The actual hoof-wrestle is, in fact, shorter than the countdown that lead up to it. MacIntosh’s extraordinary strength wins, of course. This is followed by a rematch demanded by Rainbow Dash, who refuses to go down that easily, as always. Then another rematch. Then another.
“Alright, I get it, you win for now, geez!” she concedes by the fifth defeat, rubbing her foreleg, “Uh, five losses doesn’t mean five days working, does it?”
“Nope.”
“Okay, good. So who’s hoof-wrestling next?”
Twilight and Applejack throw each other knowledgeable glances. Unbeknownst to you, this was their cue.
“You know,” Pinkie Pie hints nonchalantly, “I dunno how strong human fore-hooves are, maybe our guest of honour could show us!”
“That depends,” you mumble into your cider tankard, “I don’t think I’m as strong as some ponies here. Who would I be against?”
“I’ll put my own self forward for that.” Applejack, of all ponies, steps up to the table, “I’m not as good as Rainbow, I’ll admit, but I reckon I’ll be a challenge. By the way, Pinkie, they‘re called arms.”
After some encouragement from the other party-goers, you finally give in and sit opposite the orange-coated challenger. She raises a foreleg onto the table, offering you to grip the hoof. Your hands clasp firmly against it - it feels smooth, well-worn, and gentle in its own right. Nothing like the hooves of the creatures you knew back home.
“So what’s on the line if I win?” you ask, “A cider barrel? A day off or two?”
Applejack's smirk definately looks like she's planning something, “Ask for whatever you want, and I’ll do it. So long as you do the same if I win.”
“Deal.”
“On three! Ready?” the self-appointed referee, Twilight Sparkle, announces, “One, two… Three!”
Applejack’s unusual strength takes you by surprise; you falter, nearly having your hand hit the table as soon as it began. You manage to recuperate, slowly bringing the competition back towards the centre. Your opponent’s green eyes flicker to you, her lips curve into a knowing smile despite the strain on her face. What’s she planning? Never mind; less thinking, more pushing!
You’ve got her backed into a corner now, her hoof drawing closer to the table as you push down with the last reserves of your strength. But to no avail; her hoof just wouldn’t get all the way down.
“You know,” Applejack grins though the pain, trying not to make it look like a grimace, “Most hoof-wrestlers use the last of their strength to finish their opponent off. It’s easier for me to keep myself in the game than it is for you to beat me at it.”
“Wh-what’s your point?” You try to ignore the burning feeling in your arm, alongside the involuntary shaking from the tension. You push with every ounce of strength, but her hoof remains still, inches away from the table’s surface.
“I lost against my buddy Rainbow once because I used too much of my strength too soon,” she continues, “when I should’ve just waited for her to get tuckered out. Kinda like you are now. It‘s an easy mistake to make.”
“Huh? Whoa-!” her hoof suddenly pushes back, bringing itself from one side of the table to the other. In the space of a second, the roles reverse, with Applejack gaining the advantage. Your exhausted arm tries desperately to stay up, but it’s no use.
“And now that you’ve got nothin’ left, sugar,” she smirks, “you’ve turned yourself in for an easy finish.”
BAM.
It’s all over. You lose.
With a humble round of applause from the other ponies, you congratulate Applejack on a good game and attempt to pick up your cider tankard. Your tired arm finds it far too heavy now; best to use your off-hand for a while.
“So, what is it you want, now that you’ve won?” You look away from your cider to see Applejack shift nervously as she changes seats. From opposite you to right next to you. She looks glances at her friends, each of them giving her approving nods or smiles, before turning back to you.
“A date.”
Luckily, you already have your tankard up to your lips when she says that; you’re able to get most of it back in there when you spit it out in shock. Surely you heard wrong?
“Pardon?”
“I… like you.” she straightens herself up, as if saying those words had taken a weight off her mind, “I think you’re really special. And I‘m not saying this because of what you are, but to me you’re one of a kind.”
One of her hooves gently rest on your shoulder.
“Which is why I’m asking you on a date.”
Those words make the beat of your heart trip over itself.
“What?”
“I like you, sugar. Plain as apple pie.” by the look on her face, you can tell she‘s not joking, “I’ve just been mite bashful about it until now.”
“What?” You echo like a broken record. This was either the best thing to happen to you or the worst. “Applejack, I like you too, I really do, but we can’t. You’re not my…”
You could cut the tension in that barn with a knife. Any party-like atmosphere takes a backseat to Applejack’s confession. To your hesitance.
“Not your species?” she finally says, “That shouldn’t get in the way of what makes us happy. Look at my cousin Braeburn, he’s with a buffalo right now, and everypony‘s fine with that. There are ponies, cows, zebras, griffins, donkeys, even dragons out there in Equestria who can hold relationships across species just fine. We’re all laid back about this sort of thing these days.”
A certain dragon coughs quietly and nudges a certain stylish unicorn as if hinting at something. Nopony really notices.
“It’s more complicated than that,” you grasp for an excuse. If not for her, then for yourself. “Where I come from, humans just find love with other humans. There’s no other choice there. I know it’s different in Equestria, but it just feels… wrong to me. Dating a pony? Kissing one? It doesn‘t seem right.”
“How would you know? Have you ever kissed a pony before?”
She knew the answer. You didn’t even have to shake your head.
“Give us this one chance.” Applejack whispers, “Just to be sure. Please.”
This is all happening too quickly. Your mind throws arguments back and forth, before ultimately giving in. Just trying it can’t be so wrong.
Can it?
Silently, you face the mare sitting next to you. Your hands rest on her equine shoulders, holding her close. Your eyes scan the rest of the room, at the other ponies watching in anticipation. MacIntosh is polite enough to look away from you and his sister, as a bigger brother would. You visibly swallow out of unease, and close your eyes.
It’s now or never.