Already Gone (Harry Styles / One Direction)

Friends and Bimbos*

"For God sakes! "You know, they could install cell towers out here," I joke with my brother, who's glued to his phone. He continues to tap his phone screen and groan in frustration.

"You realize that's pointless, right? We've been here all our lives, and you do this ritual every time." Our small town has always been our home—serene and tranquil, surrounded by nothing but trees, fields, and rolling hills for miles.

Home.

"Shut it. You never know when it might work," we laugh, cruising down the familiar back road we take every day. It's the usual 45-minute drive to town, quite the journey. "Great," he mutters, flicking on the wipers as rain pelts the windshield. I adore the rain—its scent in the air just before it falls, the sheen and slickness it gives the pavement. I've always been captivated by the endless possibilities it brings. "We're never going to make it on time,"

We're en route to the annual horse show, a tradition we honor each year. Despite his predictable comments, I can't help but roll my eyes. The horse show is a highlight for me; it's where I can showcase Buttercup, and she thrives on it. She's a Clydesdale, my confidant, and my joy. Riding her, just the two of us against the backdrop of nature, is the epitome of tranquility. Our family ranch isn't the largest around, but it's home. We raise cows and horses, and our land spans 500 acres, mostly sown with corn and tobacco. My brother and I don't work typical jobs; the ranch is our livelihood. Glancing back at the horse trailer through the relentless rain, I feel a sense of pride.

"It's not going anywhere Maddie." I roll my eyes.

"Yeah, I know this, but I'm just checking jerk." Josh rolls his eyes, as he does every time I speak. Our banter is endless and often pointless.

When we reach town, I must say, it's usually quiet, but it comes alive during the horse show. There's not much here: a Wal-Mart, and the nearest mall is about an hour's drive. For fun? We have bonfires, go fishing, hunting, and occasionally, if we're fortunate, someone hosts a barn party. My reverie is interrupted by the sound of a horn. Looking up, I see Tristan and Ethan pulling up beside us, and I roll down the window just as they start to shout.

"Well, hello Darlin'." Rolling my eyes, I turn as Tristan's voice hollers in my direction.

"What are you all up to?" Josh calls out. I chuckle because he already knows the answer. The horse show is a town staple, akin to a mini fair. With music, food, rides, and friends all around, it's impossible not to enjoy.

"Welp, right now we are going down yonder to pick up some folks. Then we are going to meet you guys at the horse show. Save us a parking spot by the way." Tristan yelps, giving me a quick wink.

"We don't park in the same spot, we have the trailer," I say, pointing to the horse trailer behind us, prompting them to turn and look.

"Well, that's a good point," I hear as the cars behind us begin to honk, signaling the light has turned green. Tristan sticks his head out and confronts them, "Hold your horses, we're talking here!" I burst into laughter as they wave at us while we head off in different directions.

"Is Kristen coming?" I glance at Josh, noticing the grin spreading across his face. He remains silent, but his expression says it all. Kristen isn't local; she's from New York. The story of how they met remains a mystery to me. Let's just say she's unique—not in a bad way, but certainly unusual. Her platinum blonde hair and distinctive accent always catch me off guard. And God, her timing is off. I don't mean her intellect, rather her reaction time. For instance, she's the one who laughs at a joke ten minutes after everyone else, then realizes and says, "Oh, now I get it." When we first met, her speech was incomprehensible to me. It wasn't her accent; she simply spoke too quickly. I had to ask her to slow down. After all, in Kentucky, we take things at a leisurely pace.