“Gentlemen,” he said, voice slicing clean through the air, “before we begin, we need to discuss something serious.”
No one moved.
“I’m hearing rumors. Rumors about unsafe behavior on the river.”
My pulse hammered.
“If a Kingswell athlete was seen rowing at a race cadence—without supervision, without sanction, without a launch following—“
He let the silence stretch. It felt like standing in front of a firing squad.
”—that athlete would never row for this university again. Not this season. Not ever.”
My throat closed. Eldridge didn’t look at me and he didn’t need to; it felt like every word was aimed straight at my chest.
“Kingswell Rowing is built on discipline,” he continued. “On composure. If you want to behave like amateurs, transfer to a program that tolerates carelessness. Understood?”
Everyone responded in unison. “Understood.”
Eldridge let the tension settle for another long beat before shifting his clipboard under his arm.
“Now,” he said, voice clipped but even, “we have business to cover. The scrimmage lineups.”
A few guys straightened. Others stiffened. Some pretended not to care, tried to look cool, but they were the most nervous.
Eldridge flipped to a fresh page.
“We’ll begin with the doubles,” he said. “Marcus, you’re paired with Collins. Riverside’s putting Ortiz and Sheffield against you. Expect a high-rate sprint from them.”
Marcus muttered something under his breath that sounded like, “Bring it,” and a couple of other sophomores snickered.
Eldridge didn’t acknowledge it. He continued down the list.
“For the varsity pairs,” he said, “Shaw and Reynolds will take the Kingswell lead. Riverside is sending their captain, Davison, and his stroke partner.”
A ripple went through the room at the mention of Jace Davison—Riverside’s most respected and quietly feared rower. The guy rowed in a U23 National boat last year.
Derek didn’t react, of course.
He nodded once, absorbing the information like he already had a plan forming behind his eyes.
Eldridge kept moving, outlining lineups, names, and lanes with military precision. The more he spoke, the heavier the air felt. Guys shifted in place, feet tapping, jaws clenching.
As Eldridge went down the line, it became clear what everyone expected. Alex and Liam would be racing one-on-one in the varsity single.
Eldridge paused, flipping to the final section of the sheet.
“For the varsity single,” he said, “Harrington will race Moore.”
It hit the room like a dropped oar. Several guys let out quiet whistles.
Someone near the back said, “Not surprised.”
Another voice added, “Rivalry of the season right there.”
And all I could think was…Act surprised.
Derek’s eyes flicked toward me for a heartbeat, steady and unreadable. I raised my eyebrows like I had no idea it was coming, grinned, and nodded my head.
