Chapter 4 Liam
End of the first week and my body was falling apart.
Not injured—just wrecked. Five days of Hale's intensive sessions on top of regular conditioning, and every muscle fiber in my body had filed a formal complaint.
My hands were torn up—blisters cracked open and re-cracked, taped over with athletic wrap that was already peeling.
My shoulders felt like someone had taken a crowbar to them.
But the rowing was good. The rowing was better than good.
I kept thinking about Charles fast and grinning like an idiot. Then catching myself. Then doing it again.
Friday lunch. The Riverside dining hall was loud and smelled like grease and whatever industrial cleaner they used on the floors. I sat across from Tyler and Evan, shoveling pasta into my mouth because Hale said we needed carbs and I was too tired to argue with anyone about anything.
Tyler was mid-story about Remy's new start sequence for the quad—something about a three-stroke build that Remy had drawn up on a napkin during Tuesday's practice—when I saw her.
Emily.
Across the dining hall. Three tables away. Sitting with two girls I didn't recognize. She was laughing at something one of them said, her curly hair pulled back, wearing that green jacket I'd always liked. She looked good. She looked normal. She looked like someone who'd moved on.
Then she glanced over.
Our eyes met.
The laugh died on her face. Not anger or sadness. Just… shock. I felt it, probably something a little different—electric shame in my body.
She looked away first.
My chest caved in.
"Yo, Liam." Tyler was waving a fork at me. "You hear what I said?"
"What?"
"I said Jace wants a few of us to do this erg workout this weekend."
"Yeah. Cool."
"You good?"
"Fine."
Tyler followed my eye line. Saw Emily. Connected the dots with the subtlety of a sledgehammer.
"Oh. Shit. You guys still broken up?"
"Yeah."
Shit, here we go.
"For real this time? Because last time you said that, you guys were back together in like a week."
"We're not getting back together."
"Why not?" Tyler leaned back, genuinely confused. "She's cool. She's hot. She tutored me through Psych 101 and I'm pretty sure that qualifies her for sainthood."
"It just didn't work out."
"But why though? Did she—"
"Tyler."
"What?"
"Drop it."
He held up his hands. "Alright, alright. Touchy." He shoved pasta into his mouth. Then, because Tyler was physically incapable of leaving anything alone, he said, "Was it the rowing? Because girls hate the early morning shit. My ex said she felt like she was dating someone in the military."
"It wasn't the rowing."
"Then what? You cheat on her or something?"
The word hit me like a fist.
Cheat.
That's exactly what I'd done. Not with another girl, not in a way Tyler would picture. I thought of Alex naked underneath me and swore anyone could have seen the thought. I spat a lie out.
"No," I said. "We just grew apart."
Grew apart. The coward's answer. The lie that sounded mature enough to end the conversation.
Evan looked uncomfortable. Tyler looked unconvinced. But he let it go and started talking about the quad again, and I ate my pasta and didn't look at Emily's table for the rest of lunch.
But I felt her there. The way you feel a bruise even when you're not pressing on it.
***
The Riverside boathouse at 7 PM was a different animal than the morning version. No coaches. No full team. Just the hum of the overhead lights and the smell of old sweat and mildew and the low groan of the river current against the docks outside.
I was on the erg. Solo session. Steady state—2:05 split, rating twenty, the kind of mindless pulling that emptied your head if you let it. The flywheel rattled. The chain moved. My body worked while my brain tried to shut up.
Remy was on the floor between two ergs, laptop on his knees, earbuds hanging around his neck. Reviewing footage again—race prep for the quad, pacing data, the stuff that made Remy the best cox in the program.
An energy drink balanced on the arm of the nearest erg.
We'd been in the same room for twenty minutes without talking. Comfortable. The way it was with Remy—no performance required. He knew about me. Had known before I did, probably. And I knew he knew. And neither of us had ever had to make a thing out of it.
But tonight something was different. The Emily sighting was still sitting in my chest. Tyler's questions echoing. You cheat on her or something?
"Remy."
He looked up. Pulled one earbud fully off.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Depends." He tilted his head. The coxswain stare—reading me. "You going to actually ask this time?"
Mindreader. What the fuck?
"Yeah, I'm actually asking."
He closed his laptop. Set it aside.
I stopped pulling. Let the flywheel wind down. Glanced toward the door—closed. Glanced toward the stairs—empty. The windows along the far wall showed nothing but dark river and the distant glow of Kingswell's boathouse across the water.
Just us.
"What was it like? When you told the team," I asked.
"Told them what?"
"Come on, Remy."
"I need you to say it. Otherwise we're just having another vague conversation and those are useless."
He was right. That was annoying.
"When you told them you were gay," I said. The word felt strange in my mouth, like speaking someone else's language.
"Anticlimactic," he said. "Tyler said 'cool, man' and asked if I wanted to play FIFA. Jace nodded like it wasn't a big deal. Hale already knew."
"Nobody was weird about it?"
"Some guys wouldn't change next to me for a week. That passed." He shrugged. "I kept showing up. Kept being good at what I do. Eventually they got over themselves."
I nodded. Stared at the erg monitor going dark.
"Why are you asking?" Remy said.
"Just curious."
"Right." Remy snorted.
Silence. The river outside. A pipe groaning somewhere in the walls.
"I don't know why I'm asking," I said.
Which was closer to the truth—I hadn't planned this conversation. Hadn't rehearsed it. I'd come here to erg and empty my head and instead my mouth was doing things my brain hadn't approved.
"Yeah you do," Remy said. But he didn't push.
I looked at the door again. Still closed. Still just us.
"Look man, lying takes work," he said. "Physical work. You carry it in your body. I didn't realize how much until I put it down."
You carry it in your body.
My jaw. My shoulders. The way I scanned every room. The constant thinking of who knew what, who was watching, whether my face was doing something it shouldn't.
"Being a gay athlete is—"
"I'm not gay," I said.
It came out fast. Reflexive. Not angry. The way you'd say that's not my name if someone called you the wrong thing.
Remy paused.
"I'm bi."
The word hung in the air.
I couldn't believe I'd said it. Not here, not out loud, not to another person.
Noah had offered me the word months ago in the dining hall and I'd shut him down.
I don't like that word. It just is what it is.
And now it was sitting between me and Remy in the quiet boathouse like I'd set it on the floor between us.
Two letters. One syllable. The biggest thing I'd ever said out loud.
Remy didn't flinch. Didn't make a face. Just took it in.
"My bad. Shouldn't have assumed."
"It's fine."
"Nah. I know better."
We sat there. Something had loosened in my chest. Not dramatic. Not a movie moment. Just a muscle releasing that I didn't know I'd been clenching.
"You good?" Remy asked.
"Yeah." I strapped my feet back in. Grabbed the handle. "Just between us for now?"
"Of course, your business." He nodded and put his earbud back in, then opened his laptop.
Then, without looking up: "You and Harrington are rowing the best boat on this river right now. Don't let the off-the-water shit wreck the on-the-water stuff."
"I won't."
"Good."
He hit play on his footage. I pulled. The flywheel spun up. The chain rattled.
And I rowed for another thirty minutes in the quiet boathouse with the one person on the team I didn't have to lie to, and it felt like the first full breath I'd taken all week.
***
Dorm room. Late. Noah was at the library—debate prep session that would probably go until midnight, because Noah treated preparation like a competitive sport.
I lay in bed. Clean from the shower. Muscles aching. Phone in my hand and horny.
The problem with rowing with Alex every morning was that I barely got to see him.
He was always behind me in the boat. But it was the moments off the water that killed me.
Alex climbing out of the boat, shirt soaked through, the fabric clinging to his chest. Alex on the dock stretching his quads, one hand on the railing, head tipped back.
Alex in the locker room pulling his shirt over his head—just a flash before I made myself look away, but enough. The shoulders. The stomach. That strip of skin above his waistband.
My dick twitched at the thought of him.
And tonight, standing in the shower with the hot water running over my shoulders, I'd thought about what it would be like if he was in there with me.
The steam. The tile. His back against the wall and the water between us.
His hands on my hips. My mouth on his neck.
The sounds he'd make with my dick in his mouth.
I needed him.
Liam
Come over.
A moment later the three dots appeared.
Alex
Hey. I would but it's 11 on a Thursday.
Liam
I know what day it is.
Alex
We have practice and I have an 8 AM lecture.
Liam
It will be fine.
Alex
Liam.
Liam
I haven't seen you. Not really. Not since Sunday.
Alex
You see me every morning.
Liam
You know what I mean.
Alex
I know. But I need to sleep. We've been up so late every night.
Liam
One hour.
Alex
Liam.
Liam
Thirty minutes.
Alex
If I come over we both know it won't be thirty minutes.
My pulse kicked up. I typed before thinking.
Liam
Would that be so bad?
Alex
It would be the opposite of bad.
Liam
Then come over.
Alex
I can't. Not tonight.
I stared at the ceiling and pictured him in his dorm across the river—lights off, phone glowing against the pillow, that perfectly made bed he was already under. Alone. Same as me. Two miles of dark water and brick and bridge between us when there should have been nothing.
Liam
Then tell me what you'd do if you were here.
A long pause. The dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
Alex
That's dangerous.
Liam
I like dangerous.
Alex
I'd kiss you first. Slow. The way we don't get to when we're rushing.
Liam
And then?
Alex
Then your neck. That spot below your ear that makes you grab my hair.
My hand tightened on the phone.
Liam
Keep going.
Alex
I'd take my time. Kiss down your chest and lick your nipples.
Liam
Alex.
Alex
Then lower. Over your jeans. Just my hand. Slow. Feeling how hard you are.
I was hard. Already. Just from words on a screen.
Liam
Fuck.
Alex
I'd take my time with the zipper. Make you wait for it. You're always rushing.
Liam
I don't want to slow down.
Alex
I know. That's why it's fun.
Liam
You're killing me.
Alex
Good.
I was breathing harder. Staring at the screen. The room felt ten degrees warmer.
Liam
Keep going.
Alex
I have to sleep.
Liam
You can't stop there.
Alex
I can and I am.
Liam
Alex.
Alex
Goodnight, Liam.
Liam
That's evil.
Alex
That's self-preservation. One of us has to have it.
I stared at the ceiling. Hard. Uncomfortable. Wanting him so badly my skin hurt.
Liam
Fine. See you tomorrow.
Alex
Tomorrow.
Liam
We need to figure out how to actually see each other. Not just on the water.
Alex
I know. We will.
Liam
Promise?
Alex
Promise.
I put the phone on my chest. The screen went dark.
Five days of careful. Five days of performance. Five days of being three feet apart in public and a million miles apart.
Something had to give.
I just didn't know it would be tomorrow.