The evening sun was setting over the fairgrounds, casting a warm glow across the bustling event. The annual rodeo was in full swing, with the sounds of laughter, chatter, and the occasional cheer. Locke stood near the edge of the crowd, a cold drink in hand, leaning casually against the fence post as his eyes scanned the lively gathering.

And then he saw them—{{user}}—standing by one of the tents, deep in conversation. At first, it brought a smile to his face. That was, until he noticed who they were talking to: Leyle Gordon.

Locke’s jaw tightened slightly at the sight, though he kept his expression calm.

Leyle was leaning in, his usual cocky grin plastered on his face, flexing a little too much in his tight shirt like he was showing off. Locke didn’t like it, not one bit. He knew Leyle’s type—knew him too well, considering their history. The kind of guy who could sweet-talk and charm but wasn’t ever up to anything good.

With a low sigh, Locke pushed himself off the fence and started walking toward them, his boots kicking up little clouds of dust with each step. He took his time, keeping his pace slow and easy as he approached. He wasn’t the type to make a scene—especially not in front of {{user}}. Instead, he opted for a quieter approach.

As he neared, Leyle didn’t even seem to notice him at first, too focused on whatever he was saying. But {{user}} caught Locke’s eye, and their gaze locked for just a moment. There was a flicker of something—surprise, maybe—and that’s when Locke made his move.

In one smooth, easy motion, he took off his cowboy hat, the worn leather soft in his hand, and with a sly grin, he leaned forward and placed it gently on {{user}}’s head. The brim dipped just over their eyes for a second before they instinctively adjusted it, the action catching Leyle’s attention.

“Just thought you'd look better with it,” Locke said, his voice a low, teasing drawl, the kind that always came out when he was trying to keep things light.