She shakes her head, “I rode my daddy i-in the living room.” The crowd roars, a mix of applause and laughter rolling through the dusty air.
She hands the girl her belt buckle prize. “Well, all that practice paid off—make sure you share this buckle with your dad, okay!”
The crowd goes wild.
Chapter Twenty-Five
NASH
It’s impressive how they keep this show on the road. When one thing is done and they’re setting up for the next, they make sure to keep the crowd entertained. Sometimes they have a game on the big screen where you can text to play trivia questions about farm animals. When the kiss cam starts up, I’m delighted. We roar with laughter when the camera shows a girl in her twenties next to a guy with a ballcap on and she starts violently making a ‘no’ gesture with her hands. The man points to her and mouths ‘that’s my sister’. The camera changes quickly after that as the audience roars with laughter. The next victims are an older couple who are obviously married, and we all whoop when he kisses her passionately.
The next face I see on the screen ismine? What the hell?
I almost fall out of my chair as I watch me and Wyatt on the camera. Time stops as I take in his broad smile on the screen right over where it labels him as a Houston Hurricanes player. I glance at myself for a millisecond and see “Houston Moon” under myself in bright pink script. I’m still looking atthe screen, so I see Wyatt’s hand move toward my face in real time as he places it on my cheek and pulls me closer. Our lips meet, and I know the crowd is going wild, but I can’t hear them over the rush of blood in my ears. I kiss him back, giving him every part of me I’ve been wanting him to have. His lips are warm against mine, and I get a quick taste of the powdered sugar he missed with a napkin. I’ve been kidding myself for the last nine years. Convincing myself that I can live without this affection from him for the rest of my life… What was I thinking? Wyatt only breaks the kiss when Noah nudges him with an elbow. “Dude, the camera cut away.”
Wyatt kisses me one more time, and if I didn’t know any better, if it wasn’t just wishful thinking, I would think that maybe it was to show me that he doesn’t care that the camera isn’t on anymore. That he’s kissing me because he wants to this time. When we pull away again, I try to read his eyes, but he just seems pleased with himself. Is that because he can see the flush of pink in my cheeks from having the life kissed out of me, or because he’s doing his job as my fake boyfriend, getting me the attention I need in front of everyone here?
I startle in my seat as the announcer booms over the speakers. “Ladies and gentlemen, the lights will be going out shortly.” It’s the same guy it’s always been since I came here as a tween. His voice is deep and easily recognizable from the rodeo circuit. A trickle of hesitant cheers once again ripple through the crowd, raising the hairs on the back of my neck in anticipation.
It’s been years since I’ve been to the rodeo, but I have great memories of coming every year as a kid. From grades five through twelve, I went to at least one night of the rodeo. In high school, I usually went with a group of friends or the guy Iwas dating at the time. I’ve missed it so much the last nine years while I’ve been gone. It’s no Roman Colosseum or Trevi Fountain, but it holds a special place in my heart.
And something about being here tonight with my friends, new and old, makes me feel like I can fly, like anything is possible. For the first time since I got back, I really feel like I’m home. At rest. I’m not afraid to have a spark of hope. That this league will be successful. That this hare-brained scheme is going to work. And it’s not going to ruin us. That we will still come out on the other side of this best friends like we’ve always been.
The spotlight comes back, shining bright on the far entrance, and the crowd begins to rile itself up again. It starts at a dull roar, but when the snout, then head, then ears of a horse appear through the gate, it kicks up to a galloping cheer.
The newest star in country music, who happens to have grown up about an hour north of here, rides out on his horse. He waves to the crowd on his way to the stage.
“That’s the kid one of your college teammates went to high school with, right?” Wyatt yells in my ear so I can hear him over the strums of the first song.
I lean in and yell back, “Yeah, he wore rhinestone jeans and everything, apparently.” No one is surprised he made it here. Except, maybe him.
I turn to the stage and start to sing along. The sad lyrics paired with the heavier drums does it for me every time. I’m belting about my lover leaving me for another man, lost in the music, when I catch a glimpse of Wyatt’s face out of the corner of my eye. He’s watching me watch the show.
“What?” I ask.
He shakes his head with a smile on his face. “Nothing.” Ielbow him in the ribs. “You just look so beautiful.” The lights from the slowly spinning stage fly over our faces in their rotation.
I feel his words hit me like a kick in the gut. Like a kill shot to the face, the ball bouncing off my nose. Maybe it’s the energy from the rodeo, maybe it’s the thrill of the concert, or maybe it’s Wyatt’s words that make me feel like he looks so good in his boots and new hat. I’ve seen him done up a hundred times before. Just last month he was in a full suit at the NFL Honors, but tonight, I must have dust in my eyes because he looks different.
Sexy different.
I physically can’t help myself from touching him, so I reach out to straighten his collar.
He grabs my wrist with his hand. “Nash…” His voice is hesitant, but his eyes are full of hunger.
We’re already neck deep in this. Why not add a couple more feet of quicksand? “I want–”
“Thank you, Houston!” The crowd whoops and hollers in response. “I’m just a kid from Conroe with a guitar and a dream. You made them come true.” The band picks up again, playing along with him as he moves back to where a staff member is bringing his steed.
Colin leans over to us and yells, “Time to go. It’s going to be a pain to get out of here.”
I look back at Wyatt again, the words I was about to say still stuck on the tip of my tongue. If I chew on them any longer, they’ll get stuck in my teeth like the saltwater taffy they sell at the zoo. But he’s watching the singer canter away on his horse, decidedly not looking at me.
In the quiet, exhausted walk toward our car, I decide it’s forthe best that I didn’t get to finish that sentence. If Wyatt was interested in something physical, he would have said something after kissing me at my going away party.
But he didn’t.
And he still hasn’t.