california daze

“Rachel, listen to me,” he walked toward her now, holding his hands out and grabbing hers, even though she retaliated not a second later. He huffed and ran his forearm against his sweat-ridden forehead, the sound of his harsh breath practically startling Rachel. “You think everyone can’t tell you’re unhappy? Sweetheart, you practically breathe unhappy.”

She flinched at that, trotted even further away from him, and made sure to go out of her way just to keep her eyes off of him. He knew she’d be mad for awhile, of course, but it’s not like his words lacked honesty. (It was the one thing he was decently good at, aside from running around in a circus, apparently).

“One: don’t call me sweetheart,” she pushed past him and walked straight to the stallion, dusting off his side with the palm of her hand. She looked to Finn with apologetic eyes not a second later, tilting her head just a bit. “And two: maybe you’re right,” she whispered, almost as if someone would have to force the words out of her mouth in secrecy.

“I’m never right about anything,” he paused. “Just — just let me have my moment, alright?”

She giggled, nodding with pursed lips. “And I’m about to have mine in ten minutes,” she lifted her left hand up, took one glance at the watchband she wore and nodded confidently. “As much as I’d like to quit on Jesse St. James, I like this, Finn. I like this feeling.”

“What feeling?”

She bowed her head, took a deep breath and glanced at him for what seemed to be a solid minute. “Performing. Standing in front of a crowd and watching the face of each and every child in the front row the moment my horse stands on his legs with me still on his back. They’re in awe, Finn. They’re in awe of me.”