Inga | Third Year | 10:47 | M: Crew, Jensen

“I don’t mind. Really,” Jensen Eliopoulos had one leg crossed over the other, a neutral yet rigid and unfriendly look on his face. “He’s just a horse. We’ve got plenty more at home.” Then, with impatience that simply did not match his unyielding demeanor, Jensen moved to rise out of the chair. “May I go now?”

Inga studied him with a sharp gaze, wondering what it had taken to get to this point in the young man’s life. He clearly cared more about leaving the meeting than he did about his own horse, one Inga knew from extensive research and experience had won a plethora of awards under a multitude of top talent. “You can’t be serious,” she insisted, her icy gaze looking him over for any sign of a crack in his facade. “Surely he’s more than just a horse to you?”

Her blue gaze followed his to the headmaster, Jensen clearly looking for some sort of interference to utilize as a barrier between himself and the question, and Inga looking to see if he cared enough about the horsemanship of his students to allow an answer or press for one of his own. His silence remained somewhere in between them, not allowing her pervasive question to be shut down, but not forcing an answer out of him either. Before either could come, the American stepped through the door and into the grand office of the headmaster, looking more disheveled and unprepared for this meeting than he had at the party the evening prior.

“Look at you,” she allowed her gaze to trail over his body in a way that emphasized judgment. “It’s almost as if I didn’t warn you that this was coming yesterday, is it not?”

“Okay,” Jensen allowed his hands to fall to his knees. “I’m leaving now. Headmaster,” he nodded to the man, exiting the room as the interaction occurred between the two blonds. The young woman’s gaze followed him in a way that was supposed to intimidate him as he crossed the room, taking the seat across from her. She continued to study every detail of his misshapen appearance from his unstyled hair to his unpolished boots, not missing details such as the dark circles under his eyes and a much paler complexion than he typically wore.

“Rough night?”

“Miss Lundström," the headmaster warned. “Let’s get back on topic, shall we?” He turned to face Crew, watching the young man with a similar gaze to the one the young rider held. “There are some claims that you had something to do with the party that got out of hand last night, Mister Sinclair. I thought I’d give you a chance to defend yourself before I delegate out the consequences of both of your actions. The more honest you are, the better this will go for you. Both of you. I know you’re good students and I’m surprised to hear about this incident.”

Despite both of their repeated protests, the headmaster seemed set in his decision after hearing from Crew and continuing to listen to Inga’s complaints that she had nothing to do with anything other than not getting down to the barn in time to prevent the other riders from allowing the gelding to escape. After hearing the pair of them bicker like children, he decided that instead of assigning them more chores and taking their riding time away, he would be forcing both of them to share responsibility for the roles they already had. Inga would be sharing Crew’s role of team captain of the higher show jumping team, and Crew would be sharing Inga’s role of event committee head until the pair could successfully work together. Although this only led them to fight more, they were soon thrown out of his office.

“I’d like for you both to aid in the search for the missing horse, still,” the headmaster said as they were sent out.

“Good, more time for us to ‘demonstrate disrespect for one another in a way that is inappropriate for this school,’” Inga shot back, mocking the headmaster’s words. Then, submitting to his authority, she added, “yes, headmaster,” meekly as the pair exited the room, left only with themselves, each other, and the tension that lingered from their argument and the consequences that followed.

Inga listened to him as he groveled, waiting for her to simply acquiesce to his wishes regarding staying out of his business if he stayed out of hers. While on one hand she wouldn’t have minded at all if he wanted to stay as far away from her as possible until the two of them graduated, and then if he went on to go to the opposite end of the world as her for as long as possible, she wasn’t stupid enough to miss that this awful and laborious task of being in the same vicinity as Crew Sinclair was a blessing in disguise. She would never have been picked as co-captain for the show jumping team in any other circumstance. She was a good rider, one who had easily been picked as the dressage team captain, but had only been show jumping for a handful of years at this point. On the other hand, Crew was surely being scouted by the American team due to his status here, and being his co-captain could get her recognized as a rising star of Sweden–one who could have so many more opportunities presented to her if she could tolerate his nauseating personality for a few short months–or continue to aggravate him so that the headmaster would consider extending her commitment to a second semester.

“I’ll consider your offer and get back to you,” she stated plainly, completely unemotional and in direct contrast to the emotional episode that Crew had displayed just moments prior. Then, without another sentence, she began to make even, measured strides toward the door, calling over her shoulder for him. “I’ll make one thing very clear, I’ll be the one driving the ATV.”

…

Their pursuit through the woods was filled with mostly silence as Inga wasn’t willing to make small talk and the loud mechanical sounds of the vehicle drowned out any words or thoughts either might have had. Inga only looked back once to see that the blond had a death grip on the back of the vehicle, holding on for dear life as if it were her sole intention to kill him as opposed to doing what was asked of her. In fairness, she’d had the same concern about him, which is why she’d claimed the role of driver. In addition, she was one of the few riders who knew where the keys were, so she’d been at an advantage from the start. After no more than an hour of driving the perimeter, they spotted him just within the treeline near a cross country course on the opposite end of the campus. Luckily for everyone involved, he was too much of a herd animal to stray any farther, and he seemed perfectly fine with no scratches or noticeable injuries. They were able to call someone to come and get him soon after, and both made it back in time to attend their next class.

Unwilling to be seen with Crew, which was likely a major shock to someone who always had throngs of women accompanying him everywhere, Inga put the vehicle away and waited for him to be preoccupied with something else so that she could exit freely without being noticed. With the crowd that surrounded him, she wasn’t entirely sure that he would have noticed her anyway, and that was fine by her.

Although they were in the same class, it was a large, auditorium-style class, and held the majority of the students that were graduating from the academy in the spring. Inga typically sat in the very back of the class at the highest point, in the corner furthest away from the door. She didn’t like being called on enough to sit in the front, the middle was too mediocre and difficult to enter or exit, and the back corner allowed her to sit with a maximum of one person beside her, which was good enough for her. She tried her hardest not to draw attention to herself here outside of her academic and athletic performance. She knew that people like Crew were put on a pedestal and that the drama that surrounded them was often a hindrance to their success, especially when they didn’t have the Sinclair name to back them.

Just as she was beginning to believe that the blond was going to skip class, her gaze found him in the massive auditorium as he entered. With any luck, he’d never realized that they had this class together, and he wouldn’t do everything in his power to annoy her. It had never mattered before to her or to him where the other was, but Inga had a suspicion that the fact that she owed him something–something big–would create a higher awareness of her in his mind. Despite the answer that she owed him, the blonde would drag it out for as long as possible, making him suffer as much as possible for as long as she could. Perhaps she’d even make him follow up with her, considering the fact that she’d not given him her phone number, he had no way of contacting her easily, and she didn’t intend to make that possible for him until well after she’d been taken up as his co-captain, if ever.

Inga | Third Year | 13:15 | M: Crew, Jensen, Will

Before she knew it, Inga’s last first class at St. Katt’s was over. Because the school featured a mix of academic and athletic classes, half of her day was spent in the school’s formal academic uniform, and half was spent in whatever team gear she’d been provided at the start of the year. It was, of course, a less strict dress code on the first day of class, seeing as everyone’s clothing was still being distributed–especially those who had to begin the semester late for whatever reason. Inga was not one of these people, however, and had come back to find her gear for the year laid out on her bed upon her arrival the day prior. She’d taken great care to iron it and wear the assigned clothing on the first day in order to be a role model to the new students, as she knew the staff were expecting. While she wasn’t as famous as some of the other students, she’d gained a prominent reputation among staff and faculty as an exemplary student, rider, and mentor. She was not about to lose that now, with recommendations and connections being so necessary so soon.

As soon as the class ended, the blonde pushed her way past the other students in her row, including a sleeping blond she knew so well. She’d spent some of the class watching him in her peripheral vision, not closely enough to catch the attention of his dumb friends, but enough to allow her internal monologue to comment on all of his inadequacies as she could see them there. He was still wearing clothes that were not up to code–although they were approved for that week, and that week only–he was sleeping through class, and he’d not even cared so much as to put a comb through his hair. How she was about to allow someone like that to be in charge of anything relating to a job as detail-oriented as event planning, she had no idea, but it was somehow something that she was not only doing, but doing willingly. Allowing him to do that meant she didn’t even have to try out for a place on the varsity team, it’d be guaranteed. Which was good, considering the fact that joining Crew’s clique was a matter of status, and she’d not done anything to suck up to anyone during her time here–she was simply too independent to even attempt such a thing.

Brushing past him coldly, Inga made her way across the lawn toward her dorm. When she arrived, she changed from her academic uniform into a pair of navy breeches, a white riding shirt, and the school belt and socks. She slipped into her riding boots and made her way down to the barn to the advanced showjumping section, which she’d been moved up to after her unparalleled success in the intermediate class in the past year, which left her unsuitable to stay there a second year. Beyond the riding teams, the instructors held general classes for each of the disciplines to tweak riders’ skills within school format, opting to work with the riders in small groups during this time to give them more attention. Unfortunately for her, these classes were in alphabetical order, and that meant that she and Crew made up half of their small group of four in the show jumping section.

Arriving to the gelding barn to fetch Odin, the blonde weaved around several riders she recognized as members of Crew’s team. Jensen Eliopoulos, who she’d spent more time than she would have liked with that morning, and William Blue, the son of two of Team GB’s greatest riders, who’d retired to Germany to start a massive training and breeding operation. Despite this, their son always seemed to Inga to be massively unintelligent in all the ways that counted, and especially in the way that he wore all of his emotions outwardly instead of keeping them inside. While she navigated easily around Jensen, someone she was embarrassed to say she’d once had a massive crush on, Will was taking up half of the aisle with his antics.

After tacking up Odin in the academy’s team colors, Inga brought him out in a mix of the gear they’d recently received and the tack she’d brought from home. She was unsurprised to be the first one in the arena their group had been assigned, which gave her time to stretch her horse’s legs and walk him around on foot before mounting. She carried out this maneuver easily with no one to share the arena with, and she soon got to work moving the large horse through a series of flatwork patterns. As she worked through these, the other riders began to join, warming their horses up as well. Once their group was called, they would be asked to move from the flat arena into the larger show jumping arena which the academy utilized for shows and larger practices. A full show jumping course was placed in this arena, complete with several new purchases the returning horses had never seen before. They would have thirty minutes in the arena with the trainer to jump around and discuss improvements, and then they would be sent back to the flat arena and the next group would come.

Inga checked her watch after she’d successfully flatted Odin, feeling the young horse’s preparedness to go in and jump. While the fences were higher than they’d been last year, Inga knew that fear had no place if success was the priority. She slowed Odin to a walk, allowing him to cool out while Will and Jensen’s group finished their training session in the large arena. As she walked, she studied the riding in their group, which was another section at their level. While Inga knew that she would have to improve and work even harder to be successful at this new level, she felt up to the challenge, and generally prepared to defend herself in an arena that she knew would be difficult if Crew had anything to do with it.

Inga | Third Year | 13:33 | M: Crew

Inga hadn’t even remembered that the jumping team had been the one to petition for the new arena until the irritating voice of the blond ricocheted off the metal bleachers and the late summer air, bringing her from her natural state of peace and solitude back into the reality of co-existing with him. A pang of anger flashed within her as she recalled the events she’d tried so hard to forget. She’d done all of the community organizing to pitch a new dressage arena for her team, which had only come back into popularity since she’d arrived at the farm, and she’d been the one to pitch the idea to the school. Instead, when an anonymous rider went behind her back and used their influence to sway the idea toward something that benefitted the show jumpers, the staff and faculty forgot all about the initial idea and all the work she’d put into it. That rider was seeming less anonymous by the minute.

As she waited for their actual, St. Katt’s appointed staff member to call her name to go in and jump, she rolled her eyes at Crew’s need to make everything about him and his lust for power. She was the only one of the three in their small group who had withheld any thoughts and opinions she had up until this point, but it grew too difficult to bite her tongue for the sake of peace. Someone had to stand up to him, and no one else seemed to be volunteering.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she began, looking him dead in the eye. “I didn’t realize the show jumping team captain title came with a delusion of grandeur. Did your imaginary whistle tell you it’s your turn to play coach already? Last I checked, no one has to listen to you talk until three.”

Not long after this, Inga’s name was called by the coach in the arena, and she walked Odin out of the warmup arena on a loose rein, gathering him up as she walked him past a few of the more colorful and eye-grabbing materials such as neon boxes and massive standards that were built like columns with items hanging off of them. She flexed her feet in the stirrups, moving him from a very dressage-like free walk into a collected, powerful stride, allowing him to see everything while the coach told her a warm up pattern that consisted of two jumps and several flat patterns. One of her successful attempts at changing the university’s beliefs on things was to integrate more flatwork into the show jumping training sessions and into the general curriculum of non-dressage rides. While she’d initially done it for the good of the riders, she was now feeling smug about the fact that it likely also made Crew’s day a bit worse, seeing as he had no desire to affiliate with dressage or with anything that was not jumping.

As the coach had requested, Inga began to pick up a smooth sitting trot that stood out from the other riders, many of which only practiced their flatwork as an obligation before the things they truly enjoyed. She cut across the diagonal and slowed to a halt when she reached the top of the arena, picking up a counter-canter easily as she moved Odin forward, performing a flawless flying change as she reached the end of the long side. She rode a powerful, forward canter toward a diagonal single that was placed dead in the center of a combination that boxed the jump in, making Odin feel trapped and causing her to lose a bit of momentum. They chipped the first jump but made it over, landing on the same lead and moving forward into an extended canter for the number of strides requested before bringing him back in, collecting him, and sitting back as she rode confidently up to the next jump, a quarterline single on the opposite end. She managed to get a perfect distance to this jump seeing as there was nothing distracting about the stone pillars and white poles, so she easily managed to make it over this one, halt again, and then walk.

After receiving her critique from the coach on the warmup, Inga went back and completed the course, which went about as well. While she exceeded in performing the flat tasks, not every jump was perfect. And nothing less than perfect was good enough for where she needed to be in order to keep her reputation up on the team. Still, with the incorporation of flat tasks, she felt fairly confident that she would do better than Crew in terms of feedback and general performance, seeing as jumping well was only half of the equation.

As she exited the arena, patting Odin and allowing him to free walk once more, she passed Crew, whose name had been called after hers. As she passed him, she spoke in a volume that only he could hear. “Try not to trip over your own ego in there,” she warned, following it up with, “I’ll see you at tryouts in an hour, co-captain.”

Inga | Third Year | 20:53 | M: Crew, Jensen, Will

After the practice and the tryouts that followed, the hours passed quickly and soon Inga was back where she’d been the day prior, running another day of show jumping tryouts with Crew before rushing off to her own, which she actually had a say in. Unlike the show jumping tryouts, the dressage tryouts were something that she had total control over, which was only aided by the junior mentor she and the others on the team panel had decided to elect at the end of the last semester. Their junior mentor had an exemplary work ethic which was only outshined by the massive crush he seemed to have on Inga if his complacency was any indication. He’d agreed with every decision she made thus far, and seemed more interested in what her plans were for dinner that evening than in which riders she did or did not decide to welcome to the team. This was a stark contrast to her experience on the show jumping team, where she was met with glares and tense silence by everyone she dealt with, including Crew. Unfortunately for him, she had no issue with the silence, and only voiced her opinion when she felt he was operating out of a personal bias. Which, also unfortunately for him, was quite often.

Wednesday morning and afternoon came and went with nice, sunny weather that included a breeze that continued to increase in intensity as time passed. A storm was expected in the evening, which Inga had not only known about but planned for. Now that tryouts had finally concluded, Inga had spent the afternoon with her co-leader discussing the final decisions for the team before they would present them at dinner, followed by the respective team celebrations that marked the establishment of the teams for the year. Unlike Crew, who she’d neither communicated with nor desired to discuss anything with beyond what was required, she’d had the forethought to reserve the grand hall for their celebration due to the weather. She and the co-leader, Malthe, had spent the better part of the afternoon preparing for a classy, formal event that would surely impress, while Inga was convinced that Crew and his show jumping squad would end up drunk and passed out on the lawn somewhere. Which, other than making the formal appearance with him at dinner, was not her responsibility, and even further so with the news that she wasn’t scheduled to manage either of the barns that evening.

While the school uniforms were mandatory dress code for all meals at the academy, Inga had left Malthe to finish the final few tasks on their to-do list and gotten back to her dorm in time to do her hair and makeup in a way that exceeded what she typically did. While she normally wore no makeup and kept her hair straight, she took a few minutes to crimp her hair and add a touch of makeup, not enough to draw significant attention but enough that she drew attention in a way that she typically did not. Her roommate had not yet arrived to the academy from France due to a last minute change in plans, so Inga had the space all to herself.

Arriving to the dinner, Inga said nothing to Crew prior to the announcement of the headmaster that the speeches would begin. Although she paid attention when the announcement was given, she spent the majority of dinner ignoring the incessant nattering of Malthe, who’d been seated beside her, which primarily consisted of pleasantries and nervous small talk that she didn’t care for. Her icy gaze wandered across the room to the table that Crew was seated at, an empty seat beside him which she knew was reserved for her. Once or twice his gaze wandered in her direction as well, although he was primarily distracted by the women throwing themselves at him and his own ill-fated attempts to be discreet in his interest in what was occurring at her table. By the time the show jumping team leaders were called, Inga quietly excused herself and joined Crew at the top of the platform, standing beside him and allowing him to perform the speech he’d prepared. Once they were seated, they once again moved wordlessly, although their strides were even, hasty, and irritatingly synchronized. It wasn’t long before she returned to the stage with Malthe, a true gentleman who put excessive effort into assisting her up the stairs, and the pair took turns offering their congratulations and reading off the names of the riders they would be adding to their teams. Before they knew it, the dinner was over, and they were excused to their parties as anticipated.

Inga, as usual, was one of the few young women at the academy who prioritized efficiency and practicality over status and beauty, so despite the minimal effort she’d put into her appearance, she did not change out of her academy uniform like everyone else did before proceeding to the grand hall for their formal dinner. Malthe followed suit, although he left once he knew that Inga had everything covered, and returned not long after in a collared shirt with a few buttons undone, more than the blonde would have preferred. The party went off without a hitch for quite a while until the booming bass of party music could be heard getting closer and closer to the hall. At some point, it got too loud to hear Inga’s speech to the new and returning students, and her information session was brought to a close prematurely with the entrance of a fairly large group of students, all reeking of alcohol and whatever else had been distributed elsewhere. Horror washed over her ever-poised visage as she followed the path of destruction directly back to Crew, whose blond hair was even messier than it had been at the last party he’d partaken in, and who had somehow lost his shirt in the chaos of his function–if he’d even gone with one at all.

After several unsuccessful efforts to separate the two parties and remove the unwanted guests before they destroyed any more of her perfect outing, Inga’s betrayed gaze followed Crew as he slipped through the door they’d come in, leaving Malthe to attempt what she had failed to accomplish. Taking off after him in heated strides, Inga began to call after him in a tone that was somehow controlled yet filled with emotion.

“What the hell, Crew? I understand being upset at the situation we’re in, but that doesn’t give you the right to ruin my event just because it’s better than yours. Is that it? Do you feel threatened by me? Are you jealous because all you know how to do is create chaos around you that not even you know how to control?”

Now close enough to him to be within grabbing distance, and still not getting the response she felt she deserved, nor the apology she knew she wouldn’t get, she followed up with a meek, “answer me,” and reached out to shove him, only met by a strong grip across both of her wrists–now held in the firm grasp of his palms–and a closeness to him that she had not desired, nor expected. It was dark in the grass where they’d ended up, but a distant source of light from an adjacent sidewalk lit up the bright hue of his eyes. There was an intensity about them as they were glued to hers, their bodies connected not only by touch but by the heavy breathing shared in the limited space between them, and yet a profound emotion she could not quite describe as sadness nor emptiness was the feature that captivated her the most. There was something about him that everyone else seemed oblivious to, something that made her feel like the only person around him with eyes to see the real him. Paralyzed not only by the way he’d pinned her in place but by the confusing tension between them, Inga stood inches apart from him in a stunned silence for several seconds. After a brief moment, her eyes flickered down to his lips briefly, wondering what exactly he was thinking in that bewildering and complex mind of his before breaking her hands away with more force than she needed, surprised by the way he’d been so stunned that he’d naturally relaxed his hands at the slightest pressure.

Taking one step closer to him to close the gap between them again, she studied his expression with an unreadable stoicism in her own. Easily, and in an unforgiving tone, she studied his eyes for one more moment before saying, “it’s tragic that no one else sees how empty you really are,” immediately turning on her heel and taking off across the lawn once more to get both of their parties under control without him. Although she had no intention of staying at either party, she had the strength to do what leaders do: lead by example, something she wasn’t sure he’d ever done in the extensive history of his leadership at this academy. Despite this, as she walked, she couldn’t help but rub her wrists, feeling the ghost of his touch and the quiet intensity of the strength that had pulled her in moments prior.