Chapter 21
Ellie
My heart feels like it’s about to leap up my throat as I lean over the toilet. The Olympic scout is here and I’m in the bathroom hurling up the contents of my stomach.
So much for all the food I ate at the picnic.
The picnic where Colton had admitted to finding me beautiful. Butterflies swarm my aching gut, and I groan against the sensation. It’s not like this is brand new information—I’ve seen the way he watches me, I’ve caught him on more than one occasion and have been met with a disarmingly charming smile.
Would he have said more if we weren’t summoned back to the yard? Would I have wanted him to?
It would be easier to decipher all of this if my knees weren’t knocking together.
How the actual fuck am I going to cope if I do make it to the Olympics? This is the very first hurdle and I’m flailing like a fish out of water.
“Eleanor,” My mother hisses from just outside the door, “Are you quite finished? You mustn’t be late.”
I stand from the toilet bowl, wiping my face with the back of my hand. “Coming, mother.” My voice is shaky, my throat burns and there’s an acrid taste in my mouth. I splash my face with some cold water before looking at my reflection in the mirror .
I’m a wreck, all the color has leached from my face and loose strands of hair stick to my sweat covered skin.
More rushed knocks come from the door before I switch off the tap and exit the stable bathroom.
My mother is already red in the face, her foot tapping furiously on the red brick as I close the door behind me.
“Does that medication of yours even do anything?” She hisses, linking her arm with mine as she steers me in the direction of Remi’s stall.
I debate telling her that, without my medication, I would have locked myself in that bathroom until the scout left the premises. Her elbow digs into my ribs as we walk, her arm like an iron clamp around my own.
“The scout will be in the gallery, I will be sitting with him.” Her head is angled towards me, voice low and deadly. “You will complete your practice session as if it is a regular day, nothing out of the ordinary. Practice your cues, polish your transitions and then you’ll do a full run through of your routine. Remember, the scout is observing all of you over the next two days—this means the jumpers, the cross-country bumpkins and the dressage riders. You must stand out, do you hear me? The dressage riders have his attention today and you need to be memorable. If he likes what he sees, he will be back in a couple of weeks. There’s a very high chance that he will only select one of you, out of the entire team, two max. The Olympic squad is young and full of talent, which means there are very limited spots to fill. Make him want you on the team— need you on that team.” She unlinks her arm from mine, running her hands through her hair as we reach Remi’s stall. Her riding crop juts out from its spot underneath her arm. “I’ll see you in there, Peter is just finishing up now and then you’re up.” She places her hands on either side of my face, shocking me at the contact.
The touch isn’t gentle or warm, but it never really has been. She squeezes slightly, unblinking as she stares into my eyes, “Failure is not an option, Eleanor. It is a stranger to you and will remain that way.” With that, she releases my face and spins on her heel. The sound of her clipped footsteps punctuates my rapidly increasingly breaths as my anxiety threatens to drown me once more.
? ? ? ? ?
Remi is restless as we approach the indoor arena. The Beach Boys Medley blares over the speakers—the song Peter performs his routine to—and I fist the reigns harder as I lead Remi towards the sound.
I’m so focused on the music, in a conscious effort to avoid heaving the last of my dignity up onto the ground, that I don’t hear the booted footsteps approaching until they’re right behind me. I turn to find Colton a few feet from me, a beaming smile on his face.
“Hey,” He whispers over the music, eyes flicking towards the arena entrance, “Just wanted to wish you luck, not that you need it or anything.”
I try to return his smile, but I’m sure it looks like more of a grimace because he tilts his head and says, “You’ve got nothing to be nervous about. You and this big guy are going to do great,” He pats Remi on the shoulder and earns a low nicker that I believe roughly translates as more pats, now . “Sanya and I will be watching from the entrance, gallery seating is limited apparently.” He shrugs with a smile, “Should’ve preordered my tickets, I heard there’s some hotshot Olympic prospect in town and she’s stirred up quite a crowd.”
Calling it a laugh would be a bit of an overstatement, but a small huff of air escapes my mouth, and I feel my shoulders relax slightly as Colton tries his best to calm me down.
The music in the arena comes to an end, a subdued round of applause echoes through the entrance and my stomach feels like it’s going to crawl its way up my throat.
“I’ll be right out here, so will San.” As if on cue, my friend appears in the distance, jogging across the yard towards us.
She gives me a thumbs up with both hands before panting, “You’re going to kill it.”
I can’t bring myself to speak but I nod to both of them before turning and leading Remi into the arena .
I’m less anxious than I was before they showed up, there’s less tension in my body and I feel like I might actually be able to get through this without throwing up... again.
Peter is dismounting his mare as I round the corner. The applause has died down and the gallery is a hum of hushed conversations. Peter’s mother sits next to my own, and next to her sits a man in his late thirties. He’s wearing a Ralph Lauren polo shirt and thick framed glasses. My throat works as I see him furiously scribbling notes onto a clipboard.
“Try not to fuck this up, won’t you, Eleanor?” Peter whispers with a smirk as he makes his way past me, “There’s always the next Olympics in... four years’ time.” He hisses with a laugh. Anger fizzles at the edges of my anxiety, like the cauterizing of a wound and I grit my teeth to stop myself from calling after him.
Perhaps I will ask Colton to have a word with him after all.
“Let’s go, twinkle toes.” I whisper to Remi before striding into the ring.
The first twenty minutes of our practice session are smooth and uneventful, Remi feels relaxed beneath me and is responding well to all my cues. His passages have improved immensely over the past week, and I wonder if all the trail rides might have something to do with it.
Every time I glance over at the gallery, the scout seems to be watching intently, my mother whispering into his ear as she keeps an eye on my every move.
When Coach approaches and tells me it’s time to run through my routine, my bones turn to jelly, and I manage a weak nod before riding over to our starting letter.
The soundtrack to all my nightmares comes blaring over the speakers, the upbeat violin strokes resembling the pounding of my heart as we begin our routine.
As Remi and I make our way around the ring, I spot Colton and Sanya where they stand at the entrance of the arena. They’re not visible from the gallery, each of them sporting a wide, encouraging smile as I ride past them.
Sanya’s fists are clenched in front of her as she watches, but Colton is the picture of confidence—his arms are crossed against his chest and he’s leaning against the entry way. The smile on his face is strong and silent, and it conveys more than words might be able to.
We’re almost at the end of our routine when Remi’s foot lingers a little too long on one of our pirouettes and throws our timing off. My breath catches in my throat as I try to steady us, desperately counting the beats in my head as he corrects himself.
It was a minor error, but an avoidable one, and I know of at least one person who will have a fair deal to say about it. I’m surprised by how little I let that thought affect me as we end the routine and the music quiets.
The only thing I’m able to feel is the overwhelming relief that comes with the end of the task I was dreading with every fiber of my being.
A cheer echoes across the arena followed by a loud whistle and an enthusiastic round of applause. I jerk my head in the direction of the entrance and find Colton being dragged out of view by a smiling Sanya.
Coach enters the ring, placing a hand on Remi’s sweat-slick neck as he says, “I think you did well, Eleanor. Almost flawless.”
“Almost,” I breathe with a shaky smile before dismounting and heading for the exit. I chance a look into the gallery before leaving, nodding my head as I catch the eye of the scout. He offers me a small smile before scribbling away on his clipboard. My mother offers no such thing, and I avert my eyes from hers to maintain my peace.
Once outside the arena, I allow myself to breathe deeply, giving Remi some much needed pats. I’m thinking of rewarding him with a trail ride when footsteps on gravel catch my attention.
“That was amazing!” Colton says as he and Sanya jog up to us.
I’m not sure if it’s the giddying relief or the effect his earlier words had on me, but I turn and throw my arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.
I know I’ve caught him off guard when he freezes for a split second, but he quickly regains his momentum and wraps his own arms around me .
His shirt smells like cedar and spice as I press my face into it, unashamedly breathing him in as a feeling of weightlessness takes over me.
I feel like I’m floating—wait, I really am floating, my legs dangle in the air as Colton lifts me off the ground in a tight embrace.
“It wasn’t perfect,” I mumble into his shirt as he places me back down on the ground, “I’m just glad it’s over.” Sanya elbows him out of the way and mumbles something about celebratory lunch drinks at the pub.
“Let’s just go for one, you deserve a green juice for all the hard work you’ve been putting in. I just want to celebrate you.” She smiles, tugging on the end of my braid.
“My therapist has been telling me to celebrate small victories...” I concede with a grin. I turn to Colton who’s still smiling down at me, “You’re coming too.” It’s more of a statement than a question.
“Who do you think’s driving?” He swirls Rory’s keys around his index finger with a grin.