Author's Note: It's been such a long time since I've had the chance to update this story. I hope you enjoy, and thank you for all the lovely support you guys have shown me! It is very much appreciated!

Chapter Six:

LOUISA:

Somehow on Saturday I found myself at Granta House, the actual impeccable home of Will Traynor. When he had first told me to meet him at nine o'clock sharp at the house, I was curious as to why exactly a successful person like Will was living at home with his parents.

However, as I came around the bend, I was greeted with what could only be described as a home from the pages of Country Living. In that moment, I could perfectly understand why Will Traynor wouldn't want to live anywhere else. It automatically put my own humble abode to shame. The landscaping was impeccably done – the bushes were pruned, the flowers blooming, and the grass the greenest I've ever seen it. I imagined my own mum would have gushed over all of it – possessing no green thumb herself.

A silver Jaguar was positioned in the front of the house, purring perfectly as it waited to go. Will was already inside the driver's side, drumming the pads of his fingers along the leather steering wheel. Securing eye contact with me, he then nodded towards the passenger's side. I cautiously made my way over, not daring myself to breathe. I watched as Will became more impatient at my slowness, going so far as to roll his eyes and lean over to unlock the door himself.

"Get in. We've already missed the morning races at Longfield, and if you're any slower we'll miss all of them," he said as words of greeting.

I withheld a biting response, and instead slid into the passenger's seat – silently appreciating the smooth buttery leather seat. The car still had that lovely leather smell, and I was tempted to take a big whiff of it but restrained myself. Closing the car door with a clean shut, I then buckled my seatbelt and glanced at Will.

He met my own gaze (which most have been one of awe), and then shrugged his shoulders as he shifted the gear to drive, "It was either this or the Bentley, Clark."

The car ride to Longfield was a mostly silent one, and was only filled by my small talk nervous chatter, and Will's responses which met the minimum word requirement. I learned within the first fifteen minutes of the ride that Will was the kind of guy who was fine with silence – or at least didn't like the kind of painful conversation topics I supplied. When I reached this realization, I sunk into my seat and stared out the car window which displayed a gray sky and plenty of farmland.

Once we had reached the grounds, Will pulled up towards the entrance and turned off the ignition. I looked at him, confused at why we weren't parking in the designated area like everyone else. He just sighed as he looked in the rearview mirror to fix his tie, "Come on, Clark. Time to get out."

I scrambled to follow his lead, and watched wordlessly as he tossed his keys to a young, baby faced valet. I wondered what the valet thought of Will and me – were we an odd pair? Was Will a regular? I remembered my dad's warning that he told Treena and me when we were younger: "A man who bets is a man in debt."

"Yeah, okay, Dad," Treena had replied, slightly guffawing before turning her attention back to the magazine she was reading.

I had stored those words away for some reason, and today they were in the forefront of my mind. Was Will a gambler?

It turned out that my questioned seemed to be answered sooner than I had anticipated. He had led the way to a counter which had a sign with the word "TELLER" hanging above it. The women smiled at us as we approached, "Mr. Traynor, so good to see you again. What will it be?"

My lips parted and I was sure my jaw dropped as I watched Will extract a wad of cash from his navy sport coat. Not even glancing my way he said: "£20,000, to win on #7, Damsel's Distress."

I found my wits and interjected, "£20,000?" I found myself getting dizzy at trying to calculate how much months' worth of groceries that would have supplied my family. I eyed the thick wad of money that laid on the counter. I had never seen so much money in my entire life. Was that what £20,000 pounds really looked like?

Will gave me an easy smile as if this was a common occurrence, "Why, sure. Why not? I trust your judgement, Clark." He then paused, as if he was considering something intently, "Do you think I should bet more?"

I felt instantly sick to my stomach. He was taking my advice?

As if it could get any worse, the teller added her own two cents, "Mr. Traynor is one of our favorite premier badge holders. He's often been quite successful in his bets." She then smiled, practically beaming, "I must say, this is a rather unusually large sum for you today, Mr. Traynor. You're not turning into a regular bridge jumper, are you?"

"Of course not, I'm just very confident in Clark's abilities. She's really quite into horse racing you know," he said, glancing at me with a devilish grin on his lips. He then turned his attention back to the teller, "Anyway – a straight clean bet because Clark said that Damsel's Distress is a winner for sure." Will then stared at me as he continued to speak, "Besides, if I lose than I'm £20,000 poorer and it'll all be on Clark's conscience-"

"I lied, okay!?" I said, hating to admit it but needing to come clean all the same. I repeated myself once I registered that Will and the teller looked absolutely stunned, "I lied about being a horse racing expert. I wasn't even looking at the sports section. I mean, it was open to the sports section, but I didn't even know it. I was zoned out, and then of course you had to bother me and ask me about it." I was waving my arms, flapping them about as if I was some wild bird now, "And don't you dare bet £20,000 pounds on that horse, Will Traynor –"

At this moment he held up his left hand which instantly silenced me. His lips were in a firm, thin line and his facial expression was unreadable. I was sure he was disappointed – angry even. I heard a low whistle from somewhere, I it was then I realized that I had created a scene, and practically shouted so that all nearby the teller could hear my confession. I didn't need a mirror to know my cheeks were flushed. I was utterly mortified, and wanted nothing more than to sink in the Jaguar's car seat and melt like butter.

But then Will smiled – a real, perfect teeth showing smile. And then I realized that not only was he smiling, he was laughing at me. He quickly directed his attention back to the teller, "You heard the woman, let's take that bet down to £20 on Damsel's Distress." He then snuck a glance at me, "My treat, Clark."

I was at a loss for words, fuming.

He handed me the ticket, and I almost dared to refuse it. My pride urged me to let him have it – or at least if I couldn't let him have it (after all, he did give me a job with a steady income), let the ticket have it. I imagined tearing it into shreds, and walking away.

But instead I took it, capturing it between my thumb and forefinger. I admired the glossy printed writing before I sniffed, and pretended to act disinterested. As much as I wanted to throw it back in his face, I reminded myself that if I did win, it would help pay for some of next week's groceries.

"Don't make that facial expression, Clark. When you get that pinched expression it makes you at least five years older," Will said.

I pretended to ignored him, but quickly changed my facial expression to a more neutral one.

As it turned out, I had horrible luck. Damsel's Distress didn't even make it out to the racetrack because it had sprained its ankle half an hour before its scheduled race. It put me in a glum mood, and Will's comment of "Terrible luck. I'm sure it would have beat all the other horses Clark if given the chance." made my spirits sink even lower.

The car ride was filled with heavy silence, but this time around I didn't even mind. In fact, I welcomed it. I couldn't want to return back home, change into my pajamas, brew myself a cup of tea, and wallow in self-pity until the end of time. Either that or gain a concussion that would make me forget all about today's events.

After approximately twenty four minutes of silence, Will broke it: "Come on, Clark. Didn't you at least have an inkling of fun? Yes, Damsel's Distress may not have raced, but we got to see at least three other races. It was a rather good time if you ask me."

"Are you not even going to acknowledge this morning?" I croaked aloud, not realizing how a lump had formed in my throat. I focused on pushing back the tears. Now was not the time to cry, and I certainly wouldn't cry in front of him of all people.

I detected how the corner of his lips quirked ever so slightly upwards, "What about this morning?" he asked, in a leveled and perfectly innocent tone. He turned on his blinker to turn into the long driveway that led to his stupidly perfect house.

His words only infuriated me more, and I clenched my teeth for a moment before replying. I desperately tried to reel my anger in, but his attitude managed to fan the fire within me, "How you practically embarrassed me in front of everyone."

He gave a small laugh, that easy smile gracing his lips again, "It was just some good fun, Clark. A joke. I promise you there was no malice in it. I was only teasing you." He then turned to me, meeting my eyes as we reached his house. "I promise, it was only in good fun." he added as he parked the car, and turned the engine off.

"Teasing me?" I cried out loud, "It was insensitive of you!" I huffed as I scrambled to unbuckle my seatbelt, "You allowed me to make a scene. And not only that, but the worst part is that you laughed it off!" I had managed to open the car door by now, and hurried to get out of the claustrophobic car with its buttery leather seats that I now hated. I leaned down to poke my head in the car door now, "You may have noticed Will, but money isn't a joking matter or a thing that should be treated lightly. And you being willing to throw £20,000 at something as a joke – acting like it isn't anything whether you lose the money or not – it isn't funny. It's irresponsible and careless of you, Will Traynor."

And without even allowing him to get in a word in edgewise, I slammed the car door and started what seemed the very long walk home.

Note: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Horse racing certainly didn't go as we all expected, now did it? It's been such a long time since I've updated this story, and I'm a bit nervous the pair was a bit out of character. But after mulling it over, I believe that Will would still be cocky and confident - like he was in prior to the accident. What do you think? Thoughts? Be so kind as to leave a review? (They certainly motivate me to continue this story, and to keep writing!)