Alex
Today was good, Liam. The rowing. The way it felt. I just wanted you to know that.
I read it twice… just Alex telling me something real, sweet.
Liam
It was. Good work.Tomorrow?
Alex
Tomorrow.
Liam
Goodnight, golden boy.
Alex
Goodnight Liam.
I put the phone under my pillow. Rolled onto my side. The room was dark and quiet and Noah's breathing was steady and my body ached from the best row of my life.
For the first time all day, the knot in my chest was loose.
I closed my eyes.
And for once, I didn't think about Emily or Braden or the $147 in my account or the three weeks of lying that stretched ahead of us. Or the Econ paper due Friday that I hadn't started.
I fell asleep smiling.
Chapter 3: Alex
Four hours of sleep. Third day in a row.
The texting was becoming a problem. Not the content—the content was the best part of my day. The problem was that Liam and I had no concept of time after midnight. Every night the same pattern:I should sleep. So sleep. You first.And then neither of us did.
But on the water, none of it mattered. Four hours or eight—my body knew what to do when the blade hit the surface. Catch, drive, finish, recovery. The rhythm erasing everything except the boat and the person in it with me.
Wednesday morning's session was our best yet.
Hale had us running a full 5K simulation, it was race distance, race pace, the whole course mapped onto the river with bridge markers and turn points flagged by buoys he'd set before dawn. Three miles of sustained effort, rating at twenty-eight, no rest, no recovery, no breaks.
The way it would feel on the Charles.
By the halfway mark, the boat was singing. By the three-thousand-meter flag, we were locked in so tight that every strokefelt like a single motion—not two people rowing, just the boat moving. And by the time we crossed Hale's finish marker, my lungs were on fire and my legs were shaking and I couldn't feel my hands on the oar handle.
Hale pulled the launch alongside us. He was quiet for a long moment, checking his stopwatch.
"Seventeen forty-two. For a training piece in November on flat water, that's fast. That's Charles fast."
He motored away before either of us could respond.
For three seconds, neither of us moved. Just floating. The boat gliding on its own momentum. Our breathing ragged and synchronized.
Then Liam looked back at me from the stroke seat. Not the careful, guarded glance he gave me in the boathouse. A real look. Eyes wide. Mouth open. The grin building before he could stop it.
"Did he just—"
