And then it was just me. The empty bay and the river outside, barely visible through the mist.
I heard him before I saw him.
Footsteps on the gravel path. The creak of the bay door. Then his voice, low, almost careful—like he'd checked that the room was empty before he said it.
"Hey."
Liam.
He stood in the doorframe with his gear bag over one shoulder and his sculling gloves in his other hand. Dark hair pushed back, still damp. He must have run here—his cheeks were flushed, his breathing slightly elevated, and he smelled like cold air and soap.
No one behind him. The Riverside guys weren't here yet. Just Liam, ten minutes early, which meant he'd left campus before anyone else was awake.
He'd come early on purpose.
"Hey," I said.
He stepped inside and his eyes moved over my face. Searching. Not the guarded scan from across a crowded boathouse—this was the way he'd looked at me yesterday morning. His real self, the part of him I was just getting to know.
"You sleep?" he asked.
"Not much."
"Me neither." He dropped his bag by the erg row. Took a step closer. "Kept thinking about—" He stopped. Ran his hand through his hair. "Yesterday. Your room. All of it."
Something unlocked in my chest. A pressure valve releasing. Because I'd been holding my breath since he'd walked out of my dorm twenty-four hours ago, and hearing him say it—hearing that he'd been replaying it too, that it wasn't just me lying awake staring at the ceiling—made the ground feel solid under my feet for the first time all morning.
"Me too," I said.
He stepped closer, close enough that I could feel the heat of him.
"It's going to be hard," he said.
"Oh yeah?" I raise my eyebrow teasing.
He smirked. "Well that too but…Three weeks. Every morning. In front of everyone."
"I know."
He looked at me, serious for a moment, then he started to smile.
"Did you set your intention for the day?" he asked.
I tilted my head. "What?"
"Good morning. Take a deep breath and set your intention for the day." Liam mocked in a horrible English accent.
It actually made me laugh, loud enough that it echoed off the high ceiling of the empty bay. I clamped my mouth shut but it was too late. The sound hung in the air between us like evidence.
"That was the worst accent of all time," I said.
"She helps mecenter," Liam said, pitching his voice high.
We were smiling. Both of us. The kind of small, private smile that only existed when there was no audience—no teammates, no coaches, no Eldridge watching from his glass office. Just two people who'd spent the night together and couldn't stop thinking about it.
Our eyes locked and something warm spread in my chest.
Liam's hand twitched at his side.
