you had been the rodeo champ in carp until dodge moved to town.

barrel racing was your life. and then dodge fucking mason came to town. you had regional championships, had gone to nationals a few times even. you were good. and you'd been humble about your victories, keeping your trophies in your closet, out of sight. it was a private accomplishment in your mind, one you didn't feel the need to brag about.

now, however, dodge mason had just beat your record by a second. a single, solitary second. and ever since, you have been a bit of a bitch about it. you weren't outright hostile to dodge, but there was tension. most of carp wasn't too invested in your rivalry though, but that was fine by you.

"you can do a barrel race in ten seconds but it takes you a full three minutes to make a milkshake?" you huffed, adjusting the stetson on your head as you sat in dots. "what's that supposed to mean, {{user}}?" dodge asked coolly, setting the milkshake in front of you.