Chapter 281: first match II

Chapter 281: Chapter 281: first match II

The match began with a sharp burst of movement.

The moment the ball was thrown into play, Damian urged his horse forward.

As Player No. 2, he was one of the team’s primary attacking players, supporting the No. 1 while also dropping back when necessary. Anthony, riding at No. 3, operated farther behind him, reading the field and controlling the flow of the game.

The difference between the two positions suited them.

Damian was constantly moving.

Anthony was constantly watching.

And between the two of them, Saint Albion quickly took control.

The first goal came within minutes.

Damian intercepted a pass from the opposing side, carried the ball forward, and sent it cleanly toward their No. 1.

One strike.

The ball went through the goalposts.

The crowd erupted.

Damian turned his horse back toward the center.

Anthony merely lifted his mallet in acknowledgment.

The second goal came soon after.

Then the third.

Their opponents struggled to keep possession long enough to mount a proper attack.

Whenever they managed to break through, Anthony was already there.

He intercepted one attempt.

Then another.

Damian stayed farther forward, constantly looking for the next opening.

It became clear before the first chukka was even over.

Saint Albion’s polo club was simply the stronger team.

--

The first break came quickly.

The players returned to the sidelines while stable hands approached their horses.

The team manager moved down the line, passing bottles of water to the players.

Before she could reach Anthony, however, Evelyn was already there.

She had taken one of the bottles from the manager and held it out to him herself.

"Here."

Anthony accepted it.

"Thank you, Evelyn."

She glanced at his gloves.

"Everything all right?"

"Yes."

She nodded, apparently satisfied.

Damian noticed.

There she goes again.

He said nothing.

He simply took the bottle the manager offered him and drank.

The manager checked the scoreboard.

"Keep the pressure on. We’re comfortably ahead."

Anthony nodded.

"We’ve got it."

The whistle sounded.

They returned to the field.

--

The second chukka was much the same.

The polo club team controlled possession.

Damian repeatedly drove the ball forward, while Anthony positioned himself behind the play, cutting off the opposing team’s attempts to counterattack.

Their opponents managed one goal.

Their team answered with two.

By halftime, the difference was already substantial.

The crowd had begun treating the match less like a contest and more like a demonstration.

Damian could hear the cheers whenever he accelerated down the field.

Anthony received just as much recognition whenever he made another clean interception.

They were playing well.

Very well.

And they knew it.

--

The third chukka passed almost effortlessly.

Damian’s horse responded to every shift in direction.

He carried the ball toward the goal, drew one defender toward him, then passed it across to the No. 1.

The return came almost immediately.

Damian struck.

Goal.

Another roar from the stands.

He barely had time to acknowledge it before turning back.

Anthony was already repositioning the team.

Damian followed.

There was no urgency.

No panic.

They had control.

The opposing team was still fighting, but the outcome was becoming increasingly obvious.

--

By the fourth chukka, their team had built a commanding lead.

Damian’s concentration never wavered.

Neither did Anthony’s.

The final goal came with only a few minutes remaining.

Damian intercepted the ball near midfield and drove forward.

He passed to the No. 1.

The ball was returned.

Damian struck it cleanly.

It rolled between the posts.

The final whistle followed shortly afterward.

The crowd erupted.

The polo club had won decisively.

Damian lowered his mallet and guided his horse back toward the team’s end of the field.

His teammates exchanged congratulations.

"Good game."

"Good game."

Damian dismounted and handed his reins to the waiting stable hand.

He removed his helmet and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

The team manager approached with her clipboard.

"Congratulations."

Anthony nodded.

"Thank you."

She smiled.

"That puts us in a very good position."

One of the players looked toward her.

"What’s our next match?"

"Tomorrow."

She opened her clipboard.

"Our group has four teams. Each team plays the other three once. The top two advance to the quarterfinals."

"And after that?"

"Quarterfinals, semifinals, and the final."

She closed the clipboard.

"So this gives us our first win."

Damian nodded.

There were still two group matches to play, but a strong opening gave them a good advantage.

The manager glanced at the schedule.

"Our next match is tomorrow afternoon."

She looked at the five players.

"Which means we’re done for today."

Damian’s attention sharpened.

Then she added:

"Except for dinner."

His expression fell slightly.

"I’ve already made the reservation. Six o’clock at The Rowe."

One of the players nodded approvingly.

"Nice."

The manager smiled.

"You have until five-thirty to shower and change. We’ll meet here before we leave."

Damian said nothing.

So much for finding Vivienne after the match.

He’d been hoping to see her again.

Perhaps he could still manage something afterward.

The manager glanced around at them.

"Everyone clear?"

The players nodded.

"Good."

They began gathering their equipment.

Anthony picked up his bag.

"Come on."

Damian followed him toward the changing rooms.

--

The locker room was considerably quieter than the field.

The roar of the crowd faded behind the walls as the players began putting away their equipment.

Damian opened his locker.

His phone was inside.

He glanced toward Anthony.

His cousin was removing his gloves several lockers away.

Damian looked at his phone again.

He wanted to send Vivienne a message.

It wasn’t something he did often.

In fact, aside from anything related to their volunteer work, they rarely texted each other.

The previous night, he’d sent her a simple Goodnight.

She had replied with the same.

That had been the extent of their conversation.

Still, he wanted to tell her about the match.

The thought alone brought a small smile to his face.

He wanted to know what she was doing.

Whether she was still at the equestrian grounds.

Whether she had enjoyed the rest of the afternoon.

And, more than anything, he simply wanted to talk to her.

It was a surprisingly pleasant feeling.

He had never really had anyone he wanted to tell these little things to.

Now, after winning a match, his first instinct was to reach for his phone and tell Vivienne.

Damian slipped his phone into his hand.

Anthony picked up his towel.

"I’ll shower first."

Damian nodded.

"Go ahead."

Anthony disappeared toward the showers.

The moment he was out of sight, Damian looked down at his phone.

He opened a new message.

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

He was actually excited to tell her.

He had won.

He wanted her to know.

His fingers moved quickly.

We won. You’ll be glad to know.

He read it once.

Then sent it.

Almost immediately, he started typing again.

I would have asked you to dinner, but our team manager arranged dinner for all of us tonight.

He paused.

That sounded a little too much like an explanation.

But he didn’t delete it.

He wanted her to know that, if he had been free, he would have asked.

A second later, he added:

Maybe I’ll see you later.

He sent that too.

Damian stared at the screen for a moment.

Then he smiled to himself.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this eager to send someone a message.

They weren’t dating, he knew that.

They were friends with benefits.

That was what they had agreed to be.

And yet somehow, after winning a polo match, his first thought had been:

I should tell Vivienne.

He slipped the phone back into his locker, still smiling.

Then he grabbed his towel and headed toward the showers.

And for the rest of the time he was under the water, he couldn’t help wondering whether Vivienne had already replied.

--

Tbc