I decided to skip the guitar, because I didn’t want to get distracted by working out the notes on the fly. To get it out of the way, I rotated it on its strap so it hung across my back. A hush fell over the crowd as I stepped back up to the microphone and grasped it with both hands.
I took a breath and began to sing ana cappellaversion of Cyndi Lauper’s “True Colors” while keeping my focus on Kit. The lyrics let me tell him how special and beautiful he was. They were also a way of telling him I loved him, without having toworry that it was too much, or too soon, and without putting pressure on him to respond in some way.
The song stirred up a lot of emotions in Kit. They were written all over his face. As soon as I was done, I jumped off the front of the stage, went straight to him, and kissed him. It occurred to me after the fact that this could have gone one of two ways, since this wasn’t a gay bar. But the applause and cheers around us got louder and more enthusiastic as we kissed.
As soon as we broke apart, he looked around shyly. A blush rose in his cheeks when he realized we were the center of attention. I grabbed his hand, and we hurried to the exit. The applause followed us all the way out the door.
Once we were outside, both of us burst out laughing. It was probably from sheer relief. We’d both done what we’d set out to do tonight—we’d gotten up on a stage and performed our hearts out, and it had gone as well as it possibly could.
He grabbed me in a hug and exclaimed, “That was incredible! I was totally blown away.”
Hal and Ryder caught up to us a moment later. “You can sing your ass off, man,” Ryder said, as he slapped my back.
“You really can,” Hal agreed. “I felt like I was at a mega rock star’s concert. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’ve been performing for years.
“You know what, though? I just realized I totally forgot to address the audience,” I said. “The emcee introduced me so I left it at that, but I should have said something, too. At the very least, I should have told them the name of the song.”
Ryder shrugged. “I didn’t even notice.”
“Me, neither.” Hal tapped his phone a few times and stuck it in the pocket of his black cardigan. “By the way, I recorded all of that, and I just sent the video to Kit.”
I thanked him for doing that, and Kit told me, “I want to use it to start an Instagram page for you, so everyone can see what an incredible singer you are. Is that okay?”
I almost told him not to bother, but then again, why not? It’d be kind of cool to have that part of me live on. I kissed his forehead and told him that’d be great, which made him happy. Then I asked our companions, “What’s next?”
Ryder led the way to something I’d never experienced before, a gay country-western bar. The dance floor was filled with people in cowboy hats, enthusiastically line dancing. There was also a section for axe throwing, which seemed like a terrible thing to combine with alcohol, and last but not least, a mechanical bull.
“This is it,” I said, as I stepped up and bought a ticket. “I finally get to cross off one of the most ridiculous things on my bucket list.”
The “bull” was surrounded by a padded ring. But when the guy in front of me was unceremoniously thrown off after about three seconds, it didn’t sound like a particularly soft landing. The fact that he was clutching his back when he shuffled away didn’t bode well, either.
Still though, I’d said I was going to do this, and once something went on my bucket list, that meant I was committed to it. I glanced at the employee who’d sold me the ticket and said, “Eight seconds, right? That’s the goal?”
“That’s the goal on a real bull,” he explained. “Since this starts at an easy pace, a good score on a mechanical bull is fifteen seconds and up. But just have fun with it, and don’t worry too much about the time.”
“Good advice.”
I climbed onto the thing and grasped the strap in front of me with both hands, but the moment it started moving, I automatically flung one of my arms out to provide a bit ofcounterbalance. How was this an easy pace? As it jerked and swooped around in a circle, I tried to hold on for dear life.
Before I knew it, the thing threw me off, and I landed on my ass. I stretched out on my back and stared up at the ceiling for a few moments as I caught my breath. Kit appeared, leaning over me as he asked, “Are you alright?”
“Mostly. Please tell me that was longer than two seconds.”
He pointed at the display panel on the wall as I sat up. “Six point three-six seconds. That’s pretty good.”
“Meh.”
“Do you want to go again?”
“Nope. I’m going to call that done.” I started to leave the ring while taking a mental assessment of my new collection of aches and pains. But then I turned back to Kit, who was climbing onto the mechanical bull, and asked him, “What are you doing?”
“I wanted to give it a try, so I bought a ticket.”
He yelped at the initial jolt. That caught the attention of a group of men standing nearby, and they gathered around. When Hal yelled, “You’ve got this, Kit,” they all picked up on it, calling him by name as they cheered him on.
Kit, meanwhile, was an absolute marvel. He started laughing as the fake bull bucked and jolted, his lean body shifting instinctively in response to the motions. It wasn’t until the thing swung in a hard circle that it finally threw him.
He landed on the padding and jumped up immediately as Ryder yelled, “Seventeen seconds! That’s phenomenal for a first time!”
