The operator chuckled and opened the gate for me. “My apologies… Miss.”
As I crossed the threshold, the operator called out, “Alrighty, here’s how it’s gonna go, you control how fast this is. If you’re good, you signal me a thumbs up. Stop’s a thumbs down.”
“Inventive,” I said under my breath.
“Unless a yell or scream comes first,” he joked. “Just give whatever you can.”
“You can count on it,” I promised.
“You should try for the record. Maybe you’ll surprise yourself,” David called in a mocking tone once I stepped onto the padding. I had to take my boots off. My wet socks squeaked against the plastic underneath me.
“And what’s that?” I played along even though there wasno way in hell I’d stay on this thing for more than a millisecond.
“Seven minutes.” David gestured to the clock behind me, pointing to the record time beneath the current timer. “You get free drinks for a year.”
“Well, in that case…” I gripped the handlebars near the “head” of the bull and wrapped my arm around its “body.” With a deep breath, I pushed myself up to swing my leg over. The operator was polite enough to look the other way, hiding his laugh. David? Not so much.
“Might want to use the stirrup.” David rested his elbows on the wooden gate surrounding the bull. He looked entirely too entertained. The only thing missing was a bucket of popcorn.
My cheeks burned when I noticed the very convenient stirrup. I didn’t know how I had overlooked it before. Maybe it was the nerves coursing through my veins, or that David hadn’t torn his gaze from me once. I was approaching full-panic mode.
With a determined inhale, I gave myself a quick mini pep talk. In moments of doubt, I imagined myself to be someone else. And tonight, I needed to be a rough-and-tumble Yara—a girl who rolled with the punches and mounted bulls like a champ.
My second attempt at the bull went much smoother. I yelped in celebration, tossing both arms in the air like I was a ref calling a touchdown. A few people nearby clapped for me, too. My business-casual attire had garnered attention. Could a cubicle worker stay on a bull longer than a seasoned rider? Stay tuned to find out.
David gave me a clap, too. It was slow and mocking, matching the glint in his eyes. He was so ready for my fall.
“All good?” the operator asked when I finally stopped squirming around to find a decentposition.
“Not much traction,” I complained, mostly to myself.
“That’s the point,” David reminded me.
The operator chuckled and nodded in agreement. “You ready to start?”
“One sec.” I held my middle finger up to David. He laughed and returned the gesture. “Okay, now I’m good to go.”
The machine kicked into motion. Despite the slow, steady back-and-forth at the beginning, I squealed enough for the operator to ask repeatedly if I wanted to stop.
“No, no!” I gripped the strap so tight I thought my wrist might pop out of the socket. “I can do this.”
Somewhere along the line, I decided I was genuinely going to try for the record. Yes, I had a bad habit of being one of the densest women in the world. But when push came to shove, I always went big before going home.
A few onlookers whistled and cheered for me when they realized I hadn’t gone flying off the bull in the first second. Instinctively, my legs tightened, and my body moved in rhythm with the rocking. I was moving too fast to make out anyone, least of all David. But I knew he was still watching and waiting.
The operator asked if I wanted to go up a notch, and I gave him a thumbs-up. Bad idea.
My neck whipped around enough that I knew I’d feel soreness in the morning. And my ass cheeks… God, I thought my upper body would get most of the workout during this process.
As expected, I felt like a fool on this silly machine. Had to look like one, too. Was there any way to look good on a bull? There had to be some kind of technique because the up and down appeared erotic when I’d watched clips of people doing this in the past.
Once again, the operator asked if I wanted to go up anotch. I gave him another thumbs up, and my hand barely went back down before I got thrown onto the mat.
Thankfully, I landed on my side and not my head. The impact was hard enough to knock the wind out of me. My small crowd cheered. I stayed flat on my back, not moving for a second as my brain caught up with my body.
“You okay, miss?” the operator asked, sounding concerned, but it was David who joined me on the mat.
His head appeared over mine. I got an upside-down view of his face. He placed his hands on either side of my head, leaning in to get a better look at me. The worry in his eyes was new. It bloomed, traveling to his jaw, tightening the muscles. I have invoked many emotions in David over the years. Mainly those that sparked arguments and fueled grudges. But this emotion looked ready to trigger an apology session. A plea for forgiveness. Even some groveling.
