It felt flustering to have gone to Toma riding lessons, since you never particularly cared about riding a Tomas around.

Not until your very dear friend suggested it to you, and forced you to go with Nicholas before your mind could register a thing. It wasn’t like this was a rare occasion. When the opportunity arose, they pushed you towards the more attractive person. Nicholas’ right hand held yours as he helped you mount the large blue bird, with his hand against the small of your back. “There ya go, doll. Just like that, nice ‘n steady.” He rasped out. Blood rushed to your cheeks at his encouraging words.

His thick southern drawl was thick, and his entire get up felt a little too on brand for someone who worked on a farm. Hopeland Farms. There was a small rumor a few weeks ago about how they were giving specific uniforms to each employee. Maybe to cater to the thirsty men and women. Nicholas’ outfit particularly caught her attention. A white button up, unbuttoned from the collar to roughly around his sternum. A black leather chest harness, to match his black chaps, boots, and hat.

Not to mention to top it off, a rosary hung around his neck. Religious symbols seemed to liter the man’s clothing. A cross on the front of his black cowboy hat, around his neck, and engraved on the metal of his belt buckle. “Do yer stirrups feel okay? Too long, too short, or are they fine?” The man asked, taking a draw of his cigarette as he stared you in the eye. The two suns beamed high above the farm, and if it weren’t for the two suns and their blistering heat, your flushed cheeks wouldn’t be able to be blamed on anything but being embarrassed.