"What for?" I ask.
He pins a seductive grin on me. "To get their girl and breed."
"Oh." I nervously laugh.
A few minutes pass in silence.
I eventually break it, asking, "Why do you love riding bulls so much?"
He stares into the distance, then reveals in a tone mixed with romance and excitement, "It's the only place where there's eight seconds of chaos yet a peaceful quiet. There's no past or voices I don't want to hear or remember. There's only the bull and me, both determined to win. And when I hit the dirt, win or lose, I remember I'm alive, and he didn't kill me."
"That's…"
He turns toward me and arches his eyebrows. "Messed-up, right?"
I nod, wincing. "Maybe a little."
He chuckles, the sound quickly subsiding into silence. A moment passes, and he adds, "If it doesn't kill you, it makes you stronger. And this fight for survival is my choice, not forced upon me."
My stomach flips. I put my hand on his thigh, blurting out, "So it's like some sort of therapy from your dad?"
His face hardens. The air turns cold.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."
His jaw twitches, and he shrugs. "It's fine. But don't call him my dad. He's just a sperm donor." He turns toward me and winks.
I softly laugh. "Sorry. I forgot."
"No worries."
"Wyatt!" Jagger calls out.
We both jump and look behind us. The silhouettes of Jagger, Mason, and Ava come barreling toward us.
Wyatt tears his hand off my thigh and rises. "Stop yelling. We're hiding."
Ava laughs and says way too loudly, "Are you trying to dodge Hazel too?"
The hairs on my arms rise. I roar, "Jagger! Mason! Neither of you two better have slept with her!"
"Eww!" Ava slaps Jagger's arm. "Don't tell me you touched her."
"Well, I could have," he boasts.
"Not a prize to brag about," Wyatt points out.
"Agreed. That girl is going to be a petri dish someday soon, if she isn't already," Mason states.
I put my hand over my mouth and giggle.
"Seriously. Can you stop inviting her over?" Ava asks as she plops down on the log, her drink sloshing over the rim of her plastic cup. "Whoops." She giggles.
Jagger unstacks the bottom cup from his drink, holds it out, and Mason pours something from a flask into it.
"Drink for the birthday boy," Jagger claims, handing it to Wyatt.
He takes a sip and grimaces.
