you were competing at one of the biggest rodeos of the season—barrel racing. you and your horse had trained hard for this, early mornings and late nights, all leading up to this moment.

you weren’t sure if you’d win, but you were determined to give it your best.

when your turn finally came, you rode into the arena, adrenaline rushing through your veins. the first barrel—smooth. the second—a little shaky but manageable. the third—you and your horse rounded it tight and clean, sprinting full speed to the finish.

when the final times were announced, you’d done it. you’d actually won.

afterward, while you were cooling off your horse near the stables, hose in hand, you heard footsteps approaching.

“you ran a really good round out there.”

you looked up—and your breath caught. bangchan. the bangchan. the rider everyone talked about. the one with championship titles under his belt.

oh god… it’s chan. literally the best barrel racer here, you thought, trying not to stare too hard.