My head is right in the gutter. I look right down at his crotch, thinking about his bull. I swear his jeans look a little tighter in that area, reminding me how big he is down there. I giggle. This isn’t me, but I like this girl. These fruity drinks are what I needed to have some fun.
He takes a step away, distancing us farther, and points his hand. “That bull.”
My heart sinks that he doesn’t return my mediocre flirtation. I should have known better. I’ve been designated as always the friend. Even when we kissed, it has never meant more.
A mechanical bull turns and bucks around as people try to stay on for at least eight seconds. No one makes it, falling into the plush cushion surrounding the area.
“Not happening.” I bring up my finger, waving it to say no.
He ignores me, pushing me forward. My feet hardly move as he brings me closer to the area. “The line is far too long,” I protest.
“I can fix that.” With confidence, Danger starts weaving us through the crowd. “This girl was just left at the altar,” he tells the lineup, making me groan. He’s never been the sensitive kind.
“Not really,” I mumble, not that anyone can hear me with the music and all the chatter around. The congested area parts, allowing Danger to push me to the front. He always gets what he wants, case in point. He asks, and people jump to it.
“Danger, I can’t.” Turning, I try to get away. I must look like a scared little cat.
“Here’s the deal. You stay on for eight seconds, you move in with me. You fall off, you can move in with your parents.”
Here I thought everyone would be scared to talk about my doomed nuptials. Maybe that would have been better.
“Haven, you have nowhere to live. You can’t stay on Frankie’s couch forever. It’s time you start moving on and stop wallowing. It’s been over a month, your time for sulking is up.”
Ouch, harsh. I can’t fake my smile any longer. I go to leave, needing to get home before the waterworks start all over again.
“Aren’t you tired of crying?” he questions a little softer, but he still pushes me toward the mechanical bull until the massive foam padding is at my feet. “Don’t let that asshole define who you become,” he says behind me, into my ear. I hate that he has a point. Taking a deep breath, I prepare myself to take a chance.
“Eight seconds?” I confirm. Let’s be honest; no one wants to move back into their parents’ house after they’ve moved out.
With shaky legs, I crawl up and stand next to the fake bull. I look at it, deciding the best way to get on. With zero grace, I try jumping. I sprawl my body over it so one foot is over just enough to help pull myself into position. I hold the knobby thing on the seat, lifting one arm as I have seen Danger do so many times. The mechanical bull starts slow, going up and down as it does a small circle. Each second, the tempo gets faster, that red cushion under me coming closer to my face with each dip. How does Danger do this for a living? I’m scared, but more frightened of falling. It looks like it would hurt.
Up, down, and turn, my body is being jerked around. I have to fight for dear life to stay on until gravity wins out. I fall, hitting my head on the side of the mechanical bull. I don’t even feel the cushion under me.
Two
Danger
Haven’s bright red hair flies up and down each time the mechanical bull pushes her forward then back. I can see the determination in her eyes that she wants to stay on for the eight seconds. A part of me hopes it’s because she wants to be near me, and not because she has no other options.
Her knuckles are white, her tiny body being thrown all around. I’m unable to take my eyes off her. Her facial expression is the same from all those years ago...
Danger, 13 years old
Haven, 11 years old
“She’s a girl. There is no way she can get on the roof,” I say to my cousin, Crash, right in front of Haven like she’s not there.
The thing is, Haven is all I can see, even though I’m not looking at her. She’s wearing one of her cute yellow dresses with white flowers on it. Every Sunday, she wears a dress and looks so damn pretty.
I hear her gasp beside me before I feel her hand pushing against me. Removing my attention from Crash, I look down at her. Her legs are slipping as she tries to push me any sort of distance. It’s adorable she thinks she can move me. Lifting my hand, I place it on her forehead, and she works twice as hard to shuffle me an inch.
Her face is starting to turn red. “Stop or you’ll overexert yourself before the ice cream is given out.” It’s the only reason us kids stick around after church. That banana chocolate ice cream is the best, and this is the only place we can get it.
“Derek Danger.” She stomps her foot at me.
“I would correct you and say it’s Danger, but only women call me that.”
She scowls at me, and I love being the center of her attention. She can give it to me as much as I deal it. Most of the other girls just giggle when I tease them, but not her. I like seeing how she’ll react.
“Anything you can do, I can do better.” She crosses her arms and nods confidently.
“That roof is way too dangerous for a girl.” I laugh.
“It sure is.” My cousin backs me up. We both cross our arms over our chests, telling her this conversation is over.
“Why did you have to tell Haven about our secret spot? Now she’s going to run to the preacher and tattle,” my other cousin, Epic, complains while coming toward us.
I look from him to Haven. She’s no rat, but I don’t voice that. Her lips are pursed in a scowl that scrunches up most of her face. She’s cute as hell, even with her face all twisted. I look back to the roof and know without a doubt it’s much too high for her. She’s never going to make it. If Haven could climb up to that roof, I might be scared she could climb through my bedroom window and strangle me.
She huffs, turning away from us, making everyone laugh. The instant she leaves, I feel bad. Laughing could have been taking it a little too far. But in all honesty, a roof is no place for a lady, especially in a dress.
Us boys hang around till the ice cream is served before returning to our place in the yard. Normally, Haven and my sister join us back here. If our parents see us all together, they won’t call us in.
“Where are the girls?” I ask, lying back on my forearms and eating the delicious treat, pretending it’s a general observation, when really I can’t stop thinking about Haven and how determined she looked.
“You boys have gone and done it now.” Frankie stomps her way to us. Unlike Haven, I don’t think Frankie has worn a dress a day in her life.
“Did we take all the ice cream?” Crash teases her.
“Haven is on the roof because of you.” She points her finger right at me.
All our eyes look upward, where I see Haven standing awkwardly on the roof, hanging onto the cube-like walls that host the church bell.
I can’t see her face, but I know she’s scared. Haven’s whole body is rigid. If she really wanted to go up there, I would have taken her. But I have to admire how brave she’s being. She’s not crying or yelling for help. She lifts her hands off the wall and shuffles away, coming closer to the edge.