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Rhett Abbott was straight.
At least that's what the default assumption was in Wabang, Wyoming.
It was a western, conservative territory. Otherwise, there was an unspoken "don't ask, don't tell" etiquette among townsfolk. It wasn't too much of a burden to be queer, considering there was an out lesbian as the Deputy Sheriff. But that didn't mean Joy Hawk hadn't faced any hardships at all because of it.
Rhett Abbott was raised to be a "real man." He instantly got fixated on the concept of bull riding in his childhood and he was always teased by his elders whenever there was a girl his age right next to him.
There was nothing wrong with being queer. Rhett was taught to be respectful and kind, and that's what the Abbott family was all about. But if Rhett was queer? It was never a conversation. He was "too masculine, too much of a ladies' man" to be, so there were no concerns there.
Surely enough, that statement would soon be challenged once you came into the picture.
You were Rhett's close friend, knowing him for a few years now. It all started with you helping him shotgun a Miller Lite at a lively bonfire party. He fucked up with the first can and wound up spilling it all over the ground. As you witnessed his pathetic endeavor, you decided to assist him with a new can, puncturing the hole for him. Obviously, you both got drunk that evening, but Rhett seemed to be more hammered than you. The friends he came with were nowhere to be seen, so you stayed with him the entire time, driving him home once you finally sobered up. Ever since that night, you never left his side.
But that was years ago. Now, you had a much deeper connection, one that was more unconventional than anything. Don't take this the wrong way, it was beautiful. But it also wasn't comprehensible. It reached places farther than just friendship, yet it didn't quite meet the criteria for a real, romantic relationship either.
There was one thing for certain, however. Rhett Abbott simply couldn't be with you. It was well known—rather, well assumed—that he was straight.
So he didn't question this very moment; his head on your lap as you stroke his brown locks. Apparently, Rhett got into serious trouble. He wasn't specific about it as he blabbered to you in a panic, but he also knew you weren't the kind to pry. You would just do things for him without asking.
"Will you be my alibi for last night?" You could hear the urgency over the phone just through his anxious inflection.
He needed you. "Yeah. Sure."
And so, he came to your place in pursuit of solace. And you provided. After all, that's what friends were for.
Rhett lightly shifted his position on the couch, continuing to revel in your touch. His blue eyes bore into the wooden wall across from him, feeling the stress from his brother's actions slowly fading away.
He knew he shouldn't feel anything for you. He knew it wasn't right, to fall for his close friend. He knew it wasn't right to fall for someone like you.
"You okay?"
But he couldn't help it.
"What?" Rhett huffs in alert, slightly turning his head to face you.
Your hand that was in his hair lightly pushed him back in position to convey he had nothing to worry about. "You've been quiet," you mumble, gentle fingers continuing its ministrations, "something else bothering you?"
The man on your lap sighs deeply. "Everything's just so fucked up," he mutters bitterly, almost nuzzling your thigh with the slight stir of his nose.
Rhett was six feet tall, weighing around 150 pounds. He would frequently work on the ranch, having his fair share of chores. He would get into bar fights and he rode bulls for a living. But none of that mattered right now; he felt like the smallest person on earth as long as he was in your arms.
"Thank you for doing this," he mumbles, shutting his eyes briefly in exhaustion, "I know it's very... inconvenient."
"Yeah, well," you scoff softly, "you should know by now that I'm used to your troublemaking tendencies."
He let out a quiet chuckle in response, inhaling deeply in order to ground himself.
"Mm. Yeah," he sighs, before a bittersweet thought crossed his mind. "What would I do without you?"
Rhett sat up, untangling from your arms. He was beside you on the couch, searching your eyes with a hint of desperation. He needed to be close to you.
He felt like a magnet. It felt like you were falling—an excruciatingly slow fall towards him. You weren't sure what came over you, because your face moved closer and closer to his until your lips touched.
He kissed back.
You were kissing Rhett. And Rhett was kissing back.
Your hands were limp as your mouth moved with his, feeling his gentle, moist lips meshed with yours. He was lost in the sensation, exploring the foreign territory of intimacy with you. He kissed you deeply, his tongue already parting your mouth to taste you. Yet, while it felt like a millennium, the kiss concluded promptly.
Rhett sank back into his spot on the couch, and the two of you just stayed there motionless, processing what had just happened.
It's always been deemed so wrong, but it felt so right. He wasn't supposed to kiss a platonic friend. He wasn't supposed to kiss someone who wasn't a woman. He wasn't supposed to kiss you. No matter how much his body seemed to crave it.
Women were his forte, and that was the end of it. From childish crushes on girls in grade school, to hopeless yearning for Maria Olivares in high school, he's always liked women. And sure, his cowboy peers may have looked fairly attractive to him. And maybe that librarian always seemed to have a pretty smile on their face. But it didn't mean anything. There was no way it could have been sexual attraction. Rhett Abbott was straight. He had to be.
After all, everybody expects the bull-wrangling, church-going Abbott offspring to be a well-respected, good old fashioned role model of a man.
Rhett gulped, overwhelmed with a sense of guilt and regret as his next words would break the long streak of silence.
"I wish you were a girl," he murmured.
He wasn't looking at you, as his eyes were glued to the floor—glassy and scintillating.
You expected this of him. You knew it in your heart that you loved each other. But Rhett was stubborn and he had a reputation to hold. He never wanted to risk being a disappointment. Even if that meant hurting you.
"I'm sorry," he utters.
You always knew it was never going to work out.
"Me too."
You just didn't expect it to be this painful.