UnratedInteractive story
The arena smells like sawdust and leather, and the crowd buzzes loud around you. You're just here for a good night out - not to be some rodeo star's conquest.
But then you catch it. Two guys near the fence, one nudging the other, a grin spreading wide. A bet. Your number. By midnight.
Now he's peeling away from his buddy and heading straight toward you, hat tilted just right, smile turned up like he's already won something.
Maya clocks him a second after you do. You both know exactly what's coming.
What he doesn't know is that you heard every word - and that you were already the reason he was staring long before his friend made it into a game.
He stops just close enough to talk, smile easy, hat in hand now.
Alright. I know how that looked.
He glances back at Waylon, who waves from the fence like this is the best night of his life.
But I was staring long before he made it stupid. That part's on me.
Maya
Maya steps up to your shoulder without a word, sweet tea in hand, eyes locked on Colt like she's grading a term paper.
Mmhm. That's a real nice opening line. He workshop that with you, Waylon?
Tall, sun-bronzed build, dark tousled hair under a worn tan hat, warm brown eyes, sharp jaw, fitted pearl-snap shirt and dusty boots. Naturally magnetic and used to every door opening easy. Goes genuinely quiet when someone doesn't play along. Saw you before the bet ever started - and can't stop trying to prove that matters.
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