Here’s something that sucks. Once the attraction switch goes on, you can’t turn it off. The desire, the want, it’s always there. You can use your brain to control your dick, but you can’t stop your dick from wanting what it wants.

In some ways, Janet had been right. I’d been pretty smug about the whole living with Ellie thing. I felt sure that as a good man—and I thought of myself as that, influenced more so by Ellie’s father than my own useless one—that I wouldn’t have any impure or lustful thoughts about a girl who was both young and vulnerable.

And I didn’t.

Until I did.

Now, I can control my actions. I can tell myself not to think about her in that way. I can work myself until I’m so bone-weary tired every night that sex is the last thing on my mind. That had been working pretty well so far.

Except tonight was Ellie’s eighteenth birthday. Her real present was still waiting for her at home—I faked her out with the no-present thing this morning and told her I was taking her out tonight instead as her gift. And it was a gift. Tonight was Under Twenty-One Night at the country line dance bar I had brought Janet to a year ago. And tonight I was here with Ellie.

She and Chrissy were dressed up in their tightest jeans and cutest western shirts, shaking, kicking, and stomping their asses all over the place. Meanwhile I stoically stood in the corner, sipping on a beer and letting them have their fun.

I watched her. She was beautiful. Graceful and smooth on the dance floor. With a smile so wide any guy would turn his head to see it. She’d suffered so much tragedy in her short life, but Ellie was filled with this bright light.

It made her glow.

But of course I could do nothing. And say nothing. I had managed to avoid our needs talk, but now I was seeing maybe it had to happen. Maybe there needed to be rules.

Because as I was standing here stoically in my corner, I watched as other guys her age asked her to dance. I watched as guys my age asked her to dance. I stayed in my corner. I didn’t say a thing—mostly because I knew who she was going home with tonight. But I burned inside.

When the one guy’s hand moved down her back toward her ass. When the other guy had her pressed up against his chest as he moved her around the dance floor. When that last guy bent to say something in her ear and she tipped her head in a way that made me think he was going to kiss her neck.

All of it was gut-wrenching. It sucked because I couldn’t control it.

Nope. Once the switch was on, it stayed on. There was no going back.

That kiss had changed things. That day had changed things, too.

Now I was stuck in this marriage, platonic of my own choosing, lusting after my wife, who was dancing with other guys.

I should ask Ellie where she would put that on the scale of one to ten of suckiness, because I was going with a solid nine.

The last dance ended and the girls peeled away from the crowd. Ellie searched the bar for me, and it felt good when her eyes landed on me. Like it was important to her to know I had her back.

She bounced over, tipped her cowgirl hat back on her head, and tried again.

“Come dance with me.”

“I don’t dance,” I replied. Just like I had every other time she asked.

“I’ll show you the moves. It’s so easy, and you’re in a line of people so it’s not like you stand out or anything.”

I turned to her friend. “Chrissy, what one particular thing do you know about me?”

“You don’t dance,” she said, then giggled. It was a funny giggle. Like a drunk giggle, even though she was wearing the pink wrist band which announced her age.

“I don’t dance,” I told Ellie, and then I watched as Chrissy swayed a bit on her feet.

That wasn’t dance swaying. That was drunk swaying.

“Shit.”

“What?” Ellie asked.

“Chrissy, what are you drinking?”

“Diet Coke?” she said, holding up her red solo cup.

“Chrissy, another thing you should know about me. I’m not an idiot. What are you drinking?”

Ellie turned to her friend. “You’re drinking without me? That’s so not fair. It’s my birthday.”

Chrissy winced. Apparently she saw the selfishness of her actions. “Okay, so maybe this guy bought a shot of rum for me and put it in my drink. Okay… maybe there were like four shots.”

“Not cool.” I looked at my watch. “It’s after eleven. I don’t want to ruin your birthday or anything…”

“No. It’s fine. I’m getting kind of tired and my feet hurt in these boots.”

“Noooo,” Chrissy protested. “I think I’m in love.”

“Point him out, then go wait for me by the door.”

Ellie narrowed her eyes at me. “Jake, let it go. Chrissy was just being Chrissy. She probably asked for them.”

“A shot I let go. Maybe two. Not four, and knowing Chrissy, it was more like five. Which means some asshole is trying to get her drunk so he can take advantage of her. What do I always tell you?”

“Trust no one. Great motto by the way.”

“Trust no one. Never a guy and not with your drinks. It sucks that there are creeps out there in the world, but they exist and you have to watch for them. Now, hold on to her while I go deal. Chrissy, which one?”

Chrissy lifted her hand in the guy’s general direction. I saw who it was instantly, as he was staring at Chrissy. Not a good kind of stare either. He was waiting for the booze to do the trick.

It wasn’t until I was almost on him that he straightened up. When I got up close and could see the face under the cowboy hat, the motherfucker was easily over thirty.

“You like to feed underage girls drinks,” I said to him. It wasn’t a question.

The guy got his back up. “She asked for a drink, so I bought her one. Big deal.”

“Even though her wrist band clearly showed she was under legal age.”

“Whatever. Dude, I’ll move on if you’re upset.”

“What I am, is sickened by the thought a man almost, what… double her age… tried to get her drunk so he could do… What was the plan, anyway?”

“Dude, go fuck yourself. I was trying to have a little fun.”

I nodded like I was in agreement. “Yeah, I get it. No confidence. Or self-esteem. Or whatever it is you’re missing that makes you think a girl will only like you if she’s drunk. You’re a pathetic piece of shit and I’m sorry people refer to you as a man.”

“Fuck you, I can get any piece I want.”

I turned to the bartender. “I’ll take…” I turned and eyed up the guy. “Seven shots of Fireball.”

The bartender lined them up quickly in front of me and just poured through the glasses.

“You want to show me what a man you are? You fed the girl who is half your age and half your size four shots. Let’s see how you do after seven?”

The man grimaced. As if seeing the numbers made him realize exactly what he’d done. Or at least I hoped I made my point.

Then the man sneered. “Fuck you.”

“Dude, trust me. The only thing you’re going to be fucking tonight is your right hand. Have a solid jerk off, douchebag. Try not to think of me when you do.” I took one of shots and fired it down. “Yeah,” I drawled, “little pussy like you … you probably don’t want to drink those. Bartender, you want to pass those out to those pretty ladies in the corner and tell them I said to stay away from this guy?”

“Sure thing, bro.”

I made my way to the girls, where Ellie was talking to the bouncer and pointing back at the asshole.

He nodded. “Yeah, I know the guy. Comes here all the time on Under Twenty-One night. He’s an asshat. I’ll take care of it, honey.”

“Thanks, Bob.”

“Have a nice rest of your birthday.”

She beamed at the guy. “It was the best birthday ever!”

That made me happy. That I had given her a fun night.

I followed the girls to my truck as Chrissy bobbed and weaved from side to side.

“I’m still so pissed at you for not sharing,” Ellie was hissing at her.

“You know I can hear you, right?”

She turned and gave me her what-I’m-so-innocent smile.

And I wanted her.

Nope. Not a switch you can turn off.

* * *

We dropped drunk Chrissy off at home. It wasn’t pretty. After who knows how many shots, she was wasted. The good news was her parents were in bed, so it went down with little drama.

Ellie and I poured her through the front door, and she was on her own. Make it to her bedroom or bust.

Then we drove back to Ellie’s…her place…our place… my place?

I called it the house. Long Valley was the ranch. The house was the house. It wasn’t hers or ours. It was just the house. Not a home either. Which in some ways made me sad, but I was a guy and we typically don’t get sad. For myself I simply try to force it away.

Forcing away sadness was a lot like trying to force away desire. It wasn’t always easy. I had set the wrapped gift up on the kitchen island before we left for the bar. I wanted it to be the first thing she saw when we got home.

Ellie always poured herself a glass of water right before bed, so as soon as we got inside she made her way to the kitchen.

I heard the gasp and smiled.

I liked that I’d made her gasp.

I followed her into the kitchen and she was holding the box to her chest. Like it didn’t matter at all what was inside it. Hell, I probably could have wrapped an empty box and she would have been happy with that.

I liked that she was that kind of girl. The kind of girl who understood that it was truly the thought that counted.

“What is it?”

“Open it and find out.”

She started to tear through my very bad wrapping job. “Did you get me what I asked for?”

“You asked for a vibrator. No, I did not get you what you asked for.”

“The gift of pleasure, Jake. You shouldn’t mock it.”

She opened the lid on the box and slid out the Styrofoam. Then when she opened that, she gasped again.

Nestled inside was a beautiful silver scale. Two disks balanced on either side, and two containers with five silver disks in each. She set it up on the able and opened the silver disks. Holding one in her fingers.

“You’re always going on about your scale of one to ten…” I felt a little awkward. Because she wasn’t saying anything. Just looking at it thoughtfully, as if it were a puzzle to be solved instead of scale. “Figured now you had the actual physical representation of it.”

“I love it,” she said quietly. Then she turned to me. “You always give the best gifts.”

I nodded and waited for it. My hug. Every year I gave her a gift and every year she hugged me for it.

Not this year, apparently. Because instead of hugging me she was playing with the disks and putting them on the scale.

All ten on one side.

“Today,” she said.

That had to be enough, because it was all I was going to get.

“Good night, Jake.”

“Good night, Ellie. Happy Birthday.”

She got her water and went upstairs and I stood there like a statue for what was definitely too long, fighting off the disappointment that I didn’t get my hug.

Because it was all I would let myself have…I wanted it really badly.