Chapter 2: A Growing Distraction

The alarm clock buzzed incessantly, pulling Maeve from a light sleep. She groaned, reaching out to silence it. The morning sunlight filtered through her curtains, casting a warm glow across her room. Thoughts of Maplewood Farms and the previous day’s events flooded her mind—especially her encounters with Pebble.

Sliding her nude body from between the soft, warm sheets she dressed quickly, opting for comfortable denim shorts and a T-shirt, foregoing bra and panties, and headed downstairs. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee greeted her. “Morning, Maeve,” her mother said, glancing up from the kitchen table. “You’re up early again.”

“Yeah, I have some things to take care of before school,” Maeve replied, pouring herself a cup.

“Well, just make sure you don’t neglect your schoolwork,” her mother cautioned gently.

“I won’t,” Maeve assured her, grabbing an apple before heading out the door.

At Maplewood Farms

The cool morning air bit at Maeve’s skin as she made her way to Maplewood Farms. It was barely sunrise, but she had agreed to come in before school to help with the morning routines. The farm was quiet at this hour, with only the soft sounds of the horses stirring in their stalls.

Mr. Thompson was waiting for her near the barn, already halfway through his own work. “Good morning,” he greeted her, his voice calm and steady.

“Morning,” Maeve replied.

“Glad you could make it. We’ll keep things light so you’re not late for school. You’ll start with the horses, then help me with the ponygirls’ breakfast routine.”

Maeve nodded and set to work. She moved through the barn, filling feed buckets, checking water troughs, and greeting the horses as they poked their heads out of their stalls. It was peaceful—comforting even. But the whole time, her thoughts were already on the next task.

As she finished with the horses, Mr. Thompson motioned for her to follow him toward the area where the ponygirls were housed. “Pebble is already awake. She’s got some light training scheduled before you head out.”

Maeve’s stomach flipped slightly at the mention of Pebble. “Got it,” she said, her voice betraying none of the nervous excitement she felt.

When they reached Pebble’s stall, her handler—an older woman named Erica—was already there, preparing Pebble for the morning exercises. Pebble stood calmly, her short hair slightly tousled, her posture relaxed as Erica checked over her bridle and reins.

Maeve couldn’t help but smile when she saw Pebble. “Morning, Pebble,” she said softly.

Pebble’s eyes flicked toward Maeve, and though she didn’t smile, there was a hint of recognition in her gaze. Maeve wasn’t sure why, but even that small acknowledgment sent a rush of warmth through her.

“You’ve taken quite an interest in Pebble,” Erica said casually, glancing up from his work.

Maeve shifted awkwardly. “She seems ... different. I mean, they all do, but there’s something about her.”

Erica gave a small nod, her hands tightening the straps of Pebble’s bridle. “She’s a hard worker. Came a long way since she started here.” She paused for a moment, looking at Maeve with something like curiosity. “Few people connect with the ponygirls like you seem to. It’s good to see.”

Maeve wasn’t sure how to respond. She just gave a slight nod, feeling the weight of Erica’s words. “You can help me get her ready,” Erica continued, motioning for Maeve to join her. “She needs her hooves cleaned before the morning run.”

Maeve took the brush and lifted one of Pebble’s hooves and held it trapped between her knees to clean Pebble’s hooves. As she worked, she couldn’t help but notice the quiet way Pebble responded—subtle movements, small shifts that seemed to show she was comfortable with Maeve’s presence. It felt different from working with the horses. There was a level of trust between them, something unspoken that made Maeve’s heart race.

“She’s one of the best we have here,” Erica added, watching Maeve closely as she worked. “But she still needs guidance, just like the rest. A lot of people think they can handle this kind of life, but it’s not for everyone.”

Maeve nodded but didn’t respond immediately. This kind of life? She hadn’t really considered it in those terms before, but hearing Erica say it like that made her think. What kind of life was this for Pebble? And why did she choose it?

As they finished preparing Pebble, Erica gave her reins a final tug. “Alright, she’s ready for the morning run. Go ahead and take her out to the paddock. I’ll meet you out there.”

Maeve swallowed hard and led Pebble out of the stall, feeling the tension between them grow with every step. As they walked, Maeve found herself stealing glances at Pebble, wondering how much of Jessica was still in there.

When they reached the paddock, Maeve gave Pebble one last look. “I’ll see you after training,” she said softly, knowing there wouldn’t be a reply but hoping that the connection she felt was mutual.

Pebble’s eyes met hers for a brief second before Erica arrived, taking the reins from Maeve. “Good work this morning,” she said. “You’ll be late if you don’t get going, though.”

Maeve glanced at the time, realizing with a start that she was right. She hurried back to the barn, grabbed her things, and took one last look at the paddock where Pebble was now being led through her exercises. Even as she turned away, her thoughts stayed with Pebble, already distracting her as the day ahead stretched before her.

At School

As she drove to school, Maeve’s thoughts drifted back to Pebble. It was as if her mind wouldn’t let her settle on anything else. Every little detail from the previous day was sharp in her memory: Pebble’s enigmatic smiles, the way they seemed to understand each other without words, and the revelation that Pebble was once Jessica Whiling. The idea gnawed at her—how could someone transform their life so completely? And why?

She glanced at her reflection in a shop window as she passed by, catching the distant look in her own eyes. Snap out of it, Maeve, she thought, but even as she tried to pull herself back to the present, her mind drifted back to the farm.

At school, Maeve trudged through the school hallway, her backpack slung over one shoulder, mind still lost in thoughts of Maplewood Farms. Students milled about, talking, laughing, and throwing quick glances at their phones, but Maeve’s focus was elsewhere—on Pebble, or rather, Jessica Whiling.

Jessica Whiling. She’d been a student here, just like her, and now? She was someone entirely different—someone Maeve couldn’t stop thinking about.

“Maeve!” a voice called out.

She turned to see her friend Kelsey jogging up to her. “Hey, you okay? You’ve been zoning out all morning.”

Maeve forced a smile. “Just tired. Work has been keeping me busy. I’m not used to the physical exercise.”

Kelsey eyed her suspiciously but didn’t push it. “Well, you missed a ton of homework in history. Want to meet up after school to go over it?”

“Can’t,” Maeve replied automatically. “I’ve got work.”

“At that farm?” Kelsey wrinkled her nose. “What do you even do there?”

“Mostly taking care of the animals,” Maeve replied vaguely.

Kelsey raised an eyebrow. “You mean horses, right? I heard they have some weird stuff going on there.”

Maeve shrugged. “It’s not that weird once you get used to it.”

“If you say so,” Kelsey said skeptically. “Just don’t get too caught up in it.”

“I won’t,” Maeve said, though she wasn’t sure if that was true. “Anyway, I’ve got to go. Catch you later.”

The morning classes dragged on. Maeve found it hard to focus, her mind constantly drifting back to Maplewood Farms. In history class, she stared blankly at the notes on the board, the words blurring together.

During lunch, she sat with her usual group of friends but remained quiet, picking at her food. “Earth to Maeve,” another friend, Lucas, said, waving a hand in front of her face. “You’ve been awfully quiet today.”

“Sorry, just thinking,” she replied.

“About what?” he pressed.

“Just stuff,” Maeve said, not wanting to delve into details. Lucas exchanged a glance with Kelsey but didn’t push further.

After school, Maeve headed straight to the farm. It felt like the only place where her restless thoughts made any sense. When she arrived at Maplewood, Mr. Thompson was waiting for her in the barn, already setting up for the afternoon work. His eyes narrowed slightly as she approached. She found Mr. Thompson organizing equipment.

“Maeve, good timing,” he said, handing her a grooming kit.

“We’ve got a busy day ahead. Today, you’ll help feed and groom the horses. And after, I need you to help prepare the ponygirls for their afternoon training. Erica showed you how to do that yesterday.”

Maeve’s stomach tightened at the mention of the ponygirls, particularly one ponygirl. “Got it,” she replied, hoping her voice sounded steadier than she felt.

He nodded. “Good. Pebble responds well to you.”

When Maeve finished with the horses, she headed toward the part of the barn reserved for the ponygirls. As she approached, she saw them lined up, each in their minimalistic gear, waiting for the handlers to prepare them for the afternoon session. And there was Pebble, standing quietly among the others.

Maeve’s heart skipped a beat. She grabbed a bucket of water and a sponge, her task for the day being to help clean and prepare them before they were led out to train. She tried to focus on the work, but with each step closer to Pebble, her pulse quickened.

When she reached Pebble, she hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Hey, Pebble,” Maeve said softly, unsure if she was even allowed to address her directly. She stepped inside the stall with the grooming kit.

Pebble glanced up at her, and though she didn’t speak, her eyes softened in recognition. Maeve felt that same connection—something deeper, something she couldn’t explain. The tension between them was almost palpable.

“I’m supposed to get you ready for training,” Maeve explained, keeping her voice low, as if they were sharing a secret. She gently wiped down Pebble’s arms and back, her touch light but careful. The entire time, Maeve couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of emotions—curiosity, fascination, and something dangerously close to attraction.

She continued grooming, but her mind was spinning. She couldn’t keep her thoughts straight around Pebble anymore. Every touch, every glance—it was becoming too much. The silence between them felt loaded, like there was something waiting to be said or felt. But it wasn’t just Pebble. It was Maplewood itself—the farm, the ponygirls, the choices they had made. Maeve’s thoughts were in turmoil. Pebble’s story, knowing who she used to be, only deepened the complexity of Maeve’s growing feelings.

She took a deep breath, trying to stay focused. “You were Jessica, right?” Maeve asked softly, almost hesitant. She didn’t want to push too hard, but she couldn’t avoid it anymore. “Before all this?” Pebble’s expression softened, and her eyes flickered with recognition. She nodded, slowly.

“I remember you,” Maeve continued, her voice quieter now. “From school. You were always quiet, but everyone knew you were brilliant. It must’ve been hard—what happened with your family.”

Pebble’s gaze dropped slightly. Maeve could see the pain flash across her face for just a moment before it vanished behind the calm mask she always wore. Maeve regretted bringing it up but felt compelled to say something, to connect.

“I just want you to know,” Maeve said gently, “I’m here. If you ever ... need someone to talk to.”

Pebble’s lips pressed into a tight smile, a wordless acknowledgment of Maeve’s offer, but no more than that. It was clear that Pebble wasn’t ready—or maybe never would be. Maeve nodded, her hands still on Pebble’s shoulders. Their eyes met briefly, and Maeve felt a surge of something she couldn’t quite name—a connection, fragile and tentative, but undeniable. “You know,” Maeve said, almost to herself, “I feel like I’ve known you forever, even though we’ve only just met. It’s weird, right?”

To her surprise, Pebble’s lips curled into a faint smile, and she tapped her hand lightly against her chest, as if to say, I know. Before Maeve could say anything else, Mr. Thompson appeared in the doorway of the stall, his presence breaking the quiet tension.

After grooming Pebble, Maeve put away the grooming kit and waited for her real groom to tack her up and lead her to the training arena. Dressed in her regular training harness, Pebble was ready for her afternoon exercises. “Maeve, once you’re done with her, bring her to the paddock,” the handler instructed.

With a quiet sigh, she finished her task, leading Pebble out of the barn and into the paddock where the other ponygirls were gathered. As Maeve led Pebble to the paddock, Maeve felt the weight of her interest in Pebble, the distraction it was quickly becoming.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur. Maeve tried to focus on her duties, but her thoughts kept circling back to Pebble. The way she moved with grace, her silent strength, and the quiet understanding in her eyes—it was all too much for Maeve to ignore.

As the day came to an end, Maeve found herself lingering near the barn, watching as the ponygirls were led back to their stalls. She knew she should leave, head home, and prepare for school the next day. But something held her back, pulling her toward Pebble’s stall one last time.