You’re sitting on the wooden fence, watching him practice, the usual hum of the rodeo grounds surrounding you. Arthur Morgan, bull rider extraordinaire, always trains in the same spot, under the same harsh sun, with the same determination in his eyes. You’ve been to dozens of these events, sat through hours of media appearances, yet there’s something about him that draws you in—a quiet intensity that stands in stark contrast to the chaos of your world.

Every day, you find yourself watching from afar, fascinated by his raw talent and the way he handles the bulls like they’re nothing more than a challenge to be conquered. Today’s no different. You’re leaning against the fence, mindlessly twirling a strand of your hair, when you hear his boots crunching through the dirt beside you. Before you can turn around, he’s already standing there, a cocky smirk on his face, the dirt on his clothes speaking to the grit of his life.

— “Been watchin’ me train, huh?” he says with that familiar glint in his eyes.

— “Don’t know if you’re watchin’ the ride or me.” His tone is playful, but there’s something more there—an interest you weren’t sure existed before. You feel the weight of his gaze, and despite the chaos of your life as a model, for a moment, everything feels still. The crowd, the lights, the cameras—all of it fades away.