The other boats were distant. The coaches' launch not directly alongside us. This was as private as we'd get on the water.
"Me too. It's like at the lake."
He felt it too.
My throat went tight. "We're good together."
The words hung in the cold air. Loaded. Could mean rowing. Could mean everything else.
Liam was quiet for three strokes. Then: "Too good."
My chest ached. Because he was right. This was dangerous. People could notice; they were probably already noticing.
But I couldn't make myself care, not when everything felt this right.
We rowed in silence after that. The conversation was over, but something had shifted between us—the wall that was supposed to stay up had cracked, and neither of us had moved to fix it.
"Bring it in," Coach Eldridge's voice carried across the water.
We paddled toward the dock. Other boats were already landing—the teams mixing on the dock with surprising civility. No confrontation. Just rowers doing what rowers did after practice: hauling boats, stretching, talking technique.
My arousal hadn't faded. I'd have to be careful climbing out—keep my body angled away.
We reached the dock. Liam climbed out first. I followed, keeping my movements precise and grabbed the gunwale to help lift the boat.
Our hands were close on the hull, not touching, but close enough that the heat between us was a physical thing.
"You guys looked good out there."
I looked up. Coach Hale stood on the dock, clipboard in hand, watching us with that neutral coach expression that gave nothing away.
Liam tensed beside me. I could feel it without looking.
I forced my face into polite professionalism. "Thank you, sir. Alex Harrington."
"I know who you are." Hale's voice was dry. "Your great-grandfather built that boathouse." He nodded toward the building.
"Yes, sir."
Hale's eyes shifted to Liam. "Moore. That's the best I've seen you row in a double. Ever."
Liam's jaw tightened. "Thanks, Coach."
"Natural pairing," Hale said, looking between us. "Timing locked in fast. You two have history?"
My throat went tight.
History.We did. But nothing Hale would want to hear about.
Liam answered before I could. "Nope."
"Hmm." Hale made a note on his clipboard. "Well, whatever it is, it works."
He walked away to check another boat.
I glanced at Liam. He was staring at the water, jaw clenched.
Our eyes met for half a second. Something passed between us—panic, or the recognition that people were seeing what we couldn't hide.
