Chapter 17 Orion #2
The light in Ezra Wolfe’s eyes dimmed for a moment. He caught my sympathetic glance and scowled. “Well?”
“I…don’t know how I feel about it. It’s what she needs right now.”
Wolfe sighed. “My God, man. Is there anything on this earth that you’re passionate about? That frustrates you? That enrages you, or that fills you with ecstasy?”
I struggled for an answer that wasn’t betraying my parents over my frustration—and hurt—that they left me to cope with my ADHD alone, but Wolfe flapped both hands at me.
“Don’t strain yourself. It’s clear we have a lot of work to do. But go. Get to your little boat. God forbid there be any empty trophy space in these hallowed halls. Come back next week, and we’ll get to work digging something—anything—out of that lockbox you call a heart.”
I nearly told him to bugger off, that this was all unorthodox and completely out of bounds. (Not to mention, there was the small matter of my handwriting.) I found myself nodding instead.
“Fine,” I said. “Next week.”
***
Looks like a storm is brewing, I texted Harper the next morning. The Narraganset Bay Regatta was only hours away. Is your “Orion Mercer is the greatest (and sexiest) 2 Seat in all the Land” sign waterproof?
She texted back. Sign? For what? Is something happening today I should know about?
I grinned. I’ll capsize the shell from sheer heartbreak if my woman isn’t there to cheer me on. Even if no one is allowed to know she’s my woman.
The rolling dots of Harper’s reply came and went, came and went. Finally:
“Your woman” again…
My bird? My babe? My doll?
My sign is ready, she texted. “Orion Mercer is a butthead.”
I laughed. I gotta run. Coach will have my nuts if I’m late.
I’m so glad you feel comfortable sharing that with me. Break a leg. An arm?
Both. See you soon. Xo
More rolling dots then, <3
That warm, nervy feeling came back, and I heaved a breath.
This is a good thing. The best thing. Don’t fuck it up.
At CHA’s parking lot, on the way to the docks, I fell into step with Xander Ford. We clasped hands, and I nodded at the turbulent waters bearded in whitecaps on the Bay.
“Should make for interesting races, eh?” I said. “But hey, check out the crowd.”
From this distance, the bleachers were full of colorful blobs—our fans and those from around New England, there to cheer on their team, each represented by a banner in their school colors. Our own black and gold dominated, and a huge sign had been strung up that read LET’S GO LIONS!
Xander nodded absently, likely nerves. His first regatta with the Academy. I chucked him on the shoulder. “Let’s give ’em a bloody good show.”
And we did just that.
Our nemesis, New Haven Prep—who’d whipped our arses last year—narrowly gave us what-for a second time. But Xander Ford turned out to be our secret weapon.
Out on the water, in our black-and-gold unisuits, our coxswain, Dean, shouted at us through his headset. His face was twisted in a snarl, not at all the happy fellow we were used to.
“Come on, fucking pull! Let’s go, wind it up!”
We pulled like bastards to Xander’s stroke seat pace.
He rowed as if he had a personal beef with the entire state of Connecticut.
Our shell and New Haven’s were neck and neck for a bit on the choppy water, and the sky looked as if it were going to break open and smite us.
But somehow, we pulled ahead and crossed the finish line by a meter.
Cheers erupted from the stands, and a different kind of joy found me because I knew one of those voices was specifically for me, even if no one else did.
My hands were curved into claws, stiff from gripping my oar, and my chest was on fire from sucking in cold air as I slumped in happy exhaustion.
Kai Thornton, three seat, turned around to share in the win, while Rhett Calloway, behind me at bow, scowled.
Stroke seat had been his until Coach Daniels had switched him and Xander.
“Come on, Rhett,” I said with a tired laugh. “We won no matter where you plant your arse.”
He muttered darkly under his breath, and I shivered as we climbed out into the waist-deep water.
Friends and family greeted the crew as we came ashore, girlfriends kissing my mates. I scanned the crowd for Harper and found her hugging Dean, then Xander. Her gaze found mine, and she gave me a private smile. Xander was eyeing Emery; Dean seemed to be looking for someone else…
Bloody hell, are we all playing different versions of the same messed-up game?
My thoughts were cut off by Elowen Blake hurling herself at me so violently, I was nearly thrown off balance. She planted a lingering kiss on my cheek.
“Congratulations! That was amazing!”
“Fuck’s sake, Elowen,” I seethed, wrenching myself away from her. “Are you out of your mind?”
She glanced around, chagrined. “I was just trying to congratulate you…”
“Then just say that,” I snapped, searching the crowd for Harper, but of all the faces, none were hers.
Elowen glared at me, her cheeks aflame. “You know what, Orion? Fuck you. You’re an asshole. I’m done.”
She stormed off through the crowd, blond hair flying, straight to Aria and Rhett to tattle on me. I brushed it off, hoping Harper hadn’t seen that, and headed for the clubhouse for a postmortem with Coach.
“Gentlemen, you did good. Your time was impressive, given those conditions, and you should be proud of yourselves.” He clapped his hands. “Okay, let’s go celebrate!”
The locker room erupted into cheers. Tonight, the fancy country club was hosting its annual Regatta Gala, which was sure to be even more epic, thanks to our win. I found Xander and Dean together and slung my arms around them both.
“Bloody hell, Ford. I nearly put out my shoulder trying to match your pace. Good on ya, mate.” I gave Dean a jostle. “And Yearwood, no one’s a better coxy than you.”
“Agreed,” Xander said solemnly.
“Nah,” Dean said. “You did all the hard work. All I had to do was sit and yell at you. Oh, and steer the boat, but that’s not important.”
“I hear the Castle Hill Country Club is going all out for this party,” I said. “You’re both coming, yeah?”
Dean beamed. “Is pi an irrational number? That would be a yes.”
I laughed. “Dorks, the lot of you.”
“I’m not going,” Xander said.
“You have to come,” I said. “It wouldn’t be the same without you.”
“I’ll think about it,” he mumbled.
“That’s the spirit!” I said, and went out, but honestly, I wasn’t feeling it either.
Normally, I’d have been overjoyed at the idea of celebrating the win and the guaranteed pleasure of female company that night.
But if Harper wasn’t coming, I’d have to fly solo and be on my best behavior, all while missing her.
So this is what being responsible feels like. Bollocks.
I headed back to Atlas Hall. Overhead, thunder rumbled as a massive storm prepared to break on top of me. I’d just keyed into my apartment when my phone rang with Harper’s number.
I’m in the doghouse already. Damn you, Elowen.
“Hey, Bennett,” I said.
“Wow,” she answered. “Someone sounds awfully guilty.”
“You saw that, eh?” I said, grinning with relief at her teasing tone. I threw myself on my couch and kicked my feet up. “How much trouble am I in?”
“All of it,” Harper said. “You’re in all the trouble. So much, in fact…I was thinking about coming to the country club party. To keep an eye on you, of course.”
I sat up. “Really? You want to come? But just a few days ago—”
“I know, but…” Harper sounded shy again.
“I’ve been thinking about it all weekend, and how I used to not give a shit what people thought about me.
I hate how self-conscious I’ve become, and you’re nothing to be self-conscious about.
It sucked today, not being able to congratulate you on your win.
You were amazing, and you deserve to be celebrated. ”
“Listen to you. So much romance, I can’t take it.”
“Shut it, Mercer,” she said. “And lest you think I only changed my mind and became a possessive, stage-five clinger thanks to Elowen Blake’s little performance, I’ve been thinking about this for a while. I even bought a dress. So…yeah. I’d like to go. With you. If you’re cool with that.”
My grin widened. “I don’t know, I kind of like the idea of you being possessive of me, Bennett. Will you make a scene and claw Elowen’s eyes out for touching your man?”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“Wait, wait.” I laughed. “I want you to come. More than anything. Should I pick you up?”
“No, I have to wait for Dash to get home. His teacher, Mrs. Andolina? She’s driving him from school since I was at the regatta and Mom’s at work. As soon as she gets home, I can go. I’ll meet you there.”
“Sounds good. I’m glad you’re coming. And if anyone gives you shit—”
“I know, I know. You’ll tell them off, beat them up, caveman sounds, manly bluster, yadda yadda.”
I laughed. “Exactly.”
“See you soon.”
“Can’t wait.”
I ended the call and rested the phone my chest, onto my “lockbox” of a heart that didn’t feel as bolted shut and sunk in the depths at all. It was closer to the surface than it had ever been.
I smiled then jumped, as outside my window, a bolt of lightning tore open the sky, and the rain came down.