9. Chapter 9
The thump of the bass in the hip-hop song fades into the twang of a steel guitar as people pair up to two-step. Coyote Canyon is by all means a country bar, but the DJ certainly knows how to mix it up.
Lisa and I scoot off the dance floor to stand under the air conditioner vent. After sweating my ass off dancing, I’ll gladly accept the blasting chill. But only for a minute. I nudge Lisa to let her know I’ve had my fill, and we head to the bar, dismissing invites from cowboys to two-step along the way. Settling onto our stools, we order two vodka-cranberries. These will make our fifth ones of the night, but the first we’ve paid for ourselves.
“Here’s to ladies’ night!” Lisa shouts as she clinks her glass against mine.
I have to laugh. Not because of Lisa’s enthusiasm, but also because I’m quite drunk. I’m feeling loose, like all the emotional weight from this afternoon has evaporated, and I can finally breathe.
I spent a lot of time thinking over what Lisa said about me and Sam. The idea that we had an insta-love connection was certainly romantic and exciting, but it was ridiculous of me to believe it. I see now that it was an insta-lust connection, and I’ve come to terms with that. I can forgive myself for sleeping with an extremely hot guy. It was fun, after all.
I wish I hadn’t wasted so much time pining for him, though.
Picking up my glass, I swivel on my stool to give Lisa and the guy she’s now chatting with some privacy. Maybe she’ll get another couple of drinks out of him. Not that I need any more.
The room is already wobbling a bit as I move, but it slams to the ground when I see Sam walk through the front door. He hands the bouncer his ID, his curls flopping around his handsome face as he scans the room. He’s got on an untucked, button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up his forearms, and jeans. Even from across the bar, I can see his eyes sparkling behind his glasses.
I spin back around in my seat and latch my hand onto Lisa’s arm.
She whips around, the wind from her movement brushing over me. “Brynn, what’s up?”
“He’s here. Sam’s here,” I say between breaths.
“What? Seriously?” She sits up to peer over my head toward the door. “What do you want to do? Do you want to leave?”
My eyes dart back and forth across the countertop. If I leave now, I’ll avoid interacting with him, but I’ll also be running away. I’ve let him ruin enough of my day, time to put my foot down. “No,” I say, lifting my head and squaring my shoulders. “It’s ladies’ night, so I have way more of a reason to be here than he does. Plus, this was my bar first. So no, we won’t be leaving.”
“That’s my girl!” Lisa claps her hands and waves the bartender down. “Two shots of tequila!”
I fight the urge to crinkle my nose. I’m already drunk, so doing shots isn’t the best idea, but since I’m already drunk, I feel invincible.
As we down our shots, the DJ’s voice comes over the loudspeaker, “All right, ladies and gentlemen, bull rides are open in ten minutes. Get your waiver signed now, and good luck!”
A huge grin spreads across my face as Lisa rolls her eyes. “You’re really going to do that thing again?”
“I do it every time!”
“Okay, but I have to pee first.” Lisa slides off her stool, giving me a pointed look as if to say, ‘are you coming?’
I shake my head. “I want to get in line.”
“Fine. I’ll meet you over there.”
I practically bounce all the way to the mechanical bull ring, which is a good thing because it hides the fact that I can’t walk a straight line. The vodka-cranberries course through me at full force, but that tequila shot did me in. As I stand in line, I sway from side to side. I hope it seems like I’m enjoying the music.
“I knew you liked to be on top, but didn’t know you liked it rough,” a voice says close to my ear. Not any voice, though. This one is deep, smooth, and it sends a shiver right down my spine.
I straighten my posture and turn my chin over my shoulder. “Well, I have to make up for the last ride I got.”
Sam cringes sympathetically, but keeps his stupid smug smirk. “Ooh, nice burn.”
I give him a mocking sneer before turning back around, and thankfully, country music fills the space between us instead of tense silence. The line moves quickly, and I’m signing my waiver before I know it. I’m beginning to think I’ll get through this line without further issue, but Sam has other ideas.
“So, do you come here often?”
I finish my signature with a flourish. Spinning around, I’m ready to tear into him about how he doesn’t get to talk to me anymore and how he had his chance to get to know me, but chose to be a jerk instead, when the room spins rapidly and I lose my balance.
Sam catches me by the elbow and rights me. “Whoa, easy there. How much have you had to drink?”
“Enough.” I rip my arm from his grip.
He shoves his hands in his pockets and juts his chin toward the bull. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“Never stopped me before.”
His mouth ticks up on one side. “You sure are stubborn, you know that?”
“Hmph.” I fold my arms across my chest and turn to face the bull ring.
As hard as I try, I can’t stop myself from swaying back and forth. It doesn’t help that I’m watching people ride a bull that’s spinning, rocking, and bucking out of control. It’s dizzying. I slump to my right and hit something warm and hard. When I turn my chin, I find Sam’s chest against my shoulder and his stupid adorable face grinning at me.
I wrench myself upright, planting my feet firmly into the floor.
“It’s okay to lean on people, you know?”
Anger seethes through me. I hate how soft his voice sounds. I hate how it makes me want to sink into his chest and let him cocoon me in his strong embrace. I hate that he smells so good right now, like lavender and sage. I refuse to let him in again.
So, as the bull ring employee waves me up for my turn, I look at Sam and say, “Too bad the last person I leaned on turned out to be another liar.” Then, I’m stalking toward the bull. I don’t even glance back to see if my words had any effect on him.
My hand wraps around the horn of the fake leather saddle as I put my left foot in the stirrup. Swinging my right leg over, I situate myself in my normal bull-riding position. I raise my arm in the air, and right before the bull starts moving, I find Sam. I don’t mean to look at him, but my eyes betray me.
He’s watching me intently as he shakes his head. It’s like he’s admiring me, yet admonishing me at the same time.
As the bull bucks and turns, I tighten my grip on the horn. It swivels, so I shift my weight. The operator is taking it easy on me, but I know it won’t last. Once they see that I’m no amateur, they usually take out all the stops. The sound of the gears revving makes my heart race. Soon, the bull is spinning and bucking without restraint, and I’m flopping left and right. Sometimes it pays to be this drunk.
This isn’t one of those times.
The operator makes a quick change in direction, and I’m toast. I go sailing off the bull, landing on the soft pads on my back a few feet away from it. Laughing at myself, I crawl across the mat because I can’t stand up. Being so drunk, and now terribly dizzy, my own legs won’t hold me.
At the edge of the mat, two hands grip my arms and lift me up. I’m still laughing when I stand and come face to face with Sam. Not even his concerned expression is enough to kill my giddiness.
“That was some show,” he says. “But you didn’t last long. Maybe next time, take it easy on the drinks.”
I snort derisively. “Sometimes the drinks are what help.” I point to the leaderboard, specifically the number one spot where the initials BAE are listed next to the time of twenty-seven seconds.
Sam glances at the board, then back at me with that stupid smug smirk again. I want to eat it off his face, but instead, I raise my chin in triumph.
He leans down close to my ear and whispers, “Guess I have my work cut out for me.” With a wink, he backs away and strides toward the bull.
No. There’s no way he’s going to beat my time.
After handing the operator his glasses, Sam hops on the bull like a professional, complete with the cocky showmanship, and raises his hand in the air. The operator starts slow, like with me, but also like with me, notices Sam isn’t a beginner. The bull starts moving faster, harder, wilder. It’s bucking and spinning every which way, but Sam never falls off.
I fold my arms, turning away, but the urge to see the timer is strong. I glance up. The seconds tick by incredibly fast, and with every one, my heart picks up speed. It keeps climbing, and Sam keeps holding on. The crowd cheers, growing louder with each passing second.
He’s going to fall off soon, I keep telling myself, but it doesn’t happen. The longer I watch, the longer he stays on. When the timer hits twenty seconds, my eyes flick between it and Sam. Every second they’re darting back and forth and I’m getting dizzy again. At the twenty-five second mark, I feel like I’m going to throw up. I can’t watch anymore.
I tear away from the ring, pushing through the crowd. Air. I need air. As I break through the throng, the buzzer sounds, and I freeze. My feet root to the floor.
“We have a new record! Thirty seconds!” the DJ announces over the speaker.
I nearly collapse. I manage to reach the bar where Lisa is still chatting up the same guy from earlier. Crashing into the stool, I grab her arm. “We have to go. Now.”
She spins around, wide-eyed and seemingly annoyed, but takes in my expression and nods. “Okay, okay.”
I don’t even wait for her to say goodbye to her new friend before I’m storming away. I have to get out of here. I need to get out of here. Lisa’s hot on my heels as I bust through the entrance door and into the cool night air. I let it fill my lungs, hoping it will help the nausea subside.
“Hold on, I’ll call the Uber,” Lisa says, tapping her phone screen. “What happened in there, anyway?”
The last two minutes race through my mind. Sam on the bull. The timer. The cheering crowd silenced by the buzzer. The announcement that I’d been dethroned. It’s all too much, so I scramble to the curb, and vomit into the gutter.
When I wake the next morning, I find Lisa sitting on the edge of my bed with a glass of water in one hand and some Advil in the other.
“Good morning, sunshine,” she says cheerfully.
I wince at the brightness of my bedroom as I scoot myself to sit up. “What’s so good about it?” I ask, taking the Advil and tossing them in my mouth. I wash them down with a small mouthful of water. “Thanks.”
She waits until I’m finished swallowing to ask, “Do you want to maybe tell me what the fuck happened last night?”
“Why? I thought I told you on the way home?”
“No offense, but drunk, hysterical Brynn is about as easy to understand as a toddler with a mouthful of marbles.”
I laugh, but it makes my head pound. “Ugh. Where do I begin?” I choose to start with Sam standing behind me in line. I tell Lisa all about our conversation, and how, even though it was snarky, the banter knocked my walls down again. The part about how his touch exhilarated me has her bouncing in her seat, but she listens all the same. When I get to the end, where Sam beat my time on the bull, Lisa practically laughs.
“That’s why you were so upset? A stupid bull ride?”
I sit straight up, and pound my fist into the mattress. “I’ve had that number one spot for how long, Lisa? A year!” I yell, but it only intensifies my headache, so I slump back against the wall, rubbing my temple. “No one has beaten me in all that time.”
“Dude, okay. Take it easy.” Lisa puts her hands up in surrender. “But it’s been a year. Someone was bound to beat you sooner or later.”
“Why did it have to be him?”
“Why does it matter? It’s a stupid bull.”
“It’s not just the bull.” I fold my arms, hugging myself. “Do you remember the night I set that record?”
Lisa nods and puts her arm around me. “Yep, sure do. It was my birthday.”
“And a week after Connor left.”
Lisa crinkles her nose. “Yeah, I forgot about that part.”
“Well, I haven’t.” I take a deep breath, my headache ebbing finally. “Connor leaving for New York broke me. I felt like such a failure, felt so out of control, and setting that record on the bull gave me something to hold on to.”
Lisa squeezes my shoulder but says nothing.
“That sense of failure came back after all this shit with Sam, and I don’t know, him beating my record amplified it. Like, I can’t hold on to anything. Ugh, is this making any sense?”
“No.” She grimaces, and I laugh. “But I know how much you like to have a handle on things, so I can see how all this Sam stuff has you turned topsy-turvy.”
“I don’t know what it is about him that makes me so dumb.”
“Um, have you seen the guy? I’d be a bumbling idiot too if a guy like that even looked at me. Phew!” She fans herself with her hand.
A giggle escapes me. “I have seen him. A lot of him.”
“Maybe you should hook up again.”
“What!?”
“You know, a hate-fuck. Get him in your system one more time to get him out of your system for good.”
“That’s got to be the answer,” I say sarcastically, laughing as Lisa elbows me. “There’s no way that would work.”
“It would at least be fun.”
Shaking my head, I sigh. “No. I think the best thing for me to do is to ignore the fact he even exists.”