Mechanical Bull in Suburbia

The sign said MECHANICAL **BULL** RIDING – $10 and the camera guy would email you the footage. Probably to post on TikTok later and thoroughly humiliate yourself.

Marcus stood there in his too-tight jeans from freshman year, sweating through his favorite band tee. Why had he let Jasmine drag him to this party? The girl he'd been crushing on since October was currently five feet away, laughing at something Chad said, while Marcus calculated the social risk-reward ratio of attempting the ride.

"You gonna do it or just stand there looking like you're about to puke?" Jasmine appeared beside him, her hand brushing against his. His **palm** went instantly sweaty, which was exactly the kind of biological betrayal that made high school literally unbearable.

"I'm strategically evaluating," he said, trying to sound casual. "Physics. Momentum. You know."

"You're overthinking it." She grinned. "I'll go first if you promise to ride after."

He agreed before his brain could process what he was consenting to.

Jasmine lasted twelve seconds, looking somehow elegant while being violently bucked around like a human ragdoll. Chad whistled. Marcus's stomach did that thing where it felt like he was free-falling through floorboards.

Then it was his turn.

The operator cinched the strap tight. The machine hummed beneath him like a living thing. Marcus closed his eyes, remembering his coach's voice before every **swimming** meet: *Trust your training. Feel the rhythm. Don't fight the current – work with it.*

He opened his eyes. The bull jerked forward.

Marcus didn't fight it. He found the rhythm, leaning into each buck, letting his body flow with the motion instead of resisting. The party noise faded to a dull roar. He was just motion, momentum, pure physics working through him.

He rode for forty-seven seconds.

When he finally flew off, tumbling onto the inflatable mat, the small crowd actually cheered. Jasmine grabbed his hand to pull him up – not an accidental brush this time, but intentional, firm contact.

"Okay," she said, eyes bright, "that was actually impressive."

Marcus lay there on the mat, heart pounding, grinning up at the ceiling lights. "Strategic evaluation," he managed. "It paid off."

She laughed, and he thought, yeah. Maybe some things weren't as terrifying as he'd built them up to be. Maybe he could stop overthinking everything and just – ride.

"You hungry?" she asked. "They have pizza."

He scrambled up, knees skinned, ego intact. "Starving."

And for the first time all night, Marcus wasn't worrying about what came next. He was just glad to be along for the ride.