"I don't know. Maybe."
"The guy called Remy a faggot and now he's your buddy again?"
"He's not my buddy. He's—it's complicated. We grew up together."
"Right. Kingswell kids. Complicated." There was an edge in his voice that hadn't been there a second ago. Not anger exactly—something closer to jealousy, or the fear underneath it.
"Liam, it's not—"
"No, it's fine. You don't have to explain your friendships to me."
"I'm not explaining my—he sat down and started talking. What was I supposed to do, tell him to fuck off in the middle of a team dinner?"
He looked at me. The edge softening. "No. I know. I just—"
Voices. The restaurant door opening. Tyler's laugh cutting through the night air. Then footsteps—a group of guys spilling out onto the sidewalk, pulling on jackets, someone asking who was heading to the bar.
Liam straightened off the wall. The transformation was instant—the softness gone, his shoulders squaring, his face closing like a shutter. Three seconds from real to performance.
"Better be on time tomorrow morning, Harrington," he said. Loud enough for the guys rounding the corner to hear. "Hale's not going to go easy just because we had a good session."
The words were right. The tone was right. Just two teammates talking about training.
But his eyes—for one second before he turned away—his eyes saidI'm sorry.
He walked off. Joined Tyler and Evan on the sidewalk. Became Liam Moore, Riverside rower, rivalry intact, nothing to see.
I stood in the alley and watched him go.
Twenty-four hours ago he'd kissed me on a covered bridge in a town where nobody knew our names. Now he was performing for three guys on a sidewalk because we could lose everything.
I hated it. The whiplash of it.
I turned and walked toward Kingswell.
***
My dorm room. 11 PM.
I was in my boxers pulling off my button-up shirt when my phone buzzed on the desk.
Probably Liam.
My chest welled up with warmth.
I grabbed my phone. Unknown number.
A photo.
Grainy. Dim. Taken through the glass side door of the Riverside Club into the back hallway.
Two figures. Close. One had his hand on the other's jaw. Their mouths pressed together.
Me and Liam.
Congrats on the time today. You two really do have chemistry.
My first instinct was to delete it. Close the message, lock the phone, put it face-down on the desk and pretend I never saw it.
