The locker room door banged open. Braden's voice, mid-sentence to Collins: "—said the pairs heat is stacked this year, but if we—"
He stopped when he saw us. His eyes moved from Liam to me. Back again. That calculating look.
"Cozy," he said.
"Fuck off, Lockwood," Liam said.
Braden smiled. "Relax, Moore. Just getting my stuff."
He moved to the lockers. Collins followed. The moment—whatever it had almost been—evaporated like the steam.
Liam stood, quickly changed and didn't look at me.
"Tomorrow," he said. Loud enough for Braden to hear. "Try to keep up, Harrington."
"In your dreams, Moore."
He walked out.
I sat there on the bench. Locker room quiet except for Braden rustling through his things and the showers still running for nobody.
My phone buzzed in my bag. I pulled it out.
Ethan
Heard about the Charles. Look at you, big shot.
Then, a second later.
Ethan
And racing with your guy. <3
Something loosened in my chest. The one person in my life that knew the true me, the text felt like relief. The fact that Ethan was texting me at all, after everything, still felt like more than I deserved.
I pocketed the phone.
Three weeks. Every morning. Every stroke.
The hardest part wouldn't be the training.
The hardest part would be standing three feet from him in a room full of people and pretending we weren't a thing.
Chapter 2: Liam
The bridge railing was cold under my hands as I watched the river below me.
"Don't jump!" Tyler yelled from the river path as he walked up towards the bridge with a gang of guys from Riverside.
Some of the other guys chimed in. "Don't do it!" "We love you!"
Tyler was waving his hand—the one he'd fucked up weeks ago at the party fight. Healed now, taped but functional, back in a boat where he belonged. He and three Kingswell guys were in a quad with Remy, and from the way Tyler was bouncing on his toes, the first session had gone well.
They made it up to the bridge.
"Dude." Tyler clapped me on the shoulder. "You and Harrington looked insane out there."
"It was alright."
