The truck turned down the bumpy dirt lane.
“Hold onto your hat, Jack,” Chase said, with a flash of white teeth. “It’s always looked too big for you.”
Jack tried to ignore the way his stomach fizzed when Chase smiled, and scowled.
“I’ll have you know I had it professionally fitted.”
“Uh huh… was the sales guy drunk?”
“Oh, shut up.”
Jack turned his head to stare out of the window at the rolling green fields, raising a hand unconsciously to make sure his hat hadn’t fallen off.
He and Chase were on their way to the State Rodeo, to test their mettle against some of the biggest, meanest and feistiest bulls in America. Jack hated rodeo riding; he never lasted very long and he always woke up the next day with the biggest bruises mankind has ever seen. At least, they felt that way. The only reason he was doing this was because Chase had asked him to, though he would never admit that out loud.
“What are you thinking?” Chase asked, after a few minutes of silence.
About you. Always about you.
“Nothing much. Just wondering how long we’ll last.”
Even though he didn’t look at him, Jack knew that Chase was grinning. His stomach twisted at the thought and he could feel his cheeks beginning to burn.
It was going to be a hell of a long ride.
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