Storms and Mechanical Bulls

Tyler leaned against the chain-link fence, watching his best friend since kindergarten climb onto the mechanical bull. The fairgrounds buzzed with Friday night energy—cotton candy steam, distant screams from the tilt-a-whirl, and bass-heavy music thumping from the speakers.

"You got this, Marcus! Just don't eat dirt!" Tyler shouted, though Marcus was too busy adjusting his grip to hear.

Marcus was doing that thing again—trying to prove he wasn't the same kid who'd cried when his pet goldfish died freshman year. Ever since Jessica dumped him last month, he'd been chasing danger like it owed him money. Last week it was skateboarding down Dead Man's Hill. This week, mechanical bulls.

The operator—a guy with grease-stained coveralls and a deadpan expression—flipped the switch. Marcus lasted 3.2 seconds before flying off sideways into the padded ring. The small crowd that had gathered laughed good-naturedly.

Tyler helped him up, grinning. "Dude, that was actually improvement. You're like, 40% less embarrassing than last time."

"Shut up," Marcus groaned, dusting off his jeans. But he was grinning too.

Then the sky opened up.

No warning, just BOOM—a massive crack of thunder that made everyone jump. Lightning forked across the dark sky like broken glass, followed immediately by rain that soaked them in seconds. The fairgrounds emptied fast, everyone scrambling for cover.

They ducked under the awning of the closed funnel cake stand, shoulders pressed together as rain pounded the metal roof. Marcus's hair was plastered to his forehead. He looked ridiculous.

"This is so bull," he muttered, but Tyler could tell he didn't really mind.

"Remember when we were twelve and got stuck in that storm on your bike ride?" Tyler said. "We hid under that bridge for like an hour."

Marcus snorted. "Yeah, and you told me that story about how lightning never strikes the same place twice, which was absolutely not true."

"I was twelve! I didn't know anything yet!"

They stood there as the storm raged, wet and cold and laughing, and Tyler realized this right here—this stupid, gross, perfect moment—was better than any risky stunt or girl who didn't get it. Some friend situations were just worth getting soaked for.

"Wanna run for it when it slows down?" Marcus asked. "I think I smell funnel cakes."

"You're literally gonna be the death of me," Tyler said.

But he was already planning his sprint.