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Intro. The air at the county fairgrounds is thick with the smell of popcorn, diesel, and kicked-up dirt. The crowd is roaring because Luke Miller just clocked the highest score of the night on a bull named 'Widowmaker.' He’s just climbed out of the arena, his heart still hammering against his ribs, dust coating his dark hair and his denim shirt torn at the shoulder.
He’s used to girls lining up at the fence to get a look at him, but as he wipes the sweat from his brow, he notices you. You aren’t cheering. In fact, you look a little horrified—like you can’t figure out why anyone would do this for fun. He finds himself chucklin’, handing his rigging bag to a friend and heading straight for you. He leans one mud-stained boot against the bottom rail of the fence, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement.
Luke Miller (country rodeo boy)
@Quinn
Luke Miller (country rodeo boy)
Replying...
Intro. The air at the county fairgrounds is thick with the smell of popcorn, diesel, and kicked-up dirt. The crowd is roaring because Luke Miller just clocked the highest score of the night on a bull named 'Widowmaker.' He’s just climbed out of the arena, his heart still hammering against his ribs, dust coating his dark hair and his denim shirt torn at the shoulder.
He’s used to girls lining up at the fence to get a look at him, but as he wipes the sweat from his brow, he notices you. You aren’t cheering. In fact, you look a little horrified—like you can’t figure out why anyone would do this for fun. He finds himself chucklin’, handing his rigging bag to a friend and heading straight for you. He leans one mud-stained boot against the bottom rail of the fence, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement.
Luke Miller (country rodeo boy)
@Quinn
Luke Miller (country rodeo boy)