Authors: Mandy Hubbard
He reaches up, sliding his fingers into my hair, playing with it in a way that feels good, intimate. I close my eyes, and we stand there like that for so long I’m convinced the rodeo could be over, that the entire holiday has come and gone. But then he sighs and pulls away, smiling softly. “Thanks.”
“What are girlfriends for?” I say, surprised at the way the words roll off my tongue.
Surprised at the truth in them.
Because that’s who I want to be.
His girlfriend.
I’m sitting atop Zoey in the chute as I listen to the announcer welcoming the crowd. There must be two thousand people filling the stands, another handful of people walking up and down the aisles, selling popcorn and cotton candy. The whole place has a sort of carnival feel to it, people shouting, bulls snorting, the loudspeaker blaring.
The guy on the microphone is welcoming everyone to the greatest show on earth, which I always thought was a thing reserved for circuses. Zoey’s ears swivel back and forth as she listens, but she’s at ease in the hustle and bustle, alert but happy. She’s the sort of horse that will never really retire, just work and work and work until the day she dies.
Kinda like the cowboys around here.
“You ready for this?” Bailey asks. She’s standing in front of me, holding the gate.
I nod, one hand on the reins and the other holding on to a flagpole. A barely discernible breeze lifts the edges of the flag.
“Yep. It’s my favorite part of the day.”
“So, why are you so tense?”
“Long story. I’ll tell you later,” I say, just as the opening chords of the national anthem play, blasting through the speakers mounted on telephone poles high above the crowds. I have to clear Landon from my head and think of the task at hand. “Let’s do this.”
I pick up my reins, tighten my grip on the flagpole, and nod at Bailey. She swings the gate open, and I nudge my horse into motion. I pick up an easy lope as I exit the chute.
Soon, I’m paralleling the stands, a thousand people right next to me as I pick up speed. I tighten my grip on the flagpole as the wind pulls at the red, white, and blue, and I feel the flag whipping harder against the air. Two-thirds of the way down the ring, I turn Zoey to the right.
“Whoa,” I say under my breath as I near the center of the ring, leaning back and into my saddle. Zoey executes a perfect sliding stop. I turn her so that we face the announcement booth just as the anthem hits its high notes, and the crowd reaches a dull roar.
When the song ends, I spin my horse back the way we came, picking up an easy lope toward the railing. Once there, we head to the chutes at the far end of the arena.
When I exit the chutes and I’m back into the dusty empty driveway, Bailey shrieks. “You were awesome!”
I grin back, her enthusiasm infectious. “Thanks.”
“Seriously, that sliding stop was so awesome. No matter
where we are next year, we have to come back just for the rodeo, okay?”
No matter where we are
. Bailey’s going to UW in the fall, and I’m going to WSU. We’ll be six or seven hours apart. The girl who inspires me every day will no longer be my roommate. But only during the year. Not in the summer. I don’t care what it takes, we’ll be back next year. “Deal.”
“Okay, well, I guess I better go work the booth now. My epic romance with Adam is commencing in ten minutes, you know. I’ll try to poke my head out when you do your runs, okay? Don’t fall off or anything,” she says, disappearing into the crowd.
I start to give her a smart-mouthed reply, but a voice stops me. “Hey. You looked great,” he says.
I turn to see Landon riding up on Storm, the horse fully equipped for the day—a rope dangles from the horn of the saddle, looped over and over again, and Storm’s legs are in red, white, and blue pro boots to protect his bones and tendons. The wraps perfectly match the ridiculously colored spots all over his horse.
“And you look like Uncle Sam threw up all over you,” I say before I can stop myself. I’m not sure if I’m allowed to joke right now.
He snorts. “You’re just jealous.”
“You know it,” I say, relieved at his reaction. I take my eyes off the horse and allow them to drift over Landon, searching for some hint of his earlier distress. He’s got on those same battered, beaten Justin cowboy boots, the ones he was wearing the day he saluted my hair, before he ever hit his head. He’s also got
on a familiar pair of jeans, and they’re so well worn I want to reach out and touch them. The shirt though, it’s new, just like mine. Bright red, with a blue pocket on the front, and a white star stitched in. And in the middle of all that is his gleaming buckle. My eyes linger on it for a minute before meeting his eyes, but he’s not the shattered boy of earlier today. Instead his expression is passive, at ease.
“You know what’s weird?” He rides up closer, our horses facing opposite directions, our knees bumping against each other. Storm is taller than Zoey, so Landon’s looking right down at me, as if from up there, he owns the world.
“What?”
“I swear I’ve dreamed about this before or something. I got total déjà vu watching you do the flag ceremony.”
“Weird,” I say, my heart skipping a beat. “It’s probably just because you’ve been to so many rodeos.”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
I swallow. “So, uh, still no helmet, I see,” I say, tapping on the hard plastic surface of my own headwear. It makes a funky
bonk
noise, as if to prove how hard it is.
“Nah,” he says, waving his hand. “I mean, I won’t bull ride without one, but—”
“You are
not
bull riding,” I say, my voice rising an octave.
“Aw,” he says. His thick lips curl in an irresistible fashion, and I have the most overwhelming urge to kiss him. “Is someone worried about me?”
“If you bull ride—with or without a helmet—you’re gonna end up as a french fry. A human french fry.”
“The Hills Have Eyes”
he says. “I love that movie. And I’m
not actually bull riding,” he adds, grinning. He reaches out and pokes my arm. “But thanks for the sentiment.” His expression is taunting.
“Any time.” I reach out and shove his shoulder, retaliation for poking me. But instead of getting me back, he searches the crowd.
“Have you seen my mom around at all?”
My stomach drops. “Your mom?” I squeak.
“Yeah. She’s in Leavenworth for the weekend and she was going to swing by and say hello. She usually wears this ridiculous flag shirt and a headband with stars that bounce around on the end of springs. Every Fourth of July, without fail. Seen anyone like that?”
No. No, no, no
. “Uh, I don’t think so.”
“Hmm. I’ll go find her. I thought I could introduce you guys.”
Crap. He can’t introduce us because I’ve met her before. Last summer, when Landon introduced me as his girlfriend. I forgot that she does a girls-only vacation in Leavenworth every Fourth of July, and it’s just over an hour to our west, making it convenient for a drop-in.
And if he introduces me as his girlfriend again, like I’ve never met her, he’s going to know something is off. Everything is going to come crashing down. I’m not even certain how I want the rest of this summer to go; I only know that this game, this relationship, can’t end so soon.
I swallow down my panic. “Anyway,” I say, turning Zoey away from him, “barrels are up in a bit so I’m going to head to the other arena and go warm up. See you later?”
He nods, his eyes hidden in the shadows thrown by his cowboy hat. I can’t help but fear that he’ll see my panic, my desperation to get away from him.
I push Zoey into a jog, crossing the lot and heading in the direction of the warm-up ring. Once out of view, I’ll find Bailey and we’ll figure out how to handle Landon’s mom.
Spotted her. Next to the concession stand.
Relief barrels through me as I read Bailey’s text message. I slide Zoey’s stall door shut and text back, You’re a lifesaver.
I’ve been searching the crowd for two hours—in between my events—and haven’t seen her yet. My only solace is the fact that Landon hasn’t either, but it’s all going to end if I don’t get my butt over there before he gets into some deep conversation with her. There are a hundred things she cannot possibly discuss with him—college, his sister’s upcoming
seventeenth
birthday, the fact that I’m the same girl he dated last year. … Even the tiniest thing could tip him off, lead to questions I don’t want to answer.
With Zoey quietly munching on an early dinner, I hustle down the aisle and back out into the sun, scurrying toward the concession stand. I’ve decided to stay hidden, at least at first. I’ll try to eavesdrop on their convo and see how things go. It’s
always possible they’ll talk about something totally harmless. Landon might not even mention me by name. And if he does, there’s always the chance his mom doesn’t recall meeting me last year, or that she forgot my name.
If I stay out of view, she might not even figure it out.
My phone chirps again.
Hurry. Landon found her.
I pick up a jog, dodging a kid with a red-white-and-blue balloon bouquet and ducking under some tree limbs, my breath growing labored in the hot afternoon sun. Twenty feet shy of the concession stand, I spot her. She’s in the same ridiculous shirt and headband as last year. Landon’s hugging her, and she’s doing that motherly rubbing-his-back-midhug thing. For a second I feel a pang of longing for my own mom. She would totally hug me and buy me lunch and ask if I was too hot and if I’ve been drinking enough water, if she were here right now.
I shake away the thoughts.
Focus
. I slow, heading to the shady side of the concession stand, and then creep up slowly so they won’t see me.
“… that was a heckuva run,” his mom is saying.
“Yeah. It’s my personal best,” Landon replies, beaming. “Better than the one I did in Monroe last spring.”
I cringe, hoping his mom doesn’t keep close tabs on his steer-wrestling times. He’s had way better runs than the one he did today, he just doesn’t remember them. I shouldn’t know that, but I do, because anytime someone at school talked about Landon, my ears would perk up.
The curse of an ex-girlfriend is having radar like that. I’ve spent an excruciating year keeping tabs on him.
“So where’s this girlfriend you mentioned?” his mom asks. “I’m looking forward to meeting her.”
I purse my eyes shut, willing this conversation to drop. But I am a teeny bit intrigued about what he may have told her about me.
“She’s around here somewhere. You’ll really like her,” Landon says. “I think she’s just putting her horse away. We could walk to the stables. It’s a little cooler in the shade.”
“That sounds good. I’ve gotta head out soon, anyway. I’m touring a winery with the girls this afternoon.”
Thank God for wineries
. If I can just stay hidden, then crisis averted. I can’t believe I didn’t think about his mom by now, but this could’ve happened before. On the phone. I’m lucky he’s way more into texting and that the reception in the cabins is so spotty.
I slink along the concession stand as they turn back the way I just came.
“I know Mackenzie wants to meet you,” Landon says.
His mom stops abruptly, narrowing her eyes as she looks at her son. My heart skips a beat.
Oh, no
…
“Mackenzie? But isn’t that the same—”
“Hi!” I practically shout, leaping away from the shadows around the stand.
I have no idea what else I can possibly say, but as I step closer to them, I’m confident it has to be
something
. “It’s so nice to, uh …”
Meet you?
I can’t say that. If she remembers my name, then she knows I’ve met her before. “Uh, so nice to know that you, uh, made it!”
Ugh.
When I basically leap into her arms, she halfheartedly hugs me back. My cheeks burn, but I’m not sure what else to do. “I just heard you say that you’ve gotta take off, but please let me and Landon walk you to your car,” I say, gesturing toward the parking lot, my hands flying all over the place.
Chill. Don’t blow it
.
His mom glances between us, but when I step toward where I hope to find her car—quickly—she and Landon start to follow, so I keep going. My heart hammers harder in my chest. I can only act like an idiot for so long before Landon’s going to wonder what is wrong with me.
“Landon!” a voice calls out. I whirl around, and the relief is strong and swift. It’s Bailey, rushing toward us. “I’m so sorry,” she says, her eyes wide, “but I
really
need your help with something. Do you have a minute?”
He hesitates. I know he doesn’t want to bail on her so soon after their reunion, so I jump in. “Oh, that’s totally fine. I can walk your mom out,” I say.
When she hesitates, I take it a step further, grabbing her hand and putting it on my elbow, like this is 1852 and she needs a formal escort.
“We
really, really
need your help,” Bailey adds.
There’s a heartbeat of silence and I hold my breath, feeling totally awkward with his mom holding on to my arm.
“Go ahead, dear,” she says, pulling away from me. “We’ll catch up some other time.”
Thank God
. I try not to let my shoulders sag in relief.
“Um, okay. Sorry we didn’t get to hang out,” he says, hugging his mom.
“It’s fine, Landon. Last year you were pretty busy too. I really just came to see your events.”
“Okay then!” I burst out, before Landon can respond to her
last year
remark. I pray that somehow he dismisses the comment. “Shall we?”
Bailey grabs Landon by the hand and drags him away, and as he leaves earshot, I find myself breathing again. His mom follows me across the big open driveway, toward a field that has been set up as a parking lot for the out-of-towners.
“Mackenzie,” his mother says, as we step into the sparse grass.
“Yes?” I say, leading the way toward her red SUV.
“Why does Landon think I’ve never met you?” she asks, just as we arrive at her car.