Chapter 14: Alex
Evening practice left my entire body humming—not in the clean, satisfying way it usually did after a long row, but in a sharp, restless buzz that wouldn’t settle no matter how many meters I logged.
Honestly, I was shocked I’d even made it through the second session.
After what happened this morning with Eldridge reading every slip in my technique, the disaster in the showers, the panic that followed me all the way back to my room... I’d half expected to feel too strung-out to function.
Eldridge didn’t give me room to spiral—not tonight.
It was the most brutal workout I’d ever experienced before a scrimmage. Usually, we’d take a night off or a day off before a race. But Eldridge was on some kind of insane mission to squash the idea that Riverside could even be called a rival.
He ran us through long, punishing technical pieces in pairs, and even though he didn’t say it outright, everyone knew who he was really watching.
Me.
I didn’t have any hard evidence, but sometimes it felt like my father ran the program more than the coaches.
Anyway, by the time we carried the boats back into the boathouse, my legs were shaking, my forearms buzzing, my lungs scraped raw. But none of that calmed the thing underneath. The anticipation, the dread, the way tomorrow’s scrimmage pressed against my ribs like something sharp.
I just wanted it to be over. And at the same time, I didn’t want it to happen at all.
Ethan fell into step beside me as I walked along the river walk that eventually led to a bridge that crossed to the other side of the river—the Riverside State side.
He walked like he always did after practice—relaxed, shoulders loose, breathing steady—because he only had to document the brutality.
“You’re quiet tonight,” he said, adjusting the strap of his camera bag across his shoulder.
I huffed out an exhale. “Ethan, I’m exhausted.”
Ethan gave me a sideways look. “I know. I’m just worried that this scrimmage is eating you alive.”
He was right, that was only half of it.
We cut across the green toward a cluster of dorms, the early autumn air brushing cool across the back of my neck. Students drifted along the pathways in scattered pairs and small groups, laughing, heading to late dinners or study sessions.
“It is eating me alive,” I said.
“Don’t stress it. You’re going to do great. Plus, you’ll get to see your man out on the river tomorrow.”
“My man?”
Ethan laughed. “I’m messing with you.”
He had no idea... or maybe he knew everything. If we had lived in another age, I think Ethan would have been a mind-reading wizard.
I shook my head and kicked an acorn that had fallen in the path. “There’s just so much pressure to perform.”
“Look, man... you’ve been dialed in since preseason. Almost too dialed in. Eldridge said something to you after practice, didn’t he?”
“Just told me to rest up, said everyone’s going to be assessed tomorrow.”
“Alex.” Ethan slowed. “You don’t have to be perfect, you know. It’s only the first week.”
My jaw tightened. “I wish it were true.”
He studied me for a beat, the crease between his brows deepening. “If something’s up, you can tell me. I’m not going to make it weird.”
I wanted to say something about my dad, about how he already knew the lineups before Eldridge even confirmed them. Marcus understood, but I didn’t think Ethan would ever get it. He was just part of a different world than we were, and that was fine.
