Page 57 of Hung Up
“Hayes, you’re up.” I turn to see one of the other riders sitting atop the chute, waving me over.
I don’t say anything to the boys as I turn and head over, trying my damndest to calm my breathing. My hands shake as I climb the rails, swinging my leg over to stare down at the beast I’m set to ride tonight. I’ve never been nervous to ride, at least not like this. I struggle to get my hand into my glove, my sweaty palm making the material difficult to slide on. But once I do, I cautiously drop down onto Goliath’s back. He’s slamming his sides into the bars, my legs getting caught with the movement. I slip my hand into the rope and begin to tighten it when I risk a glance upward. My eyes scan the crowd and the platform, looking in Faith’s usual spots in hopes that it was some cruel joke—that she’d be here to support me like she has been since that second week. But much to my disappointment, I don’t spot a head of curly blonde hair.
I sigh and shake my head, and all too quickly, I realize my mistake.
Because the man arming the door thought I was giving him the go-ahead, and Goliath is tearing out of the chute before my hand is properly secure.
All it takes is one lurch and a twist of his body to have me sliding sideways, my thighs tightening in an attempt to stay on. But then he’s bucking, and when his back legs hit the ground, he twists again, and this time I lean the wrong way.
I land in the dirt with a painful thud, the wind getting knocked out of me. Those precious seconds cost me, because the last thing I see is Goliath’s hooves coming toward me quicker than I can roll away.
And the last thought that goes through my mind before my vision goes dark is,well, I guess it’s a good thing Faith wasn’t here.
21FAITH
ALBUQUERQUE
what the hell were you thinking?
“I can’t believeyou’re skipping tonight,” Rylie complains as she sprawls out on the bed in my hotel room. “All because your dad called.”
“Rylie—”
“I mean, your dad annoys you all the time, what’s new?” She tilts her head back, staring up at the ceiling. “For fucks sake, Faith. All he does is put his nose where it shouldn’t be.”
“Ry—”
“I’ll give him a piece of my mind for you, that’s what I’ll do.” Rolling over so she’s on her stomach, she reaches for her cell phone she had put on the nightstand upon her arrival. “If he thinks he’s going to guilt you about dumping that dirtbag, then he needs?—”
“Jesse and I are sleeping together.”
She freezes for a moment before slowly turning her head toward me, almost like a creepy doll in a horror movie. “What did you just say?”
“Jesse and I are sleeping together,” I repeat, feeling like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders by finally saying it out loud. Not being able to talk to anyone about it—about the feelings he has been emoting in me—has been a burden I didn’t realize I’d have to carry.
Rylie shoots up, crawling across the bed to sit directly in front of me as I lean against the dresser. Her eyes are wide, eyebrows practically in her hairline. Her mouth opens and closes like a fish gasping for air, no words coming out as she tilts her head, studying me.
“You and Jesse,” she finally says, speaking slowly as if it’d be any less true if she spoke any less clearly.
“Me and Jesse.” I nod.
“You’re sleeping together.”
“Yes, we’re sleeping together.”
“You and Jesse are sleeping together.”
I sigh as I push away from the dresser and head over to the couch in the corner. “You process this however you need to process this. Take your time.”
Rylie looks ready to blow up on me. Like she wants to rip me a new one, for keeping this a secret or for doing it in the first place, I’m not sure. So I’m surprised when the first words out of her mouth are, “Did you just quoteNew Girl?”
“Unintentionally,” I retort, sinking into the cushions and tucking my legs underneath me. “We can definitely talk about that some more, though. If you want.”
She finally scrambles off the bed, practically tripping over her own feet as she plops down next to me with an eager expression. “Yes, because that’s what I want to talk about.” She rolls her eyes. “Tell me everything.”
“Like?”
“When did it start? Who initiated it? How is he in bed? Details, Faith. Details.”
