8 Seconds

Chapter 23 - Shane

"Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the Professional Bull Riding Championship!" Greg Thomas, the announcer called out. "Don't we have a show packed up for y'all. So grab a friend, grab a beer and let's have a good time tonight!"

The crowd cheered obnoxiously, whistles and hoots coming from all directions across the arena. Intakigna breath, my eyes scanned everyone here. Friends of friends, family, girls looking for a good time- and not just to watch us ride.

They want a ride themselves. My eyes scanned the crowd, looking for the sight of that deep brown hair tucked away under my black hat. And sure enough, after an agonizing five seconds I saw her. She was at the gate near every other rider. They gave her glances, as they should. She was mine, the hat on her head and my come between her legs was the proof of so.

It made my lips curl into a smirk remembering the thought. Clearing my throat I pushed on, winding my way through the riders, casting glances and side eyes at one another.

Eight seconds. That's all I needed to win this; eight seconds.

More if I could hang on this time and not have a goddamn light shine in my eyes.

My hangs wrung the leather gloves I was holding. The anger and determination rising again. My skin felt hot, and my hands started shaking from how hard I was holding my gloves. Adrenaline washed over me, making every step

Bull riding was my life. Ever since I could watch it on the TV when I was a kid, I was obsessed with it. Everything that had to do with riding or farming. I was destined to be the best, regardless of who I had to step on to get my way there. For countless years I put my blood, sweat and tears into this, it would make someone sick.

Not me. I was destined to do this. I was made for this. I wanted this more than I wanted anything else. This was mine to earn. This was my prime.

Round after round, I watched boys younger and some older than I, get bucked or come just close to the eight seconds, but fail. Young man named Michael Young, about nineteen- out of here within three seconds. I gotta give it to the kid, though. According to Austin, there was a chance this was the next super star rider - if everything went according to plan tonight.

Shockingly, he somehow made it this far before he was bucked off Savage. Only 3.5 seconds, and Johnathan was tossed like a ceasar salad in no time.

"Up next, we all know him, and we all love him to death, but I think he should hear that from y'all. Everyone on your feet. And please help me welcome back to the ring, Shane Marshall!"

Once again the croup erupted with hoots and hollers so loud, I bet it was heard from 25 miles away. As instructed, everyone was on their feet, hands around mouths to whistle or holler louder. Hands clapped together, a standing ovation. My eyes scanned the ground, my chest heavy with emotion and solitude. My eyes went over damn near everyone's face in the arena, until my eyes landed on Jack Wrangler.

The only one who wasn't clapping, other than his wife next to him, who has a wide smile on her face. Hat tipped low, face red with fury. That was all it took to fuel my fire.

"You are going down." I mouthed to him once I caught sight of his eye. Shrugging, his finger pointed to the scoreboard, where he --of course-- was in first place with the most points.

That was fine. I was taking everything from him today. Just like he did me.

"Are you ready, kid?" James asked, slapping a hand on the back of my neck, giving it a squeeze. "Now is your chance to show everyone what the fuck they are here to see."

"I'm not a kid, James. We're the same damn age, just two years apart." I hissed at him, shoving his shoulder. Grinning, James shoved me back.

"Still a kid to me, no matter the gap."