RED NOTES AND KISSES-Chapter 45: FRIDA -

They arrived at Silver Ridge Stables, a sprawling equestrian center nestled at the edge of the city.

Surrounded by rolling green fields and a backdrop of distant hills, it was the perfect escape for a morning of horse riding.

The stables, painted a pristine white with accents of rustic wood, stood proudly beneath the soft morning sun.

Frida was lost in her thoughts, her mind replaying fragments of moments with Laz, the tension, the stolen glances, the undeniable pull that always seemed to draw them back to each other.

The ache of regret mingled with a faint flicker of hope.

The chill of the early morning air nipped at her skin, refreshing and invigorating.

It was around 7 a.m., and the world still felt quiet, as if it hadn’t fully woken up yet.

She glanced down at her outfit, a full modern equestrian ensemble in deep velvet red that exuded elegance.

The tailored velvet jacket hugged her form perfectly, flaring slightly at the waist with silver buttons glinting down the front.

Beneath the jacket, she wore a crisp white high-collared blouse, adding a classic touch to the ensemble.

Her riding pants were a sleek shade of black, made of a stretch fabric that allowed for ease of movement while maintaining a sharp, polished look.

On her feet, knee-high black leather riding boots shone, their silver buckles catching the morning light.

She completed the look with a matching red velvet helmet that added an extra layer of sophistication.

Laurel, of course, was dressed in the same outfit, but hers was a vibrant pink, a hue so quintessentially "Barbie" it was impossible not to smile.

Her blonde hair was neatly tied into a ponytail that bounced with every step, and her enthusiasm radiated through her every movement.

Laurel practically bounced as she pulled into the parking lot, the engine of her pink 2025 Audi R8 Spyder purring smoothly before she turned it off.

She grinned at Frida, her excitement contagious. "Isn’t this the perfect morning?"

Frida managed a small smile, her thoughts still lingering elsewhere.

"Yeah," she murmured, stepping out of the car and looking around at the peaceful landscape.

Laurel, however, wasn’t one to let her best friend wallow for long. "Come on," she said, grabbing Frida’s hand and pulling her toward the stables. "Nothing clears your head like a good gallop."

As they approached the stable doors, the soft nickering of horses greeted them, along with the earthy scent of hay and leather.

Frida took a deep breath, letting the atmosphere ground her, if only for a little while.

Frida sighed, her shoulders slumping as the weight of reality settled over her. Of course, she wouldn’t dare dream that things could ever be simple with Laz.

How could they be?

She had made it difficult.

Every time she let her walls down, every fleeting moment they shared, she had found a way to complicate things.

Whether it was her sharp words, her hesitation, or the lingering anger she couldn’t quite let go of, it was always her.

She’d pushed him away even when she yearned for him, and now she was trapped in this endless dance of longing and regret.

A familiar voice echoed in her mind. Laz, with that half-smirk he always wore, whispering, "You’re overthinking it again, aren’t you?" It was as if he were there, teasing her, pulling her back into his gravity.

Laurel glanced back at her, noticing the shadow that crossed her face. "You okay?" she asked, her tone softening.

Frida forced a small smile and nodded. "Yeah, just... tired."

Laurel didn’t press further, though the knowing look in her eyes said she wasn’t entirely convinced. "Come on, some fresh air will do you good. Let’s go saddle up."

Frida followed in silence, her thoughts swirling like a storm.

Laz was so close, yet the distance between them felt insurmountable, a canyon she had helped carve out with her own hands.

But maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t too late to fix things.

If she could find the courage.

Laurel took hold of a magnificent black stallion, a Friesian, one of the most majestic and sought-after horse breeds for riding.

His name was Bernie, and he exuded both power and grace, his glossy black coat shimmering like silk in the morning light.

Laurel ran her fingers through his lustrous mane, her touch gentle and affectionate. "This is Bernie," she said with a warm smile. "I’ve had him since he was just a foal."

Her voice softened with pride as she adjusted his bridle. "Pick any horse you like," she added, her attention fully absorbed in Bernie as if he were the only thing that mattered at that moment.

Frida smiled at Laurel’s enthusiasm before her gaze wandered across the stables.

The warm scent of hay and the soft sounds of horses moving about were comforting, grounding her in the moment.

She watched as the stable hands led horses to various riders, each animal beautiful in its own way.

Then, one of the stable hands approached her, leading a stunning white Lipizzaner, a breed known for its elegance, intelligence, and smooth movements.

The horse had a radiant white coat, her strong yet graceful build making her look almost ethereal in the early morning light.

The stable hand, a short man with kind eyes and a soft smile, tipped his hat. "The gentleman said I should bring this one for you, my lady," he said, his tone gentle and respectful. "As a gift."

Frida blinked in surprise, her heart skipping a beat. Laz. It had to be him. Who else would leave a gift so thoughtful, so quietly meaningful?

She took a hesitant step forward, reaching out to stroke the horse’s velvety muzzle. "She’s... beautiful," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

Laurel, catching the interaction, grinned widely. "Oh, what a wonderful breed!" she exclaimed. "She’s stunning! What are you going to name her?"

Frida hesitated for a moment, her eyes catching sight of a small red note tied neatly to the horse’s saddle.

Curious, she reached for it, her fingers trembling slightly as she unfolded the paper. Written in bold, neat handwriting were the words:

"Enjoy the ride, my lady."

The note brought an unexpected warmth to her chest, and she couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face.

Running her fingers along the horse’s mane, she spoke softly, her voice filled with affection. "Little Red."

The name felt perfect. A quiet tribute to the mysterious note and to the man who never ceased to surprise her. She felt a pang of longing, imagining Laz’s expression if he could see her now.

Laurel beamed, giving Bernie a playful nudge as she said, "Little Red and Bernie, it’s going to be a beautiful ride."