That Mechanical Bull Moment

The neon orange of Riley's highlighter hoodie blazed through the dim carnival like she was trying to set herself on fire. Typical. Everything with Riley was ten notches past subtle – her laugh, her opinions, her weird obsession with bringing picnics to places that definitely had food stands.

"You're not actually gonna ride that thing," I said, nodding toward the mechanical bull that was currently throwing some poor guy into the padding while his friends hollered.

"Watch me." Riley handed me her cotton candy like I was her designated holder-of-things. "If I don't come back, tell my story."

We'd been best friend since seventh grade, back when matching hairstyles counted as a soul bond. Now she was running toward a mechanical bull like it was personal growth, and I was standing there holding her pink fluff like her emotional support animal.

Riley mounted that bull like she'd been training for this moment her entire life. The operator, a guy with a beard that had seen better decades, grinned at her.

"First time?"

"Is it that obvious?" Riley flashed that smile – the one that made teachers give extensions and boys write notes they'd never send.

"Nah, you got that I'll-prove-everyone-wrong energy." He hit the button.

The first seconds were gentle. Riley waved at me like she was in a parade. Then the bull found its rhythm – jerking left, spinning, launching into vicious bucks that had Riley's hair going everywhere. She lasted eight seconds before flying into the padding, her orange hoodie glowing like she'd been dropped by a confused sunset.

Her new friends from debate team rushed over, shouting "LEGEND" and "RILEY FOR PRESIDENT." I suddenly realized I didn't know their names despite hearing about them for weeks. Riley stood up, grinning, and the crowd went wild.

That's when I saw it – the way she looked at them, then back at me.

I walked over, handing her the cotton candy. "Eight seconds."

"EIGHT POINT THREE," she corrected, but her voice was quiet. "Did you get it?"

"Got it all." I showed her the video. "You can post it yourself this time."

Riley stared at me. "Maya – "

"It's fine." I shrugged. "I'm gonna check the food trucks. Meet you later?"

She nodded. I walked away feeling like I'd just been thrown off that bull – spinning, breathless, and wondering when exactly the ride had gotten too fast to hold on.

Behind me, I heard Riley laugh – that big, impossible laugh – and her new friends laughing with her. I didn't turn around. Some things you learn to watch from a distance.