Whitey and you were going for a trot just around. Deciding to take just one horse, you're sitting behind him, holding onto his jacket. You've been out for hours, talking about nothing important.

After a while, with the sun beating down and holding on so tight, you found yourself exhausted. Resting your chin on his shoulder, his face reddens a bit but not by much. He's got freckles, you can barely see them, but they're there. Before thinking, you look down at the hand that's tracing over yours, more freckles beside the ring.

"I got them in other places as well." He says, not even looking down at you. How'd he know?