Literally just a bunch of stuff that I doubt I'll continue

Rich girl problems

"Well maybe if you fucking listened the first god damned time I say shit then I wouldn't have to get angry!!" I whirled away from them, tears burning my eyes I began to stomp away.

"You're a shit rider anyway! Just fucking quit already! You'll never make it!" She screams after me.

I turn, my fists balled, "just you fucking watch me, mother dearest", I snarl.

I lock myself in the shed a moment and ball my eyes out.

I'm done.
Done with her shit.

I'm not doing this anymore.

I stand up and start packing.

Two hours later my cruiser is stuffed to the brim with all my gear, as is my float and I've got both my horses loaded.

I push the car into drive and pull out onto the driveway.

I get put onto the highways and head north, I'm not really sure where I'll go but I'll find somewhere.

The stars twinkle and my red 'P' plate swings slightly on my dash.

I turn my music up until the car is thumping and soon find myself lost in a mix of fall out boy, maroon 5, and a huge mix of new pop songs.

I cruise easily along the highway for a good hour before pulling into a gas station.

I fill up the cruiser, admiring the gun metal grey paint work.

It's a 200 series Land cruiser and it matches the big gooseneck that's currently holding my babies. They were both a gift for my sixteenth last year, alongside a few other expensive items.

My parents own a massive agricultural machinery company so we're not exactly short on money.

I'm not gonna lie and say that even though I've grown up in an elite, incredibly rich, and very materialistic environment, that money doesn't matter to me, because it does.

Money gets you places. It's a huge power advantage over people who don't have money and I'd be a big ass liar if I said I don't like that fact.

I know I'm a trust fund kid, and I'm proud of that.

But it doesn't change that I still believe in good, hard work.

There's no use having the good stuff if you can't use it.

I finish filling up my gas tank and run inside, paying for the gas and buying some shitty snacks.

Then I head back out and jump in the car.

I'm on the highway again before I know it, and this time, I have a plan.

A good half hour later I'm turning down a long, winding driveway.

I turn my music down as I near the yard, then I pull up in front of a massive stable block and turn my car off.

I jump out and duck through a small door that's next to the big door on the building.

Inside the lights are on and there's the sound of soft music coming from the office down the end of the main aisle.

I strut through, admiring the heads that pop over stall doors as I do.

As I near the office I get a good view through the big window in the side of it and my heart skips a beat.

The tall, stocky, dark haired boy inside is reclined in a wheely chair,  his boot-clad feet swung up on the desk, his eyes closed as he bobs his head to the music.

He looks so peaceful, I almost don't want to disturb him.

But my horses are waiting.

I swing open the door and step inside.

His lashes flutter open, revealing stunning coffee coloured eyes and his perfect lips stretch into a lazy smirk.

"Hey there", his voice is low and scratchy, but it's a sexy scratchy.

"Hey", i saunter into the room and over to the desk.

"Good drive?"

"Yeah, you gonna help me with these horses now?" I lean forwards a little.

"Yeah sure",  he gets up and walks around the b