Chapter 8
JETT
A WEEK LATER
I’m in a great mood and it’s no wonder; I haven’t seen or heard from my liar of an ex since the day I caught him cheating. Maybe my luck is finally shifting for the better.
Then again…
Ethan’s texted me every day this week with silly jokes, complaints about his buzz cut, and pics of him at hockey practice that I didn’t ask for.
I should block him, but I don’t. His persistence is distracting, and not in a bad way.
Even though I know I should delete every message and photo from him, I don’t do that either.
My hand itches to reply, but I hold back.
As though I’m afraid that if I give in, I’m going to fall down a rabbit hole I can’t get out of.
The situation is made worse by the fact I’ve been thinking about Ethan not as the guy who antagonizes me, but as a guy I’m curious about.
There, I said it. I have to remind myself ten times a day that my curiosity can go fuck itself.
I’m not interested in Ethan. He’s straight and he sure as fuck’s not flirting with me, he’s playing some kind of game.
My phone buzzes with a reminder, and when I check the time, I realize I’m cutting it close for practice today. I jog across campus at a fast clip, down to the lake, and make a beeline for the storage sheds. It’s a near-perfect day for rowing on Lake Kinnear—sunny, low winds, and cool temps.
As I get closer to the dock, I notice the rest of my teammates are already hauling our shell toward the water.
I also notice that our coach, Linwood Ridley, is on the phone and swearing up a storm.
Lin’s from the UK, and at twenty-six, he’s also the youngest coach at the college level.
His record speaks for itself; he’s won numerous medals at national and international rowing events, and we’re damn grateful to work with him.
“Someone broke into one of the boatsheds last night,” Hudson announces when he spots me.
“What?”
“Yeah. Lin’s on the phone with the police. Thankfully, most of the shells are untouched, but they sure made a mess.”
I glance at Okto, our beloved boat, and breathe a sigh of immense relief. Replacing a shell can be a pain in the ass, not to mention as expensive as a car. Not only that, but it can also take a while to break in a new one, and for competitive racers, there’s nothing worse than an unfamiliar boat.
“Why would someone break in to the shed?” I reply. “It’s not like it’s easy to steal a two-hundred-pound boat with no motor.”
“Probably teenagers on a dare,” Archie offers. “Or someone with a fetish for life vests.”
I walk around and sure enough, the first shed is fine but the second one has a broken window.
There’s gear all over the floor, like someone pulled everything off the shelves and made a mess of it.
Some life vests are missing, as well as other small pieces of equipment.
For what? There’s nothing of value in here. Not unless you’re into water sports.
I head back to the first shed, and everything in here is untouched. But again, this is where we house the boats and they aren’t easy to steal. Dropping off my backpack, I stalk back to the dock.
“Like you said, it was probably teenagers pulling a prank,” I offer to Hudson, and then help my teammates set Okto down on a rack.
First up, inspection duty. We check the inside of the shell, the oars, and the oarlocks. Thankfully, it’s all good to go. Once we set him in the water and we take our positions, it’s time for final adjustments, including the foot stretchers and our seats.
An eight-crew boat means it takes a lot of time to get things right, but it’s necessary.
Each member has their strengths, and when I say rowing is a team effort, it’s a fact. When one rower is off, there’s a domino effect and everyone struggles. When all of us are in sync, however, it’s a heady, incredible feat.
Kai sits in the bow seat, number one, and is responsible for balancing and steering, like Jackson, who sits number two.
Hudson and Archie are numbers three and four, the engine or powerhouse rowers, along with August and Wyatt, seated five and six.
Iggy is seven, and I’m eight, the stern pair, and we set the pace and the rhythm for the team.
For me, it’s even harder since I’m the last one, and I can’t see anyone behind me.
And sitting at the end of the stern is Felix, who, as the coxswain, gets in his position with his mic on, facing the rest of us.
He provides direction for the crew and helps us steer.
As we push off the dock, I settle into my seat and enjoy the view.
There’s a mist rising from the water, and the quiet chirp of birdsong in the air.
We’re alone out here at this early hour, and I love it.
The serene peacefulness that settles into me when I’m rowing is something that never gets old.
I thrive out here on the water, in the country air, and I can’t even imagine how anyone survives city life.
Small town Sutton suits me fine. It may not be the ranch back home, but it’s close enough.
Lin reappears at the dock, breaking my musings.
“Morning, gents,” he calls out. “Now that the drama on land is under control and security is on the way, it’s time to get to work. Ten minute warm-up and then we’re running drills. Let’s go.”
He hops into his motorboat, and starts it up, the familiar hum of the engine signaling it’s time for us to get moving.
Our blades catch the water, and we’re off.
We go at a slow clip to start. Our bodies need time to adjust, and we also take it easy to make sure there’s no issues with the shell.
Once we’re moving smoothly, and all the kinks have been worked out, Lin puts us through our paces. Our coach doesn’t hold back. With every stroke, I’m sweating hard despite the cool air, and I can feel the burn in my thighs and between my shoulder blades.
When we reach our final destination, it’s time to pause for a quick break. Lin offers more feedback, and we’re back at it, running drill after drill.
The wind whips up when we head back in the direction of the dock, and things get challenging.
Being a rower means we’re all gluttons for punishment, and the more Lin critiques us, the harder we work.
I’m so caught up in pushing myself to the max that I don’t notice anything in my periphery. That’s what our coxswain is for.
“Is that the fastest you can go?” a familiar voice yells out.
My rhythm falters, and Felix is the first to notice. Shit.
“Hold water,” Felix calls out.
We square our oars to slow down.
“Let it run.”
We pull the oars out of the water and start to float.
It’s only then that I glance starboard, to find Ethan standing on the dock staring at us, sunglasses on, his cocky grin in place.
He’s dressed in black jeans and a Cougars T-shirt, and yes, he’s rocking the buzz cut.
My face heats, but then again, I’ve been pushing hard this morning, and I’m sure I’m not the only one.
I’m too out of breath to reply to him, so I shake my head and hope that’s enough.
“I hope you have a very good reason for interrupting my team,” Lin calls back, a bite of irritation in his voice. “Whoever you are.”
“Ethan,” he replies confidently and waves at our coach, oblivious to Lin’s glare. “Nice to meet you. Sorry, I thought you guys were done. I need to talk to Jett, and I figured this was the best place to get his attention.”
The oar slips from my grip, and Felix shoots me a questioning look.
What the hell is Ethan playing at?
To make matter worse, Ethan lets out a low whistle. I watch as he slowly takes off his sunglasses. Even from a distance, I get a shock from meeting his gaze.
“Sugar, I gotta say, you look fine as fuck out there.”
I give him a middle finger and ignore the laughter that’s coming from my crew, including my coach. I turn to look over my shoulder at my teammates and raise one eyebrow.
“Really? Don’t encourage him.”
We paddle over to the dock, but instead of feeling calm and content like I normally do after a practice, I’m so jacked up I’m ready to race the entire length of the lake again.
My lycra bodysuit, which consists of a thin tank and racing shorts, is drenched with sweat, and while that’s not unusual, I’m suddenly aware of the fact that it’s like I’m wearing nothing at all.
The shorts have extra support, but we don’t wear cups, and for the first time in my rowing history, I’m feeling kind of exposed.
Probably because my blood is racing faster than my pace, and most of it is now running south.
We get Okto secured, and by the time I hit the dock, I’m all but shaking and still panting. Ethan, of course, hasn’t stopped staring at me, and I feel like I’m under that weird spotlight again. I’m pretty sure that if I started running right now, Ethan would chase me.
“What are you doing here?” I snarl at him.
Ethan bites his lower lip, and his eyes slowly track over me.
I swear he doesn’t miss an inch, and I struggle to stay still.
My first thought is straight guys don’t do that.
The second is why the fuck do I like it so much?
Then I remember that he’s messing with me.
I don’t care that he can see the outline of my cock in this outfit, I’m not going to feel awkward on my own turf.
And I don’t know what the fuck he’s trying to prove with this stunt, but I’m not having it.
“Well?” I insist, running a wet hand through my damp hair.
“Do you—” Ethan coughs and clears his throat. “Do you always wear that outfit?”
“Ethan.”
“It’s very… it’s like you’re almost—” Ethan stumbles over his words and it’s so unlike him that I’m fighting a smile.
I won’t be charmed. I won’t be charmed…
“It’s tight.”
My face is on fire.
“It’s supposed to be. And you didn’t answer my question. Why are you here?”
“I wanted to see you.”
What the fuck does he mean by that?
“Why? We’re not friends,” I snap. “We’re not anything.”
“Ouch.” Ethan holds a hand to his chest. “Sugar, you wound me.”
My crew are now lined up on the dock listening to every word of this conversation. Lin too.
“Don’t you have a puck to chase?” I reply.
“You’re a hockey player?” Lin comments.
Ethan nods.
“Ethan Walker. I play for the Cougars.”
He offers his hand to Lin, but my coach ignores it.
“Then you should know better than to interrupt an athlete during practice.”
“Apologies, Mr…?”
“Linwood Ridley.”
“Mr. Ridley, I assure you it won’t happen again,” Ethan replies with a wide smile, one that makes the dimple in his right cheek pop.
The smile that probably gets him whatever he wants.
Lin makes a humming sound and gives Ethan a narrowed look.
“Why don’t I believe you?” Lin mutters as he shakes his head and walks past us.
My teammates follow Lin, but not before I get a few curious looks as they go by. I’m for sure gonna get razzed later.
Ethan steps up to me and my pulse thrums hard. I’d take a step back except I don’t want to fall off the dock—or maybe a dunk in the cold lake is exactly what I need right now.
“He seems like a hard-ass,” Ethan comments.
“Lin’s the best at what he does. And he’s right.”
“Like I said, I thought you were finished.”
“Sure.”
“What’s with the security guys?” Ethan asks as he points over his shoulder.
Only then do I notice campus security staked out at the sheds. There’s also a police vehicle on site.
“We had a break-in last night at the boatsheds,” I explain. “Our eight-man shell wasn’t damaged, but a couple of life vests and other equipment are missing. Nothing major, it’s just a mess.”
“Video surveillance?”
“I assume so, but I’m not sure,” I reply and cross my arms. “Back to my original question. What are you doing here, Ethan?”
“It’s about NCAC. I’ve looked over the schedule and it seems you and I will be heading up the Welcome Day games. We need to come up with a plan to break the ice and get the competitive juices flowing.”
That sounds legit, and I have no reason not to believe him. And yet…
“And you couldn’t have said all that in a text? Like the many you’ve sent me all week?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Is that your favorite word?”
“I’m a science major; I need to know all the answers.”
Ethan licks his lips, and my gaze tracks the movement before I can help myself.
“I work better face-to-face,” Ethan explains.
I look up and lock eyes with him. I don’t think he’s bullshitting me, but he’s not telling the whole truth either.
“I can get easily distracted when I’m texting,” he continues.
“Okay.”
“I have ADHD,” he adds. “Even with meds, sometimes it’s difficult for me to focus and plan.”
Oh.
“Alright.” I nod. “But how did you know where I’d be?”
“Jackson. I was hanging out with him and Dane last night.”
Ah.
“Are you always up this early?”
Ethan nods. “Workouts, hockey practice, you name it, I’m busy. I save sleeping in for the weekends.”
I was about to say “a man after my own heart,” but thankfully I keep my big mouth shut.
“Also, Dane thinks that us working together will make for a great welcome event.”
Of course he does. Now I can’t possibly say no.
“How about we meet up in the library in an hour?” I offer.
“How about we go now?”
“I’ll meet you in an hour,” I reiterate.
I try to move, but Ethan’s blocking my way.
“Do you mind?”
He smirks.
“How about I walk you back to your room and wait for you?”
“That’s not necessary.”
Ethan bites his lower lip.
“We can talk along the way.”
Maybe then we won’t even need to go to the library.
“Fine.”
Ethan finally relents and motions for me to walk ahead of him.
As I pass, I get the hint of his scent, vanilla and cinnamon, and fuck, he smells entirely edible.
It nearly distracts me from the fact that I can feel his eyes locked on my ass.
Frustrated, I run a hand down my face and then grip my neck tight.
“Wait,” he mutters.
I turn to face him, and he gives me another long once-over that’s making me question, well, everything.
“What is it? I need to get changed.”
“Why?” Ethan smirks. “Throw a long T-shirt on and you’re good to go.”
“I’m sweaty, and I need out of these shorts. I don’t usually wear them walking around campus.”
“Thank fuck for that. You’d cause all kinds of accidents, what with people staring at your—”
“Ethan.”
“Sugar.”
I give him my middle finger, but instead of being offended, his smile deepens.
Trouble doesn’t even begin to describe what I’m in for.