Chapter 18 Alex
The Riverside Club looked different when it was filled with people who mattered.
Donors in expensive suits. Alumni who'd rowed decades ago and still talked about it like it was yesterday. Both teams dressed up, playing nice, pretending the rivalry was just healthy competition.
I stood near the bar in my tailored navy suit—Tom Ford, because my father believed first impressions were non-negotiable. White shirt. No tie, because this was supposed to be "business casual" even though half the room looked ready for a board meeting.
My father was across the room with a cluster of major donors. His hands moved in that practiced way—probably telling the story about my great-grandfather building the original boathouse. The Harrington legacy.
Everything I was supposed to uphold. Everything I'd told him no about less than forty-eight hours ago.
The exposed brick walls were lined with black-and-white photos of past crews.
Tables scattered through the space, the bar stocked and staffed, the small stage where Ethan had set up the projector for presentations.
The room hummed with the specific energy of money—quiet confidence, careful laughter, the kind of conversation where every sentence was calibrated.
This was supposed to be my victory. The event I'd organized. Proof I could deliver.
But all I felt was hollow.
"Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention."
Eldridge's voice cut through the chatter. The room quieted.
"First, I want to thank everyone for being here tonight. This joint program wouldn't be possible without your support." He gestured to the crowd. "And I especially want to recognize two people who made this evening happen—Ethan Reeves and Alex Harrington, who coordinated every detail."
Polite applause.
I forced a smile. Nodded acknowledgment.
Ethan caught my eye from across the room. A small smile. We did it.
Something loosened in my chest. Just slightly. The memory of the diner still warm—pancakes, terrible coffee, the first honest conversation we'd had in months. Not fixed. But less broken.
"Tomorrow morning," Eldridge continued, "we have the Northeast Regional Invitational. You'll see some incredible rowing. These athletes have been training together, pushing each other, and I think you're going to be impressed by what this program has accomplished."
More applause.
My chest went tight again.
Tomorrow. Me and Liam in a boat in front of everyone.
After Thursday's scrimmage—the way the shell had lifted beneath us, the way our bodies had moved in synchronization so perfect it felt like one nervous system.
The way he'd called me golden boy before that power ten and I'd felt it in every nerve.
I pushed the thought away. Focus. Get through tonight.
The doors opened.
And there he was.
Liam walked in wearing a dark grey suit that fit him better than it should have—probably borrowed, but he wore it like he owned the room. Shoulders back. Confident. The scholarship kid who looked like he'd been born for places like this even though he'd been told his whole life he hadn't.
Emily on his arm.
My stomach dropped.
She looked beautiful. Blue dress that made her eyes brighter. Hair down in soft waves. Smiling up at him like he was the only person in the room.
And Liam looked like he'd rather be anywhere else.
The tension in his shoulders. The set of his jaw. The careful smile he gave Emily that didn't reach his eyes. The performance of ease that anyone else would have believed.
But I wasn't anyone else.
They moved through the crowd together. Emily's hand tucked into the crook of his elbow. Introducing him to people. Playing the perfect girlfriend or whatever they were.
And Liam was playing along.
"Alex." My father appeared at my elbow. "The Winthrop Foundation director is here. I need you to make a good impression."
"Of course."
I followed him across the room. Shook hands. Smiled. Made small talk about rowing and legacy and the future of the program.
All while tracking Liam and Emily in my peripheral vision.
They were with the Riverside contingent now. Tyler clapping Liam's back. Jace making Emily laugh.
Liam's eyes found mine across the room.
For half a second, everything else disappeared. Just him and me and the memory of Thursday's scrimmage. The way the boat had flown. The way we'd stood in the boathouse doorway afterward and almost said everything we couldn't say.
Then Emily touched his arm. Said something, and Liam's attention snapped back to her.
The moment shattered.
I turned back to the director, and forced myself to focus on whatever he was saying about alumni engagement.
Ten minutes. I made it through another ten minutes before the room felt like it was shrinking.
"Excuse me. I need to check on the catering."
I walked away before my father could object and headed toward the back hallway. Away from the crowd. Away from the sight of Liam with his arm around Emily's waist.
The hallway was quieter. Cooler. Exposed brick, no decoration—the working bones of the building. The air tasted different back here. Damp stone and old wood instead of cologne and money. I leaned against the wall and tried to breathe.
Tomorrow I had to get in a boat with him. Row in front of everyone. Pretend I didn't know what his body felt like moving with mine. Pretend I hadn't sat across from Ethan in our booth four days ago and said the words out loud for the first time in my life.
I'm gay.
And felt relief instead of destruction.
Pretend I could keep doing this.
Footsteps.
"Alex."
Liam's voice.
Fuck.
"Go back to your girlfriend," I said without turning around.
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because you're here."
I turned.
He was standing ten feet away. Jacket off. Sleeves rolled up. Tie loosened. Looking at me with an expression that demolished every wall I'd try to build to get through this weekend.
"Don't do this," I said.
"Do what?"
"Look at me like that. Follow me out here." My voice was tight and my composure holding by a thread. "Act like the last two weeks didn't happen."
"Alex, I said we should deal with this after the weekend."
"You say it like I'm some sort of problem. I can't do this anymore… not with her at your side."
"I'm trying to do the right thing—"
"The right thing." I almost laughed. "Is that what we're calling sleeping with me and Emily ate the same time?"
"What do you want me to say, Alex?"
"I want you to stop lying. To her. To yourself. To me."
"I'm not—"
"Yes, you are." I moved closer. "You're lying every time you touch her. Every time you introduce her as your girlfriend. Every time you pretend what's between us doesn't exist."
"We can't—"
"Can't what? Be honest?" I was in his space now. Close enough to see his chest rising and falling. Close enough to smell him. "You think I didn't feel you in that boat Thursday? Didn't hear it in your voice when you called that power ten?"
His face flushed. "Alex—"
"You want me," I said. Rough and raw, no performance left. "Just admit it. For once in your life, be honest."
"Of course I want you!" The words exploded out of him—louder than either of us expected, echoing off the brick walls of the hallway. "You think this is easy? Watching you. Being near you. Knowing I can't—" He stopped. Breathing hard. "Knowing I can't have you."
"You could have me." My voice cracked. "Right now. If you just chose—"
"Chose what? Coming out? Risking everything?"
"Yes!"
"Easy for you to say. Standing here in your Tom Ford suit. Your father working the room. You get to play the perfect Harrington kid while you tell me to blow up my life?"
The words landed like a fist to the sternum.
"At least I came out," I said. Voice tight. "At least I told someone the truth."
Liam's expression shifted. "What?"
"Ethan. This week." I held his gaze. "I told him I'm gay."
Silence.
Something moved behind Liam's eyes—surprise, or relief, something I couldn't fully read.
"I said it out loud," I continued. My voice was shaking. "For the first time in my life. And it didn't destroy me. It didn't end everything. I'm still standing here."
"Alex—"
"So don't tell me I'm not risking anything.
" I was close enough now to feel his heat.
Close enough that if either of us moved an inch, we'd be touching.
"Don't tell me I'm playing it safe when you're the one who brought your girlfriend to a team event because you're too scared to face what you actually want. "
"And what do I want?" Barely above a whisper.
"Me." The word came out broken. "You want me. You've wanted wanted me. Since we rowed that double and you said it felt like flying. Since we hooked up in my dorm and you couldn't stop looking at me like I was something you'd been starving for."
"Stop."
"Why? Because it's true?"
"Because I can't." His voice cracked open. "Choosing you means coming out to my team. To Coach Hale. To my mom. It means everyone knowing. It means risking my scholarship, my future—everything I've worked for."
"I know."
"And for what?" Tears were bright in his eyes now. "For a guy who walked away from me once already?"
The accusation hung between us like something with weight.
"I apologized for that," I said. Quiet now. "I told you I regretted it. That I've thought about you every day since."
"And nothing changed." His eyes were too bright. "You're still here. I'm still there. We're still on opposite sides of a river we can't cross."
"We crossed it Thursday."
"That was rowing."
"Was it? Because it felt like everything we've been pretending doesn't exist."
"Alex—"
"What do you actually want?" I demanded. "Not what's safe. Not what makes sense. What do you want?"
His breathing was ragged. "I want—"
I didn't let him finish.
Fuck this.
I kissed him.
Pouring everything I couldn't say into the press of my mouth against his—every conversation we'd avoided, every loaded silence, every night I'd spent staring at my ceiling wanting something I'd told myself I couldn't have.