Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 20648 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 103(@200wpm)___ 83(@250wpm)___ 69(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20648 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 103(@200wpm)___ 83(@250wpm)___ 69(@300wpm)
But now, knowing how tired he is, I can't help but regret it. I should have let him rest. This is a dangerous sport, and he definitely shouldn't be out there with the amount of sleep that he had.
I'm sitting on the edge of my seat on my hands, with a worried expression on my face. It's crazy. I've only known him maybe two weeks, if that. And my feelings are out of control for him. I know what they are, but I don't want to put words to it. I can't.
I see Lucas nod his head, and as soon as he does, the chute opens and the bull comes out, instantly trying to buck him off. Lucas holds on, though. And as soon as we get to five seconds, the crowd all stands up going wild, counting with the countdown clock. When the buzzer hits eight seconds, Lucas jumps off the bull easily and is over to safety, climbing up the railing. It's only then I'm able to breathe again.
I'm cheering like a maniac, so happy that he won, but even more happy that he's safe. He instantly finds me in the crowd and points over at me. I can already tell what he's saying. I know he's saying I'm his good luck charm. I wave like a lunatic at him, jumping up and down. He climbs over the railing and meets me, pulling me into his arms as I hug and kiss him. I know the camera is probably still on him, but I don’t even care.
The announcers start to talk and announce his score. He has an 84. I'm excited, but instantly Lucas' face falls. "What? What is it?" I ask him.
“I scored an 84. I needed 86 to win."
I hold on to his waist and look at the clock, and the score on the board. "I don't get it. You went the eight seconds. You got an 84. That's great."
He smiles at me. "Eighty-four is good, but that gets me second.” He shakes his head as if he’s trying to get the bad thoughts out. “It's fine, though."
I nod my head, unsure. I can tell he's upset. From what everyone was saying, he was a shoe-in to be first. So I know that he's disappointed. A part of me wonders if he blames me, that it's my fault that he got the 84. If he had gotten more rest last night, would he have won?
If I'm thinking it, I'm wondering if he's thinking the exact same thing. I pull back from him. “I'm proud of you for second. That's still awesome.”
He nods, but he doesn't say anything. People are still congratulating him, and he’s nodding and shaking hands as people go by. It’s almost like he doesn’t want to look at me. I let go of him and take a step back. “I need to get back to Whiskey Run. I have to work really early in the morning.” I'm looking over his shoulder, avoiding his eyes, because I don't want him to see I'm upset.
He reaches for my hand. "Per my contracts, I have to speak to the reporters. And I have to go to the winner’s circle to get my second place... I would skip it if I could."
I shrug my shoulders. "No, it's fine, really."
He tightens his hand on mine. "You can't hang out for a few minutes?"
I look at him and try to keep the smile on my face. At this point, it would probably be better if I just left. I’ve completely screwed this up. "No, I really need to go." I lean up on my tiptoes and press a kiss to his cheek. He pulls back, surprised, but he doesn't say anything because a person comes over telling them they need him at the winner’s circle.
He reaches down and pulls me in for a quick hug and then kisses me really briefly. "Bye. I'll call you later. Drive safe."
I nod and turn and walk away. I can feel his gaze on me, but I don’t turn around. I’m afraid if I do, I won’t be able to stop myself from running back to him.
As soon as I get out of eyesight, I all but jog out to my car. It's only once I'm safely inside that I let the tears start to fall. I'm such a fool. I knew this was a rebound situation, but I've let myself get out of hand. What is it with me and impossible relationships? I've fallen for the rebound guy.
I try to pull myself together to drive the hour back to Whiskey Run. When I get home, I unpack and shower, and then cry some more. I know I'm a mess. As I sit on the couch, my head thrown back, I'm thinking of this weekend. I can't get the thoughts of Lucas out of my head. This is so much more pain than I've ever felt before. I have so many regrets. One of them is not staying to watch him get his award for second place. Does he think that I was somehow upset that he lost? He didn't get first, like I cared one way or another. I would be proud of him no matter what.