Page 76 of Untamed
“Holy shit,” Haylee says, wrapping her arm around mine again. “He really left tickets for us?”
“Apparently.” And the fact that he knew to leave two, like he knew I would bring Haylee . . . I think I like him even more. I don’t dare throw around the love word; it’s a word you give meaning to, not something to throw around.
Because of our minor detour, we missed the opening ceremonies. Inside, the sight before us is unreal. Un-freaking-real. It’s loud. That’s the first thing I notice. There’s a man on a bull, nineteen thousand fans screaming, the smells of dirt, manure, and the thrill of adrenaline-soaked riders risking their lives all for an eight-second ride. Haylee scrunches her nose. She hates that smell, but it’s part of the experience.
It’s unlike anything I’ve seen before. I’ve been to rodeos and have seen bull riding, butneveron this scale. I don’t notice I’m breathing heavily until the thudding in my chest echoes in my ears.
Immediately I can see the allure of the sport. It’s in the adrenaline, the guts, and the pride it takes to experience the most dangerous eight seconds on dirt. As one tames a bull before us—or attempts to—another five watch his every move, waiting for their chance at the beast they drew.
“This is crazy,” Haylee shouts over the screaming fans and the announcers when we take our front row seats.Front freaking row!
The rider on the bull registers a four-second ride before he’s bucked off, the crowd cheering him on when he manages to get away from the bull rearing by his head. Bullfighters quickly detour the bull back to the bullpen. Despite the rider not scoring, it doesn’t deter the crowd any with their cheering.
Scanning the sinewy cowboys hanging over the rails, I search for that cream hat. My problem is there are so many they begin to all look the same.
“I wonder which one is Grayer. They all look alike in hats and chaps,” Haylee notices, looking around.
She’s right. They do and then I panic a little. “I hope we didn’t miss him.”
Scanning the crowds, I notice one thing. The world of professional bull riding is popular. The women . . . there are so many with their tits out and they’re going just as crazy as the bulls, hoping one of these cowboys will glance their way.
It’s then I spot Grayer about twenty feet from me. The man who made me travel across the United States to see him. It’s definitely him. I’d know that terribly handsome face anywhere.
He’s leaning against the rails, elbows resting, and head bent forward slightly watching the action in the middle of the arena with another guy beside him, both pointing out different things and deep in discussion. The black vest covered in sponsors, the leather chaps . . . oh,fuck.
Be careful, heart. He’s dangerous.
“That’s him,” I say to Haylee, pointing in Grayer’s direction and giving him a whistle.
He hears the whistle, his head jerking toward the sound. His eyes search the crowd and then land solely on me. He traps me in his gaze immediately and I take a deep breath, swallowing over the sudden lump in my throat. For a moment, I think I see disappointment, or maybe it’s relief?
His gaze studies me intensely, and then he smiles back at me with the power to knock me off my feet. Then he nods and I think I see a wink. I’m far enough away I can’t tell though.
Do I wave? Blow a kiss? No, don’t do that.I smile though. I’m not sure what else to do.
“Who’s that next to him?” Haylee asks. Only I can’t break Grayer’s stare.
“It’s either Reid or Ty since the back of his vest says Easton.”
Grayer’s attention is being demanded beside him, but his gaze remains locked with mine. He smiles, slow and lewd, and then turns to the guy next to him. He’s being called to the chute and I’m thankful I haven’t missed his ride. I’m so excited my bones might as well be buzzing.
When he’s in the chute, he peeks up at me again.
Have you ever seen a boy show off for a girl? It’s entertaining to watch, but you know it’s happening when he gives it his all, knowing she’s watching, just to prove he’s worth it. I have a feeling that’s the case and I couldn’t be more excited to watch him do just that.
The announcer comes over the speakers as “Electric Pow Wow Drum” thumps wildly through my chest. “Currently ranked number one in the Built Ford Tough standings, just a few points ahead of his older brother helping with the flank strap, this next rider is one of the best and he’s proving it. In 2014, he qualified for his first world finals and won it. From Decatur, Texas,Grayer Easton.”
Be still, heart. You’re going crazy.
The crowd roars to life, as do Haylee and I. What catches my attention is the female response to him. It’s clear he’s a fan favorite. My stomach turns, watching and wondering immediately, why me? Look at these girls around me. I bet he has his choice of any of them, yet he asked me to come.
Stop it, Maesyn.
I hate that my nerves are making me think like this because it’s so unlike me.
Grayer throws his leg over the chute and mounts Bushwacker, the bull he drew. He’s wearing his hat, unlike the rider before him who wore a helmet. How rebel of him.
“Easton is coming off an injury in Las Vegas, but he seems tougher than ever. I talked to him in the hallway this afternoon and asked him how he was feeling and if he had a plan for drawing Bushwacker, the same bull who tried to end his career last year.” The announcer laughs. “You know what he said?There’s no game plan but hang on and try. This sport defines what danger means. We play the game and we take the pain.”
