Playing the Polo Player

“Not against you,” I huff.

“So you forfeit?” Anders asks cheerfully. “Good, maybe that’s enough to make me number one at the club.”

He goes to ride away from me, but I call after him. “Wait.” As much as I hate myself, the competitive streak in me and the burning desire to get revenge for Luce, even in the stupid, small way of a polo game, won’t let that happen. “Fine. Let’s play.”

Chapter Eleven

Luce

As I jump down from the truck, I’m immediately pulling my skirt down to make sure it’s covering me appropriately. I can’t even remember the last time that I wore a skirt. However, Sierra had insisted on us dressing the part. I’m wearing a white tennis skirt and a lavender, sleeveless blouse with my hair pulled into a sleek ponytail. For the first time since Sierra’s birthday a few months ago, I’m wearing more than just chapstick.

It isn’t that I don’t feel cute or myself in this outfit, it’s just that I feel it’s an outfit that draws attention to myself. And that’s what I’m not used to.

“I forgot how swanky this place is,” Sierra says as we walk past the building toward the back field. She’s also in a tennis skirt, though she’s in an over-sized button down for a top. She looks adorable, her short hair completing her sporty yet classy look.

As we near the field, I sigh at the sight of the game already going on. Oh well. Hopefully it hasn’t been going on long. We move toward the little crowd at the fence and stand off a little ways on our own.

I did a little research to understand that usually polo is played with teams, not just solo players, so I’m curious as to why there’s only two of them on the field. Maybe it’s just a little practice thing? “Which one is Rupert?” Sierra asks.

“The Appendix horse,” I tell her, my eyes trying to make out the details of him from this distance.

“Oh, he’s got a nice butt,” she compliments.

“Don’t I know it,” I joke, nudging her with my shoulder.

We giggle like schoolgirls and continue watching the match. Neither of us know what we are watching, other than it seems to just be a horse-version of soccer. They hit the ball up and down the field, riding side by side as they struggle for control of the ball’s direction. The horses have an impressive speed and build to them.

We cheer when Rupert makes a goal. And as the other player tramples across the field, my eyes widen. I recognize the horse now… And I think I can even make out the player. It’s Josh Anders. There’s a lump in my throat that I have to try and force myself to swallow. Why would Rupert invite me to watch him play Anders? Is this some sort of weird primal display of loyalty and protection? I shuffle awkwardly, not knowing how to feel about it if that’s the case. I suppose I wouldn’t hold it against him, but why wouldn’t he at least warn me?

My head is drowning in the back and forth of my own thoughts as I try to watch the match. Sierra seems to be having a good time, cheering and laughing all the while. At some point, she wanders off and brings herself a Martini and me a beer from the clubhouse. I take greedy gulps of it to calm my nerves. I don’t want to focus on Anders or the intentions of the two of us being here at the same time.

Eventually, I relax and continue with the cheering. It makes it easier to notice that while the match is close, Rupert is winning. “I think they are about to go into the final chuk,” I tell Sierra.

“The final what?” she snorts.

“Round, or whatever,” I explain quickly.

“You’ve been Googling! Whatcha trying to do? Impress him by knowing the vocab?” she teases.

“Don’t,” I blush. “I was curious is all.”

“Mhm, curious how to weasel your way further into this heart.”

I nudge her again with my shoulder and finish my beer. Sierra leaves to get us another round of drinks, making sure to say she’ll bring one for Rupert since it is almost over. Right as she walks off, the men are wrestling for the ball with their mallets. I can’t make out what’s going on because of the horses’ legs, but I notice Rupert jerk to one side as Anders knocks the ball his way toward the field.

There’s yelling, but its indistinct over the cheering. The men get close to one another and have an exchange of words before the final chuk begins. They continue their back and forth with the ball for what feels like ages. And then, just as time is about to run out, Rupert knocks the ball away from Anders. They are charging the opposite way, but Delmar is outrunning Anders’s horse with grace.