Page 74 of Untamed
A bull ride originates inside a gated steel box called a chute. There are typically six chutes at each PBR competition lined lengthwise at one end of the arena. However, some events have a set of six chutes at each end of the arena for a total of twelve. The bull rider and bull remain in a designated chute until the arena is clear and the rider has strapped his hand in his bull rope. When the rider is ready, he nods, signaling the gate man to open the chute gate and allow the ride to begin.
It’s nearing three Friday afternoon when Haylee and I realize we might be lost heading into Biloxi. Having driven pretty much nonstop, we also realize we can’t follow a map, which is ridiculous because we also have GPS on my phone and still can’t follow it. You would think it wouldn’t be that hard. We pull off the interstate and sit along the side of the road, each passing 18-wheeler rocking our truck sideways.
“Damn it.” Haylee rips the map from my hands and stares at it, her brow scrunched in concentration and finger following the interstate lines. “We were supposed to take exit 1-C off I-10 into Biloxi.”
“We missed that.” I frown nervously. Haylee hates being lost about as much as she hates the color yellow. Which is a lot. “I don’t think we were on I-10.”
“Apparently.” She tosses the map on the floor in frustration and looks out the windshield. “What time does it start?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t say.”
Haylee sighs, picking the map up again and then looks back at me. “Do you know where it’s at?”
“No. I know it’s in Biloxi.”
She glares. “Do you know anything?”
“No. . . .”
“Well, did you talk to him about it?”
“No. He just . . . well, I was about to thank him for giving me the best orgasm of my life and he told me to meet him in Biloxi and tell him when I got there.”
Haylee considers this. “Well . . . you’re a lot of fucking help. Call him.”
My finger hovers over the Call button, both in shock that I have the name Grayer Easton in my contacts, and that I might call. But I don’t. I can’t. “No. I can’t do it.” My eyes widen. It was the obvious thing to do, but I refuse. No way am I calling him. What if he doesn’t answer? What if he . . . ugh! Fuck my what-ifs.
“Why?” Haylee presses.
“I’m scared,” I admit, because I can to her. It’s Haylee. She gets me. If anyone is going to understand me, it’s her.
“We suck at Thelma and Louise.”
“Yes, we do.”
Haylee stares at the map a little more intently, gives up, and then we find a gas station another five miles away to ask for directions. Still, with barely any clothes on, she runs in for directions. This time I stay in the truck.
“Oh my God, Maesyn.” Haylee slams the door when she gets back in the truck. “It’s like another hour away, the other direction!”
“Well, I’m sorry. Apparently I can’t read a map.”
“Apparently. Hey, you have a fancy phone,” she says, pointing out the obvious. “Turn on your navigation. I can’t get lost again. This is driving me crazy.” Haylee puts her key back in the ignition and the truck rumbles to life. “But first let’s stop for food. I’m starving.”
“No. Let’s just get there.”
She gives me that look. The one where she sees right through me. “You just want to go for the dick.”
“Not true.” I’m trying to defend myself, but the flush in my cheeks gives me away. “I want to watch him ride. We don’t know what time it starts. What if we stop for food, then we miss him ride.”
“Uh-huh. You just want to get there for him to rideyou.”
