Emily shoved me upright as she scrambled to pull her shirt back down. “Maya! I texted you!”
“You saidmaybedon’t come back!“ Maya said. “Maybe! Not definitely! Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I’m leaving, I’m leaving—“
She backed out so fast she hit the doorframe with her shoulder, muttered something like “kill me later,” and vanished.
Silence fell.
“Awkward,” I said.
Emily looked away. “I’m... really sorry.”
I grabbed her face and pulled it back to mine. “It’s fine... It happens.”
She tried to laugh it off, but the spark from before had dimmed. It wasn’t her fault, but the moment was gone. The shift was too sharp, too jarring.
My brain was already sliding back into the tight coil of worry I’d spent the entire dinner trying to outrun.
“Do you... wanna still—“
“Nah, I should head back. Early practice anyway.”
She nodded, trying to hide her disappointment. “Okay. Yeah. That makes sense.”
I stood and forced an easy smile. She walked me to the door and I grabbed her face and kissed her.
“I really appreciate you, Em. Thanks for celebrating tonight.”
Her eyes dropped to the floor and she smiled.
“We’ll find time. Don’t worry.” I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her close.
She looked up at me with that twinkle in her eyes. “Good night, Liam.”
I walked out of the building feeling warm, confused, guilty, and more wound up than before. So much for relieving stress.
The walk back to my dorm was quiet. Campus had settled into that late-night stillness—just the hum of streetlights and the distant sound of someone’s music leaking through a window. I kept my hands shoved in my pockets, replaying the night in my head.
Emily’s laugh. Her hands on me. The way it all felt good but not quite… Alex.
By the time I reached my building, my chest felt tight again. I shut my dorm door behind me and the silence hit like a wave.
Noah’s bed was empty.
Good.
The last thing I needed was an audience for the mess inside my head. I just needed to be alone. The night was nice, but there was so much going on that it was hard for me to relax.
I sat on my bed, still feeling the leftover heat from Emily’s room. Her hands on me, her breath on my neck, the way my body had reacted to her. I wanted her, she was hot, but there was a quality missing. Something I felt with Alex. Maybe it was just because he was a guy. Maybe I liked guys more.
I pulled out my phone. The first thing on my feed was a Kingswell Crew post—a video of Alex rowing a single. I clicked before I could stop myself. There he was. In the boat. Powerful. Clean. In control.
The camera zoomed in on his shoulders, the strain in his back, the way he drove through each stroke. Heat flooded through me and a hard, insistent pulse low in my gut that made my cock twitch in my jeans.
“Shit...”
I should’ve turned it off. Should’ve scrolled past. Instead my thumb moved on its own, tapping his username.
@alex_harrington
