Free The Ram by Erica Crockett

with whomever they want, when they want. So I’m going to bypass dickface Sev and fuck Nell. That’s my goal. Screw going back to work or succeeding in life. I’m going to plow that stripper.”
    Walker nudges Riley on his back to get him started for his door, but he doesn’t budge. His best friend tosses his hands in the air and shakes out the light brown hair shellacked to his head.
    “So you’re going to devote your energy to pursuing sex with a woman who openly detests you? And it will be your life’s focus? Really?”
    Riley doesn’t speak but nods his head yes.
    Walker gets back in his car, turns the ignition and rolls down the window. He rubs a stick of lip balm against his lips and returns the small tube to his pocket. “Get inside, idiot. Sober up and get a better goal.”
    He pulls away, off to his date and Riley stands, shaky from exhaustion and too much booze, no desire to make it inside his empty house even though the night is cool enough to make him shiver. One of the solar-powered lights at his feet blinks off, all the energy it’d harnessed from the sun spent, used to illuminate nothing.
     

22 Peach
     
    Another man is waiting for her when she gets home to her apartment. She puts on a forced smile when she sees Linx loitering on her little porch. He has a six-pack of a microbrew at his feet and a white bag in his hands. Grease soaks through the paper.
    “Thought fried chicken sounded good,” he says and leans in for a little peck on Peach’s cheek.
    She wants to tell him to leave. They didn’t have plans to hang out, but she can’t bring herself to say no to him, the task made harder by his gentle, earnest nature. And it isn’t special treatment for Linx. All her denials and refusals are polite and malleable. If anyone tries hard enough to reverse her decisions, she’ll likely cave. And this is a part of herself she plans on killing off. No more yielding Peach.
    “You’re a vegetarian.”
    “Good for you,” Linx says and follows her inside after she unlocks her door. “All the chicken goes on your dish. I’d be the best boyfriend. I’m considerate. And I even share my beer.”
    She wrinkles her nose at his offer to share his alcohol and watches as he puts the grease-soaked bag down in the kitchen and pulls a plate from the cupboard over the stovetop. Linx looks at Peach. She holds her cheeks in her palms, just briefly, trying to cradle away the exhaustion she feels.
    “Are you okay? I should have offered to take you out to a nice dinner. Somewhere they don’t let kids in. Or if they do, they can’t color on the tablecloths.”
    “I’m okay, Linx. Just tired. I wasn’t expecting company tonight.”
    He doesn’t bite at her insinuation. Instead, he rambles off a list of Boise’s nicest restaurants and promises to take her to one next weekend. He always knows what’s hottest on the dining scene, working in the food service industry himself.
    She lifts her face away from her hands and swallows. “I can’t next weekend. I’ll be busy.” She tries her best to calm the quiver she thinks she hears in her voice. She wants to act nonchalant.
    “Then tomorrow night. No excuses.”
    “But it’s not a date, Linx. Right?”
    He flicks his flat chest with his thumbs and index fingers, his way of playing coy. “No, not a date.”
    Popping a top off one of his IPAs, Linx heads into the living room. He flips on the television and spends several minutes perusing channels until he settles on something with ballroom dancing and commentators.
    She’s glad he’s distracted himself. Peach isn’t up to playing invested friend for the evening. She snatches a heavier coat hanging off a chair at her kitchen table and puts it on.
    “I’m going outside for a minute. Then I’ll be back for the chicken.”
    Linx waves a dismissal at her, engaged with a couple in matching attire swinging across the screen. Both dancers are bedazzled in copper sequins and feathered headdresses.
    She hopes to hear