Teagan
Things had gone from bad to worse to shit.
Goose shit, if you want specifics. Hundreds of rancid globs of it that would take ages to clean off the dock and, more to the point, was giving her waaaay too much thinking time. And she really didn’t want to think about how the last few days had landed her here.
“Hey, dock wench!”
Shudder.
Liam, the lecherous crypto boy Juliet had warned her about, swanned up all kitted out in rowing gear that he wrongly thought made him a prospect. “You missed a spot.”
Flirting 101 tip: Kicking someone when they’re down? Bad call.
She ignored him, Coach Hayden, his assistant coach, and the parade of rowers strutting down to the dock.
Liam leaned in, undeterred. “A little birdie told me you were into crew.”
This was not a state secret.
The whole of Easton Prep knew she was into rowing thanks to an announcement earlier today calling her to Principal Cabrera’s office.
If she’d thought news spread fast in her old high school, she’d been wrong.
Dial-up versus fiber optics. She’d been too terrified she was going to be expelled to think about the fallout at the time, but Coach Hayden had nailed it. She wished she’d been expelled instead.
She shoved the massive broom away from Liam only for him to follow.
“Hey, dock girl. Why don’t I take you out tonight and you can practice your stroke?”
She pulled a sad clown face. “Aww. I can’t. I have plans to profusely vomit at that idea.”
Was it only yesterday she’d discovered the lakeside boathouse and thought she’d found paradise? Paradise lost, more like. A terrifying thought occurred. Had allowing herself to think things might work out here after all meant she was turning into her mom?
Ella had looked upset when Teagan had told her there wasn’t a girls’ rowing team. And then ruined it by suggesting trying another sport…
Ummm? Sure, Mom. She’d just forget about the ten years of training, races, blood, sweat, and tears she’d poured into her dream of rowing for Stanford and give something else a whirl. Ping-pong, maybe. Or roller derby. Better vibe for blowing off steam.
That’s what had made her sneak down here at dawn. When she’d seen the roll-down door someone hadn’t shut properly, it was like the universe was begging her to get a boat, return to her happy place. Remember the girl she used to be.
Catch, drive, finish, recover.
Catch, drive, finish, recover.
Working with the water, finding her pace, pushing it farther and harder until she was nothing but motion and muscle memory.
But of course the boat shed had CCTV.
It was on Teagan’s shoulders that she’d been stupid enough to believe Easton Prep’s brochure: “We go out of our way to lavish our students with every imaginable resource as we shepherd them toward their higher education.”
If you were a guy, maybe. Or your parents donated the resource.
When Juliet had shown her around yesterday, every building, lab, and lecture hall bore plaques bearing the names of illustrious alumni signposting their legacies. And/or their hopes and dreams for their children.
The Senator Deedee Garner Debate Hall.
The Darling Media Center.
Liam the Letch’s parents funded the Colman Economics Building.
And on it went. When Teagan had jokingly asked Juliet if she felt left out, not having a building with her name on it, they’d rounded a corner and Juliet fanned out her hands.
“Ta da! Behold the Morny Fashion and Design Hub.” The entire building, shaped like a Birkin handbag, was covered in crystals.
Real ones. Juliet wasn’t smug about it, though. If anything, she looked kind of sad.
“I designed it as a joke when my parents asked me what I wanted for my fifteenth birthday. At first, I thought they’d say no, but they were into it.
Flew over these specialist crystal putter-on-er people from Eastern Europe.
Had them working around the clock so the ribbon-cutting ceremony would happen on my birthday. ”
“Sounds like they really love you,” Teagan said.
“Yeah,” Juliet said. “Totes.” She’d put on a smile that didn’t make it to her eyes and continued the tour. Since Juliet had been one of the First Day of School’s two highlights, Teagan hadn’t pressed.
The second highlight, to Teagan’s surprise, had been feeling a weird flutter of joy—relief?—when she’d spotted none other than Cam Dillinger climbing up the steps of the main school building.
Someone she knew! Well, someone she’d run into. Literally. Something he evidently wasn’t holding against her if the wave and smile he’d shot across the quad later that afternoon was anything to go by.
There had been one other moment of note. The one when Josh Regis had cozied up to her in English and read that poem with his blue eyes trained on hers, warm and fiery, like he’d written it himself.
If blond, blue-eyed Skarsg?rd lookalikes who made a convincing argument for the return of ’80s preppy fashion were her thing, she would’ve drunk the Kool-Aid there and then. But it wasn’t. Sorry, Josh Regis. He’d have to annoy someone else with his God’s Gift to Women act.
She’d been so stupidly elated when she’d heard there was a rowing team, she’d practically skipped to the boathouse. It was amazing. A sprawling cedar and glass haven for rowers.
A shed packed with top-of-the-range boats. The latest rowing machines (or ergs, as they were known). Everything a girl could want.
If, that is, Easton had a female rowing team. They did not. Not enough interest, apparently. A not very sympathetic assistant coach said there was a community club two towns down the road she could join for five grand.
Yeah, right. If she started prying crystals off Juliet’s fashion center, maybe.
“There’s a party down at the harbor tonight,” said Liam.
“Town throws it every year,” he added, not getting the hint.
“It’s for girls who’re up for a little fun.
Do you like having fun, dock wench?” He rotated his hips in a way that was possibly a dance move, but actually made throwing up a very real possibility.
“Hey, Liam,” called a voice behind her. “Why don’t you try your moves on someone who cares?”
Teagan turned around, squinted against the sun, not entirely sure why the hottie in rowing gear sounded like Cam until she realized it was Cam.
Interesting.
Mechanic. Townie. Student at Easton Prep. And a rower.
Well, well, well. Wasn’t he the dark horse of Eagle’s Cove?