Fairmont!
“Vivienne? Hello? You okay?”
I sit up quickly, feeling dizzy all over again, trying to focus, seeing the gray mare—my mare—Harmony in her stall, turning away from me. “Uh, um…” I stutter.
“You are Vivienne? Right? Are you okay? What happened?”
“I… yeah, I’m Vivienne. How did you know?” I try to stand up. “I’m fine.”
“No. No,” he says. “I don’t think that standing is such a good idea. I should get the school nurse.”
“No! Seriously. I am fine.” The last thing I need after already being looked at as the freakish scholarship new girl and having Golden Boy find me passed out in the horse’s stall—the horse with the vacant eyes, no less—is to have word get out that I fainted.
“You sure?”
I nod slowly, still absorbing every movement of his lips. “Yes.”
He stands up and holds out a hand. “I’m Tristan. I found you here. Passed out. What happened?”
I take his hand and he pulls me up. I stumble, falling into his chest. My body grows hot, and I just know my face is probably magenta.
“Whoa. You sure you’re okay?”
I pull myself up straight. “Yes. Hi. Thank you. I flew in earlier today and didn’t drink much water and…”
“Uh-huh. Okay. I still think you should see the nurse.”
“No. I’ll… lie down for a bit. That’ll be good.” I am nodding a bit too enthusiastically.
“I’ll walk you back to your room.” He opens the stall door and I follow him out.
Am I still dreaming? “No. I’m okay.”
“I insist,” he says. “I just came out to give my horse some carrots and happened to see you passed out.” He points to the large chestnut next to Harmony’s stall. (Ah! He owns Mr. OCD/Sebastian. What might this say about him?) “I’d heard the new girl’s horse would be Harmony.” He looks down. “I’m glad she’s getting someone to take care of her.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
He looks at me, those green, green eyes so intense and so damn beautiful. “No one told you?”
“Told me what?”
“About Harmony’s owner. Dr. Miller?”
“The vet who passed away last week?”
“Harmony was her horse. It was in her will that the horse go to the school in the event of her death.”
It suddenly all makes sense. She misses her owner. I start feeling better. It might take a few days, but once I explain to her that I’m here for her, then maybe I can help her recover from her loss and… but what if I can’t help her? What if I am over my head on this one?
I feel a hand on my shoulder and swing back around. It’s Golden Boy. “You sure you’re all right?”
“Fine.” I look away, feeling my face heat up again. “I’m gonna go now. Thanks for helping me.”
“You know, I’d feel a lot better if…”
“Tristan!”
We turn around to see a long-haired blond, blue-eyed girl. (Jesus, could someone just please look normal and regular here in Barbie-and-Ken Land?) She is bouncing—as in braless bouncing—down the barn aisle. Bouncy Barbie practically lights up like a Christmas tree on steroids as she bounces toward us, and I notice Tristan’s eyes widen some. He smiles weakly. “Hi, Lydia.”
“Hi? Hi. Is that all I get?” Her lips are pink and glossy, her blue eyes expertly rimmed in dark eyeliner. I shift uneasily. I mean, this girl is really pretty. “You don’t see me all summer and I get a ‘hi’? How are things at home? I mean, I know how they were.” She smirks. “All those texts and e-mails. You are such a bad boy!” She smacks his chest lightly.
First I faint. Now will I barf?
“I hope you saved some of that naughtiness for me.”
Speechless. Me. Totally.
She turns her shiny self toward me. “Oh. New girl. Hello. Welcome. I’m Lydia Gallagher.”
I shake her manicured hand and can’t help wondering how in the world she rides with these nails.
“Lydia, this is Vivienne.”
“Oh. Oh. That explains it. The scholarship girl. Nice going. Rumor has it you are very talented. We should have a little fun competing this year.”
“Right, so what do you mean, that explains it?” I ask.
She giggles and waves a hand. “Oh, nothing. Nothing that can’t be fixed.”
I cross my arms and eyeball her. “I’m confused.”
She points at my clothing. “I’m sorry. That won’t do.”
“Lydia,” Tristan says, his tone tinged with warning.
“What? I’m only trying to help the new girl out.”
“Thanks. I don’t need your particular kind of help.” I turn and start walking back down the barn aisle. “Thank you again, Tristan.”
When I am obviously still in earshot I hear Lydia say: “Wow, she’s a little interesting. And she definitely needs my help.”
“You coming to movie night?” Tristan hollers after me.
I turn back around and catch a death glare from Lydia. “I’m not sure.”
“If you come tonight, we can save you a seat.”
He seems awkward, and I definitely feel awkward as Lydia locks her fingers around his and leans possessively against him.
On the walk back to my room I am thinking: What in the hell have I gotten myself into by coming to Fairmont?
TRISTAN
CHAPTER eight
What was that all about?” Lydia spouts as soon as Vivienne is out of the breezeway. She grips Tristan’s hand tighter.
“What was what all about?” he asks, his stomach twisting into a knot.
“The new girl? We’ll save you a seat at movie night? Um, yeah… no. Think I have some opinions here.”
He sighs. “Why do you have to be like that? I mean, really? She seems like a nice girl and she’s new. Why can’t you just be a little more decent to people outside your clique?”
She drops his hand and crosses her arms. “Are you serious? That girl would never fit in with us. She’s so average.”
“Not as a rider.” Truthfully, Tristan hasn’t found Vivienne Taylor to be average in any way. Not at all. Long, dark-reddish hair, amazing blue eyes. Beautiful. Not glamour-girl beautiful like Lydia, but unique.
And he can appreciate unique.
“Oh no, don’t tell me you find that girl hot?” She approaches him and places her hands on his chest, looks up at him. “Come on, T. Me and you are who everyone here dreams of being. I didn’t mean to be nasty, but honestly, you know as well as I do that that girl won’t fit in.” She moves her hands up around his neck and slicks her fingers through the short ends of his hair.
Tristan closes his eyes. God, she is impossible to ignore.
Lydia backs him up against one of the stall doors, tracing a finger down his chest. “You know, I think we should make good on some of our texts over the summer. The things we said we wanted to do.” She raises her eyebrows. “I missed you. A lot.” Her hands move all over him and he can’t resist putting his around her waist, then inching them up underneath her shirt.
“I missed you, too,” he finally says.
She smiles up at him. “And after what you told me… the secret. I knew that you must really trust me. For you to share what…”
“I don’t want to talk about that.”
“I understand. I am just happy you felt you could tell me.”
He swallows hard. He’d had a weak moment over the summer and confided something to Lydia. Something that, if it ever got out, would ruin his family.
How stupid could I be?
“Well, since you feel like you can trust me with your deepest, darkest secrets. I think I can trust you with something of mine.”
“Mm-hmm,” he replies
“I, uh… I just got the pill, so it’ll take like a month, but then…”
What is there to say? He likes her. Except the fact that she can be a first-class bitch, like she had been toward Vivienne. She is hot like no
one else at the school. And, they’d been together for about a month before school ended last year and she had to head back home to Georgia. And, yeah, they had texted all summer and e-mailed, and the things they’d “talked” about doing… “You did?” he finally asks.
“I want our first time to be special. I made some plans. Homecoming is only a few weeks away, and I thought that maybe after the dance we could get away,” she says.
“To where?”
“How about the Olympic House? No one ever goes there.”
“But, it’s kind of… old. I’ve never thought of it as, uh, romantic.”
She bats her eyelashes. “That’s where you come in. You will make it nice in there for our special night, and I will make everything very nice for you.”
He clears his throat, trying hard to ignore the heat traveling through him.
“I have to go now. I have a jump lesson. I’ll see you tonight.” She turns and saunters away.
Tristan shakes his head and lets out a long shuddery sigh. Somehow as Lydia walks away, Vivienne Taylor enters his mind and he can’t help wondering if she’s really okay. God, is he being a total ass? Is he really that guy?
He starts back to his room and runs smack dab into Nate Deacon. Over the years at Fairmont, Nate has tried to convince everyone that Tristan and he are best buddies. Tristan keeps the guy at arm’s length because if you don’t play nice with him, Nate will figure out a way to make life a bit of a hell for you.
“Hey, T. How’s it going?”
“Good. Just heading up to my room.”
“Right. By the way, congrats on being number three,” Nate says.
“Excuse me?”
“You, my friend, are lucky number three. I followed little Red down here, and gotta say she is a hot one. Kind of weird, though. Saw her yell at the horses just before Becker intro’d himself. Then, when she passed out, you were right there, Prince Charming? Nice move.”
Tristan shoves his hands into his pockets. “What? What the hell are you talking about? You saw Vivienne faint in the stall?”
“Riley met her when she first arrived and then I made it a point to meet her next. Then, I decided to put the scope on her. Give her a little follow and see who number three might be. You are it. Oh, and nice with Lydia. You got that all tied up, don’t you?”
Tristan shakes his head. “First off, it’s creepy that you followed her, and then watched me try and help her. Then you watched me with Lydia?”
“I only saw your chick wrap her arms around you. It wasn’t like I’m all Mister Peeping Tom. I let you two kids have your moment. I watched Red hike back to her dorm. Mmm. Nice fresh new ass.”
“Listen, I’m not ‘it’ or in. The bet is stupid.”
“Riley doesn’t think so. He is definitely in.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Well, he will be,” Nate says. “Just like you will be, too.”
“Forget it. Forget her. Good-bye, Nate.”
Ass. Tristan walks back to the dorm with Vivienne Taylor on his mind.
CHAPTER nine
I don’t make it to movie night for a couple of reasons. First I am completely embarrassed and don’t want to run into Golden Boy and Boobie. The second is that I got a horrific headache.
The upside is that I meet my roommate Martina, and she is exactly as Kayla told me she’d be—nice, bright, and funny. We immediately hit it off. And—she’s neither golden nor blonde! Her family is Latino and she has dark, shoulder-length hair, deep-brown eyes, and olive skin.
We decide to kick back in our suite and talk. “So, is this place as perfect as it seems?” I ask.
“It’s pretty great,” she says. “The classes and the lessons are hard, though. It’s definitely intense.”
“You’ve been here since you were a freshman?”
“All three years,” she replies. “I think the education is great, and our riding lessons are taught by some of the best instructors in the world.”
“Why do I hear a ‘but’ in there?” I ask.
“I love the school and teachers…”
“You said that already.” I look over at her. Martina casts her eyes downward and crosses her arms, leaning back against the couch. “Let me guess, the social scene is even tougher?”
She nods. “The thing is, you would think that since all of us have our love for horses in common, we would be like one big happy family.”
I shake my head. “Not necessarily. Let’s face it, unless you are on a country team or ride for one of the clubs, so much of eventing is an individual sport. Sure, we can choose to team-ride, but in reality, we ride to win for ourselves. I would imagine, by just looking around this place this afternoon, that’s the vibe—win and take no prisoners.” I laugh.
“For a lot of kids here, that is the case,” she replies.
“You must have some friends here, though. You’ve been here going on three years.”
She frowns. “My best friend Jules took a bad spill last year out on cross-country. She’s actually paralyzed now. She’s from Texas, and her parents took her home. I don’t know. I have a hard time making friends, I guess.”
“Oh my God. I’m so sorry about your friend. That’s awful. Is she okay? I mean relatively speaking, I guess.” I fumble for the right words.
Martina shrugs. “Jules is tough, and there is some hope for recovery. We e-mail and talk sometimes, but it has been hard on her.”
“I am just really sorry.”
She musters a smile. “Thanks. And, well, I suppose I don’t exactly fit in with some of the kids here. Unless you look like Lydia Gallagher or Emily Davenport…”
“Met both of them,” I reply.
“You shouldn’t have a problem making friends here. You’re really pretty.”
I automatically make a face at her. “They are so not who I want to hang out with. Speaking of, what’s the deal with that guy Tristan?”
She laughs. “Oh, you’ve met Lydia’s guy. Yeah, she’s got that poor sucker wrapped so tight around her bitchy little finger.”
“I figured. She’s so obnoxious.”
“But he is hot, isn’t he?”
I laugh. “Maybe.”
“Oh please, everyone knows he’s hot, and everyone knows she’s hot, and they’re just this gross hot couple.”
“And that Riley kid?”
“Look at you. You’ve noticed all the cuties, haven’t you?”
“Actually, he was kind of a jerk to me,” I reply.
“Riley’s okay. Except he does hang out with Lydia and her people. Shannon Burton has a thing for him. I’m sure you’ll meet her. She received the scholarship two years ago and was one of the few ‘outsiders’ to be inducted in with the popular kids.”
“And I met Nate Deacon?”
“Slimeball.”
“Obviously,” I concur.
After we chow down a pizza, Martina says, “We should probably work those calories off.”
“The gym, now?” I ask.
“Nope. You got any favorite singers, bands?”
“No Doubt?”
Martina shakes her head. “Not on my iPod. You like Taylor Swift?”
“Yep!”
She puts on the music, grabs my hand, and starts to dance. At first, I feel silly. “Come on, Vivienne. It’s a dance party!”
“Fine.” After several minutes of goofing off and looking like a couple of clowns, we plop down on the couch, gasping, and laugh like maniacs. We laugh like Mia and Kate and I do back at home. I twirl the charms on the bracelet they gave me, smiling when I see Austen’s charm. I’m relieved that I have at least found one friend here.
Martina finishes giving me the lowdown on the toughest teachers, on how to manage lessons, on campus chores, and a ton more.
We finally say good night, and even though I’m exhausted from the day, I have a hard time falling asleep, my mind on the mare—hopeful that with a new day, I’ll receive a different response from her. One that will indicate to
me that Harmony and I are going to have a successful partnership, just like Dean and I had.
CHAPTER ten
Saturday. The rest of the students are arriving, and the place is busy. With all the activity no one notices me quite as much. I can still sense some looks and whispers, but it isn’t as bad as the day before.
Martina has gone back to her house to grab a few more things. I think it’s kind of interesting that her family lives only forty-five minutes inland, and yet she lives on campus, but I didn’t ask her about this last night.
Kayla Fairmont came by our room this morning and basically insisted that I attend the mixer tonight. She said that it was a good opportunity to get to know some of the other students and that Martina should help make those introductions for me. Martina and I agreed to go, but we aren’t exactly excited about it.
I walk toward the barns, feeling the nerves in my stomach, and silently pray that this will be a good day.
I reach Harmony’s stall, take the halter off the hook, and unlatch the door. She stands as she did the day before—outside the stall in the far corner of her run. “Hey, girl,” I say, walking up to her. I purposely do not look into her eyes. I put the halter on her with ease. I begin to run my hands all over her body, the smells of horse, earth, and hay wafting through the air. She doesn’t move as I pet her. She also doesn’t have any response to me. Dean would be talking the entire time to me about what he likes, and where he’s sore, and on and on. I remind myself that this could take time, and patience is key.
Sebastian tells me once again to come over and pet him and give him his specific treats. Him I hear loud and clear.
I finally come around to Harmony’s neck and then her head. I run my hands down the front of her face. That she does not shy away is a good sign. I look into her eyes. The vacancy is not there like it had been, but something has replaced it. A sadness, and… fear? “What is it, sweet girl? What happened to you? You can tell me. I will understand. I know your owner is gone, and that’s probably very confusing for you,” I say aloud. Then I think the words. Conjure up images in my mind that, in the past, allowed horses to understand that they were safe with me, and that I understood their need for safety.
Silent Harmony: A Vivienne Taylor Horse Lover's Mystery (Fairmont Riding Academy Book 1) Page 5
