as I can remember,” Riley says, leading a chestnut-hued horse out of its stable and starting to tack it up. “This is Lucky. I got her for my tenth birthday.” Lucky snorts in response, seeming to affirm the truth of his statement.

“Lucky?”

“Hey, it seemed like a pretty badass name at the time.”

“I can’t believe you were one of the kids who actually got a horse for their birthday,” I tease.

“You’re one to talk, Willow Jordan.” He rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “What did you get, a yacht?”

“Okay, I don’t know if I would call it a yacht . I mean, it only had a three-person crew.”

“Willow.”

“I’m kidding!”

“Are you?” he asks, tightening the saddle on Lucky.

I catch myself following the path of his veins from his hands up his forearms before disappearing under his sleeves. I look away, fixing my gaze on Lucky instead.

“Well, it was really more of my dad’s gift to himself than a gift for me,” I deflect. “I mean, what can an eight-year-old do with a yacht?”

Riley chortles. “You’re ridiculous. What was it called, The Willow ?”

“No, I got to name it. It would have been really weird if I named it after myself. ”

“Go on,” he prompts as he leads out another horse, this one white with tiny brown spots. “What did you name it?”

“ The Seashell Princess ,” I mutter.

“What was that?” He definitely heard me. He just wants me to say it with my full chest.

“ The Seashell Princess ,” I say louder.

“That’s the best thing I’ve heard in a long time.” You’d think all this laughter would hurt Riley’s bruised jaw and split lip, but apparently not. “Where is The Seashell Princess these days? I think you owe me a trip in return for this one, right?”

“Last I heard, it was being rented out for tours of the Mediterranean. But if you really want to go on it, I could make some calls, I guess.” I shrug, trying to see if he’s bluffing or not.

“Don’t worry about it.” He waves me off, giving me my answer. I knew he couldn’t give less of a shit about my money. “I think all your luggage would sink such a small boat anyway,” he adds with a smirk.

“If my bags didn’t, your attitude might,” I quip. “Best to leave the poor boat alone and afloat.”

“Smart choice. Alright, Duchess is all ready for you. She’s my mom’s horse, super docile. You’d have to really fuck up to have her buck you off.” He smiles deviously, patting Duchess before leading both horses out of the stables and into the sunlight. They look beautiful all lit up, Duchess’ white coat glowing golden and Lucky’s chestnut coat glowing red. Even Riley looks beautiful, his green eyes and blond hair glinting in the light.

“That’s reassuring…” I say, walking out toward him and Duchess. She’s tall.

“You’ll be fine, Willow. I won’t let anything happen to you,” Riley promises, noticing my trepidation. He helps me into the saddle before mounting Lucky. “First things first—” he instructs “—si t up nice and tall, making sure your weight is balanced. You hold the reins like this.” He shows me how he’s holding his leather straps in loose fists with his thumbs pointed toward the sky.

I copy him.

“Perfect. Now, to get her walking, gently squeeze her sides with your feet. And to steer, just lightly pull on either side of the reins, depending on which direction you want her to go in. And to stop, just pull back on both sides.”

I do as he says, but Duchess doesn’t move.

“Why isn’t she moving?” I ask.

“It probably has something to do with your iron grip on the reins. Lighten it up a little.”

I do as he says and squeeze her sides again. This time, she begins walking after Lucky and Riley towards the woods.

“There you go! You’re a natural.” He smiles as I catch up to them. “I had a feeling you’d be an exceptional rider,” he says in a suggestive tone.

“Riley!”

“Hey, we couldn’t have gone horseback riding without me making one joke about it. But now it’s out of my system.”

“Mmhm,” I say, not trusting that for a second.

We ride for a few minutes in comfortable silence as I acclimate to the new skill. We trod up a mountain trail, going around a few large curves, up and down a couple of small hills, and even through a shallow stream.

“So,” I start, unsure if I should broach the subject but decide to against my better judgment. I’ve been curious about it since he briefly mentioned it a few weeks ago. “You mentioned that a lot of your album is about an ex.”

He groans beside me. “Oh God.”

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” I quickly interject. “Sorry, I don’t know why I asked. It’s not my place.”

“You can ask anything you want to know about me, Willow,” he responds. “It’s just not the most pleasant topic, is all. But yeah, most of it was about Claire, my ex-girlfriend. We started dating our junior year of college. She’s…an interesting character.”

“What do you mean?”

“She was very pretty. I mean, clearly no competition to you.” He lifts a corner of his mouth.

“Riley.”

“But she was very pretty,” he continues. “She was from Charlotte and the only child of two really successful, wealthy business people. And she had such confidence and conviction. Like, when Claire said something, people listened. She had tons of friends and was even the class president of our entire year at App State.”

“Okay.”

“And she was super interested in me. So I started going out with her. Why not, right? But then, after a few months, things started getting pretty serious. We were always together, and I couldn’t go anywhere social without her, or else she’d freak out.”

“That doesn’t sound healthy,” I comment.

“It wasn’t. At the time, I just thought we were in love or some twisted version of it. I had never really had a real girlfriend before, only little flings. So I thought this was just how it went.

“But then she started going to things without me. In fact, several times, she would bring other men along as her ‘dates’ to events. Like, I remember her bringing someone else to her dad’s company Christmas party and again to a debutante ball in her hometown. She told me that these guys were just friends and that she just didn’t want to trouble me with going back to Charlotte with her for these events…and I believed her. Even though she would have never let it fly if I had tried going somewhere without her, much less with a date.”

“That’s awful.”

“It gets worse. Then she started getting drunk and saying shit to me. The first time she said anything really mean was one night when we were out with a pretty big group, and she called me ‘white trash’ in front of all of them and then laughed it off like it was a joke. Then, another night, she admitted she didn’t bring me home because her parents would be ashamed of her for dating me. Then, she started saying this stuff while she was sober. She said that my accent made me sound stupid and tried to convince me to train it out. Once, she acted genuinely surprised that I knew how to read because I was raised in the country. And she had seen me read many, many times. I mean, we were in classes together .”

I’m surprised my skin hasn’t literally caught fire with the way my blood is boiling. “She sounds like an absolute cunt,” I say, unable to piece together any other words.

Riley chuckles and raises his eyebrows at my language. “Yeah, maybe she is. I was blind to it for a long time, though. I kept making excuses for her behavior. That she was drunk, she didn’t mean it. The list of things I’d tell myself was a mile long. But yeah, that’s the story. I’m sure you’re so glad you asked,” he adds drily.

“I’m glad you told me,” I say as our horses climb a mild incline. “And I’m sorry that you had to go through that.”

“It’s alright. I got a hit album out of it, right?” he jokes, trying to add some levity to the conversation.

“Still. You didn’t deserve a single second of that. She shouldn’t have taken advantage of your good heart like that. She abused your kindness. ”

“No, but it’s alright,” he dismisses.

“I know nothing I can say about it would make much of a difference…but I think it speaks volumes about your character that you were able to stay kind and trusting, even after an experience like that. It only reflects poorly on her character, not yours. It takes strength to remain soft.”

“Thank you, Willow. It means a lot,” he says candidly.

“How long were you with her?”

“A year and a half.”

“God, if I ever meet her, it’s on sight ,” I seethe.

“She’d probably try to befriend you. You being famous and all. In fact, she’s texted me a few times since my music career took off, trying to get back together.”

“I hope you blocked her.”

“I did one better. I changed my number.”

“Good for you.”

“We should probably head back,” he says, and we turn back the way we came. “I have something else planned for us tonight.” He grins deviously.

“No riding involved?”

“Probably not, unfortunately.” He laughs.