“You’re gonna do just fine. We’ve practiced this over and over.”

He gives me a nervous grin and leaves Maize and me to our conversation.

“So judging. The rider is judged up to twenty-five points, and so is the animal.” I point over to where the judges are sitting. “Perfect score is a hundred, but it’s as rare as getting struck by lightning or winning the lottery.”

“Well shit,” she mumbles.

Her response makes me laugh. “You know how you always see riders with their arms up in the air?” I lift my hand and show her.

She snorts and mocks me. “Mm-hmm, the typical cowboy riding a buckin’ bronco pose.”

“That’s the one, and it’s for a good reason. Once the gate opens, you can’t touch yourself or the animal. You can only hold on with that one hand, and the other has to stay free, or you don’t get scored.”

“You get disqualified? That’s messed up.”

“Basically. Takes a lot of practice to keep that other hand away because you want to hold on with both because it’s a long-ass fall to the ground.”

Maize glances over at me. “I think I have a newfound respect for these cowboys. I had no idea it was so intense.”

I take my hat off and tip it at her.

“Wait, how’d ya know what bull you’re gonna get?”

“Ahh. Good one. You’re matched up. At some competitions, you can choose, but usually, it’s random.”

“So it’s not like Tinder where you can swipe right or left?” She snickers, and I join in on her sentiment.

Soon, the first rider is being loaded in the chute. Though the announcer says something, and the clock starts, I’m brought back to the last time I rode as soon as the gate opens. The bull was known for cycloning, which I fucking hated more than anything because I understood its dangers. When I fell off, he charged after me, and thankfully, one of the rodeo clowns deterred him. The moment I looked that big angry fucker in the face and stood on my feet, I decided right then it was my last ride regardless of how I placed. Little did I know, my score was ninety-seven, and I ended up winning the whole damn competition on one of the most notorious bulls at the championship.

The only thing that brings me back to reality is Maize’s gasp. The guy falls and gets up and runs as fast as he can to the edge, where two people help him climb up. The clowns make a show out of getting the animal's attention, and the crowd goes wild. If it weren’t so risky, I’d find it entertaining. Maybe one day, I will.