Getting the Perfect Distance [ Bellarke AU ]

Vodka and Champagne

Clarke automatically flicked the lead out of Mist's way as the mare stepped over to a tastier section of grass. But most of her attention was elsewhere. She was grazing Mist on a patch of lawn between the main barn and the large outdoor jumping arena, giving her the perfect view of Bellamy's ride on Jaha's horse.

Bellamy Blake, the asshole of all assholes.

Clarke told herself that she wasn't curious, that she wasn't the least bit interested in the dark haired, dark eyed boy. It was the day after their little incident in the tack room and she was still totally ticked off. Sure most girls found him incredibly cute, hot even, but Clarke wasn't like most Phoenix girls. He was a complete jerk. He wasn't going to scare her off from being friends with his sister.

Clarke wasn't the type of girl to be bullied, especially by him.

Thelonious Jaha was perched on the ring fence, watching every move the horse and rider made. He wasn't necessarily instructing Bellamy, but he kept a close eye on him, wanting to see just how well he could ride.

Clarke didn't know the details. All she knew was that Bellamy was going to be exercising and schooling Jaha's horses for a while. He hired him to work for Phoenix Farms, not to give Bellamy lessons. Jaha was probably just watching to make sure he could actually ride a horse properly and not like a complete cowboy.

"Nice," he called as Bellamy and a flighty Thoroughbred finished a line of two jumps. "Take him around and try again. This time, do it in five strides instead of four."

Clarke didn't recognize the dark bay. He was probably one of Jaha's latest imports. From what she could tell, the gelding was completely high strung and wild. No wonder Jaha put Bellamy on. The horse was nearly uncontrollable, taking the bit in his mouth and racing down the line.

Bellamy, however, didn't once appear fazed. He was smiling like an idiot.

Clarke didn't get to see the rest of the course. Just as they picked up a canter again, she heard a flurry of high-pitched barking from the direction of the barn. A fuzzy, champagne colored ball of fur came streaking out, aiming straight at Mist.

"Chanel, no!" Clarke exclaimed, quickly taking up the slack in the lead line in case the mare spooked. "Shoo."

The dog, a dark eyed Pomeranian with a collar studded with Swarovski crystals, actually stopped and stared at her. That gave its owner, a blandly pretty brunette, time to hurry out of the barn and scoop her up into her arms.

"Naughty girl," Harper cooed into her dog's ears, hugging her so tightly that she squirmed with annoyance. "Mommy told you not to run away!"

Clarke wanted to shake her, even though Mist never once looked up from grazing. It could've been worse - much worse. Dogs here were supposed to be kept on leashes. Harper and her vicious little dog thought they were the exception to that rule.

"So what's going on there?" Harper asked, turning to stare at the ring. "Oh. My. God. Is that Bellamy Blake?"

Clarke was tempted to let out an exasperated sigh.

"Yeah," she said, keeping an eye on Chanel as Mist continued to eat. "Jaha's watching him ride that new Thoroughbred from Ireland."

"I still don't understand why Jaha would hire someone from that dump." Harper set her dog down as she started wiggling harder. The Pomeranian spotted a barn cat and took off after it, yapping at the top of her lungs.

Clarke could see Harper's lip curling and nose crinkling at the thought of Walden Farms having a connection to Phoenix Farms. Harper's parents had clawed their way into the privileged class in Washington D.C. on the healthy profits of their busy insurance company. As a result, she thought that anyone who couldn't afford a Devoucoux saddle wasn't worth her time.