Chapter 14

Cellie was slightly drunk. She stuffed her hands into her Mounted Games jacket—the one adorned with a Japanese flag over the heart, a gift from her team after winning Internationals—and ambled slowly through the dim, stone pathways of campus leading to her dorm. Amanda had headed in the opposite direction, towards the flat she shared with Missy and Jasmine. This left Cellie alone, lost in her thoughts as she meandered under the orange glow of streetlights. Her paddock boots clattered on the uneven pavement, and she kicked at some leaves as she moved.

As she walked, her fingers traced over the line-up sheet she'd folded and stowed in her pocket. Though not nervous about the friendly competition with Appleton, she did feel a bit uneasy. Amanda had warned her that the all-male university could get overly aggressive during competitions—the last thing Cellie wanted to deal with were boastful guys convinced they were superior riders.

The sound of nearby footsteps made her look up. Diana was approaching, her expression neutral, the strap of a thick leather satchel slung across her chest. She didn't seem to have changed out of her riding gear either: tweed breeches, a long-sleeve shirt under a grey vest, and plaid calf-socks peeking out from fancy brown paddock boots.

Please don't notice me, Cellie silently pleaded as she hunched her shoulders and quickened her pace while staring at the ground.

"Cellie?"

Damn.

Cellie tightened her lips and exhaled sharply, glancing up to see that Diana had stopped. Her hair was neatly tucked into a French braid, and she wore frameless glasses—glasses that Cellie didn't even know she owned—that shifted her appearance in an interesting way before Cellie dismissed it with a curt nod. "Hitchens."

"Hey, wait, I've been meaning to talk to you."

Cellie slowed down as the girl spun around and adjusted the strap of her bag before continuing her walk. "I just wanted to ensure Hannah and Barbara were leaving your team alone. I had a meaningful conversation with them and Miss Meridien about respecting other riders and disciplines."

Cellie grunted, twitching her fingers in her pockets. "They've been fine. Haven't heard anything else," she muttered, mentally cursing herself for stumbling over her words. Damn Amanda and her tequila shots.

"Good. Are you headed to your dorm?"

"Yes."

Diana didn't say anything more but didn't turn around to head in the direction she originally intended, either. Cellie glanced over briefly at the other girl whose bright blue eyes were fixed straight ahead, teeth rolling over her bottom lip as if deep in thought.

"Did you have something else?" Cellie asked, correcting a wayward sway of her legs and focusing on walking in a straight line.

Diana hesitated. "I figured I would walk you to your building. It's not very safe to walk alone at night."

"You were walking alone at night," Cellie countered, lifting one hand to swipe at her nose before shoving it back into the warmth of her jacket pocket. "But you're right, crime is pretty high here; I should have considered that."

Diana's step faltered beside her, and Cellie looked up to see a deep frown spreading across the taller girl's features. "There's no need to be cheeky," Diana said, tightening her grip on the leather strap across her chest. "If I've done something to offend you, I apologize, but I assure you it was not my intention."

Cellie took a deep breath, pressing her lips together as she looked between Diana and the remaining distance to her dorm—still half the campus—before responding. "Sorry," she mumbled. Diana was right; she hadn't done anything wrong. She'd even willingly adjusted Chariot's lumbar instead of insisting on calling a chiropractor for an expensive farm call and quick procedure. And she'd stopped Hannah and Barbara from picking on Cellie's team.

Diana nodded and continued walking. It was clear she had no intention of letting Cellie walk home alone, so Cellie resigned herself to the company and carried on.

"Why are you out here?" Cellie asked finally.

Diana took out her phone, its screen casting a harsh light in the darkness as she scrolled. She frowned and quickly shoved it back into her vest pocket. "Library," she said, her voice calm despite the obvious unease in her expression. "Needed a few published dissertations for some extra research."

Cellie hummed in response. She hadn't yet visited the library but recognized the building with its tall, elegant columns atop a shallow, uneven staircase. "Cool," she replied.

"And you?"

"Just went out," Cellie said, pulling a folded piece of paper from her pocket and showing it to Diana before tucking it away again. "Got a friendly with Appleton this weekend. Had to plan out the line-ups."

Diana adjusted her heavy-looking bag and glanced at Cellie's gesture with a nod before staring straight ahead. "What's the line-up for?" she asked after a moment.

Cellie squinted into the darkness, feeling the cobblestones under her boots as she spotted the Chariot fountain and its ring of ethereal blue lights. "Four riders per—per race," she answered, briefly licking her lips. "Have to decide who goes where for tactics."

"I see."

Despite Diana's words, Cellie felt she didn't comprehend fully and felt compelled to explain more.

"So, there are different races, right?" Gaining confidence, Cellie hoped she didn't sound too tipsy—she loved talking about Games and Diana's question had opened the floodgates. "We have six players, so we have to plan who rides in each race based on their skills. If Charlotte isn't good at a race, we let her sit out so someone better can take her place. It's like..." Cellie gestured with the paper as she thought through her explanation. "If Hannah sucked at jumping, she'd stick to flat classes and since you're good at jumping, you'd be in the jumping classes."

"That makes sense. Hannah is very accomplished over fences though," Diana noted thoughtfully as they neared the fountain. "So there are multiple races?"

Cellie nodded. "Yes. Two days, ten races each day. We're given a list of potential races a week in advance, so we have some time to strategize."

Diana paused at the Chariot statue, looking as if she might stop, but instead she followed Cellie right up to her dormitory door. "And where is this competition happening?"

"Here for this one," Cellie replied. "This weekend. It's just a friendly match. Appleton's coming over. We'll visit their school next time." She pulled a leather bi-fold from her jacket pocket and rummaged for her keycard, glancing back at Diana who stood there with her hands stuffed into her vest pockets. "Thanks for walking with me. Glad I didn't get mugged," she chuckled, scratching the back of her neck with the hand holding the keycard. "But now you have to walk all the way across campus."

"That's fine, I can handle myself," Diana said with an amused smile. She started to turn away but then hesitated. "One more thing?"

Cellie looked up, pausing with her card before swiping it. "Yeah?"

Diana began walking backward, her smile fading as she did. "It's Diana," she said quietly before spinning on her heel and waving a hand nonchalantly in the air. "Not Hitchens."

Cellie grunted an acknowledgment as Diana walked away and then swiped her card, stumbling slightly under the weight of the door as she pushed herself inside. Her fingers brushed over a piece of paper in her hand while she thoughtfully climbed the stairs.

Maybe Hitchens—no, Diana—wasn't so bad after all. She'd listened to Cellie talk about Games—a topic Cellie could go on about forever—with genuine interest and without any judgment or ridicule. That had been refreshing.

Still, she didn't dwell on it too long because her head was spinning slightly, and moments later, she tripped up the stairs. Damn Amanda and her tequila shots.