4. Chapter 4
Chapter 4
I couldn’t concentrate all day, replaying the disastrous kiss again and again, a wave of nausea rolling through me every time I recalled the way he’d tensed, his cough, how I’d practically tried to stick my tongue down his throat …
I’d basically jumped the poor guy, who’d been doing nothing but nobly playing his part as agreed.
But it had felt so damned good for those one or two brief seconds before he’d pulled away. His lips against mine, his muscles under my fingers. I’d wanted to dive under his skin and never come out. But that’s not what this was. And in half an hour, after the meeting to talk logistics for the regatta this weekend, he’d probably call it off. The thought made me want to scream, even if rationally I knew that would be the best possible outcome because this whole thing was utter madness!
I sat back in my chair and scrubbed my face with my hands as an automatic log-out screen popped up on my computer, covering the accounts I’d been pretending to reconcile for the last two hours. Apparently I no longer even possessed the ability to match up a few numbers, Andrew consuming my entire conscious mind.
Not that reconciling the same old accounts week after week was in any way interesting these days. I’d loved it at the beginning, not to mention seeing the fruits of all my hard work rolling in, but the shine had come off, and now it was just a boring task that was too easy to complete myself to justify palming off onto my accountant.
I’d been feeling out of sorts for weeks, and as I stared through my office window at the clouds, I finally admitted to myself that I was bored with my life. I’d been on the same work-rowing-work merry-go-round for a decade, and it was beginning to drag me down.
I hated being stagnant, and for the first time in my life, I was. Had been for a while, really. The café and bar were doing well, so much so they barely needed me anymore, and I did the same training week in, week out with the same people, then raced at the same regattas every year. I loved my crew and rowing and my businesses, but I needed something new. A challenge. Anything to get me out of this rut.
Like marriage and babies and a happily ever after, said a voice from the deepest recesses of my mind. I shut it down. I was in my thirties, yes, but I still had plenty of time. Although it had been years since I’d had anything resembling a stable boyfriend, and even he hadn’t lasted long, mainly because I’d never had time to see him.
Andrew , said the voice.
‘Fuck off,’ I said aloud, then wondered if I was losing my mind because I was literally talking to myself.
I needed something else. Something new. Something for me. And a relationship wouldn’t fix those problems, even if one would be nice. Andrew’s face popped back into my mind’s eye, the image of his intelligent eyes, pillowy lips, and mop of blond hair as he looked down at me from above. This time, I didn’t fight the daydream of Andrew kissing me back this morning, a daydream that had been demanding airtime in my brain all day, and as I let it play, he didn’t just kiss me, he shoved me against the side of his truck and ravaged me.
I closed my eyes and shook the reel away; I could not keep doing this to myself. We were just friends, albeit entering into an unconventional arrangement, but friends nonetheless. This was not a long-term thing. This was not marriage and babies. It wasn’t even dating.
But he was reluctant to put an end date on it. Said we’d cross that bridge if we got to it …
I growled at my self-destructive internal voice, then looked at my watch. Shit. I jumped to my feet, daydreams and existential crises would have to wait because I was somehow late for the meeting, and I hated being late.
I practically sprinted to the club, flying through the clubhouse doors, then pausing for several moments outside the small meeting room to catch my breath before pulling open the door as quietly as I could. Of course it squeaked, and the whole room, set up like an auditorium, turned to look at me.
‘Sorry,’ I mouthed, waving apologetically and scanning for a space to sit. There was none, and all the wall space was taken, too. Wherever I stood, I’d be blocking someone’s view.
I was beginning to think I would have to sit on the floor at the front like a school kid, but then a hand closed around mine, and I looked down to find Andrew in the seat beside me.
He tapped his legs, and for a moment I didn’t understand what he was suggesting. We would talk later, not now! I furrowed my brow and shook my head questioningly, but then he flicked his eyes to his lap and tapped his legs again, and understanding dawned. I froze, and my eyes flew wide. He couldn’t mean … I couldn’t … No.
He gave me a teasing look that turned into a dare, silently asking if I was chicken, and I narrowed my eyes, knowing full well he was using my competitive instincts against me. I was no fucking chicken. But I couldn’t call him out because people were watching, and if I made an issue, it would lead to questions and suspicions and all kinds of attention I would be happier to avoid.
He released my wrist, seeming to know he’d won, and I gingerly lowered myself onto one of his legs. Luckily, our coach, Cassandra, started talking again, drawing the attention of the room back to her and making me marginally less awkward.
I tried to perch gently at first, taking some of my weight on my feet, worried I’d squash him. But it must have been as uncomfortable for him as it was for me because he pulled me to sit sideways across both legs, my feet off the floor, my side pressed to his chest, his arm around my waist.
‘Sorry,’ I breathed, briefly meeting his gaze, then turning my eyes forward. I tried to ignore all the places our bodies were pressed together and how his fingers loosely gripped my waist. I was stiff as a board, refusing to relax into him, the sting of his rejection too fresh in my memory, and I reminded myself, yet again, that this was fake for him. A way to mess with Theo. It meant nothing.
I tried to focus on Cassandra, but it wasn’t easy, especially as his thumb seemed to have somehow slipped under my tee. How had that happened?
‘We’ll head up at 6am tomorrow morning,’ said Cassandra. ‘Neither crew is racing until the afternoon, so that should give us plenty of time to get there, register, and deal with the boats.’
Only the men’s and women's first boats were going to our regatta, everyone else in the room—the less experienced crews—were heading to a smaller, more local regatta instead. Ours was a big two-day event to mark the beginning of the racing season, and it didn’t do much to accommodate novices. That, at least, would make our logistics easy, as everyone going knew what they were doing, meaning faffing should be minimal.
Andrew’s fingers squeezed my waist, and my whole being homed in on the zip of desire it sent to my core. I ignored it, and refused to turn my head to look at him lest my features betray the lust careening through my blood. It was just a squeeze of friendship, to reassure me, or—
‘Relax, Miri,’ he whispered, and then his thumb skirted gently back and forth across my skin. I squeezed my thighs together. Friends . We were just friends. This was platonic stroking. All entirely innocent. But somehow the side of my head had pressed itself against his forehead, and my eyes had closed, and my breathing had become ragged.
We’d never touched much as friends, the odd arm squeeze or hug all that was normal, aside from one party where he’d put his arm around me and I’d fallen asleep with my head on his shoulder. But that had been years ago.
‘Any issues with getting there, or last-minute camping emergencies?’ Cassandra continued, as Andrew circled his thumb once more.
My lips parted, and after a few more strokes, I was fighting hard against the temptation to touch him in return or rub my forehead back and forth against his. But this morning—
‘Belle’s work has quietened down, so she’s coming along, too,’ said Livia’s voice from the front of the room. ‘I’m assuming Miri’s bunking in with Andrew, so Belle can share my tent?’
At the sound of my name, my eyes snapped open to find the attention of the room on us once more. My cheeks heated both from the weight of their collective gaze and because of what Livia had said. What the words meant.
‘Uh …’ My mind raced. We hadn’t covered camping in the rules, although we probably should have. We regularly travelled for regattas. Why hadn’t I thought of that?
‘Yep,’ said Andrew. ‘Miri can drive up with me, too, if you need a free seat in your car for Belle?’
‘Yes! Thank you,’ said Livia. ‘Perfect.’ She smiled in her slightly smug project manager-y way, no doubt because she’d checked not one, but two items off her list, then turned to face the front.
‘If there’s nothing else, then my crews, please load your boats,’ said Cassandra. ‘And then I’d encourage an early night.’
Andrew held me in place as our crews leapt to action, brushing his lips against my ear and murmuring, ‘It’s fine. Don’t stress about it.’
‘I’m not,’ I said defensively, although I definitely was.
We were going to share a tent. Tomorrow night. Just the two of us. How the fuck had that happened? And what on Earth was Andrew playing at? This morning, he hadn’t even wanted to kiss me. Yet now he was sticking his freaking fingers under my shirt. It made no sense.
‘You two coming?’ said Theo, who’d paused beside us on his way to the exit, his arms folded aggressively across his chest. I had to suppress a smile as I climbed off Andrew, but as he got up, he snagged my arms and pulled me back against his chest, so we walked together with an awkward gait. Theo huffed and stormed ahead, and I chuckled as Andrew released me, turning my head so we could share the childish victory.
By the time I got outside, my crew had already loaded our blades into the trailer and were waiting for me to lift our quad, Em , off the racks. ‘Shit, sorry guys,’ I said, jogging to the boat and taking my place.
‘Ready, lift,’ said Cassandra, and we slid Em off the rubber-covered metal struts, all of us on the same side, so we reached over and supported her awkwardly between us. When she was clear of the rack, Livia and Ottie ducked under, taking the far side, while Hazel and I shifted our grips so we only held our side.
‘Shoulders, ready, go!’ called Cassandra, and we lifted the boat to our shoulders, then carried her outside to where two slings awaited. At Cassandra’s instruction, we lifted Em above our heads, and then gently rolled her down, the slings cradling the round underbelly of our carbon fiber beauty.
We all immediately set to work, my crew well practiced in detaching the wing-shaped riggers from the hull. We pulled out our rigger jiggers —spanners made with rowing boats in mind—and made short work of the task, so soon our riggers and seats had joined the blades in the trailer.
The men’s four finished just after us, and we loaded and strapped down the boats in no time, then hitched the trailer to Noah’s truck.
‘See you tomorrow!’ we called to the men’s crew, and then we took off towards my apartment for our usual pre-race pasta party. I determinedly looked anywhere but at Andrew because I didn’t know what the hell was going on, and I was too confused to be convincing in front of our overly interested audience. All day I’d thought we were headed for a fake break up, and now we were couple-camping? What the actual fucking fuck?
I closed my apartment door completely lost in thought, almost forgetting about the others, but as I turned, I found all three of them standing in a line, eying me with varying degrees of expectation. And then they launched their attack.
‘Soooo,’ said Ottie, cocking a hip as she leaned against my kitchen island.
‘What a lovely evening,’ I replied, walking to the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the river. ‘Shall we sit on the balcony?’
‘So you can use the excuse that someone might overhear us?’ said Livia, her incredulity palpable.
My balcony was above and a little set back from the bar’s terrace, and yes, that had been precisely my plan. Damn her.
‘Nice try,’ said Ottie, putting the kettle on. ‘We’re staying inside.’
‘Can Belle join?’ asked Hazel, looking up from her phone.
‘Of course!’ It was so nice to have her around again, and I was glad she was coming this weekend. Her work had stolen her from us recently, and I’d missed her quirky ways.
‘Sooooooooo,’ said Ottie again, leaning over the counter, her chin resting on her hands.
‘Wait until Belle’s here,’ said Livia, pulling a bag of fresh pasta from her rucksack, ‘then Miri won’t have to repeat herself.’
‘So considerate,’ I said sarcastically, then I moved to the cupboard and pulled out a pan. I busied myself setting it on the stove and filling it with boiling water, then dumped the pasta in. Ottie was already chopping onions and garlic, and Hazel was picking fresh herbs from the planters on the windowsill behind the sink, while Livia got us all glasses of water, then laid the table, so by the time Belle arrived ten minutes later, we were almost ready to eat.
‘I brought salad,’ said Belle, holding up a bowl filled with green leaves, artichoke hearts, cherry tomatoes, pickled beetroot, and olives.
‘Yes!’ said Ottie, plucking it from her hands and plonking it on the wooden table, while Hazel found salad servers and slid those into the bowl.
I sprinkled parsley on top of the penne carbonara into which Livia had just stirred liberal quantities of parmesan cheese, inhaling deeply before Livia snatched up the bowl and took it to the table, my stomach rumbling as I followed, eager to tuck in.
‘So,’ Ottie said for a third time, this time accompanied by an expression that said she meant business. ‘Are you finally going to tell us the story of how you ended up dating Andrew?’
They turned intrigued eyes on me, but I made them wait as I finished my mouthful of deliciousness, then said, ‘No,’ with a devious smile.
Ottie and Livia howled in outrage, and a laugh that sounded alarmingly close to a cackle sprang from my lips. I stifled it by taking a long sip of water, but as I returned my high ball to the table, it was clear they weren’t going to let it go. Even Hazel looked expectant, and in fairness, I knew I’d be the same if our roles were reversed.
I looked down at my food, playing with a piece of pasta as guilt crammed into every empty space inside me. ‘There’s nothing much to tell.’
‘Ha!’ Ottie leaned in. ‘Didn’t look like nothing much when you were perched on his lap earlier.’
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help but smile along with them because yes, I had done that, and I still couldn’t really believe it myself.
I shrugged. ‘We’re dating. It’s new. And apparently we’re staying in a tent together this weekend …’ I rounded on Livia, full of mock outrage.
Livia clamped her teeth together and pulled her lips wide. ‘Sorry about that. I should have asked you first.’
‘It’s fine,’ I said, waving her off, then loading my plate with salad. Although I wasn’t in fact sure if it was fine. I wasn’t sure if anything was fine at that particular moment.
‘Have you shagged yet?’ said Belle, making us all bark with laughter at her characteristically blunt question. Belle didn’t say much, but when she did, she packed a punch. She dismissed our hysterics with a wave of her hand. ‘You were all thinking it.’
They made various gestures of amused agreement, then shifted their attention back to me, and I froze.
‘Hey,’ said Hazel, by far the softest member of our crew. She rested a hand on my arm and squeezed. ‘There’s no pressure to tell us anything. Tell us to mind our own business if you want.’
‘We haven’t,’ I said in a rush. Honesty was always the best policy, if one ignored the gaping lie, of course. ‘It’s so new, it’s overwhelming. I wasn’t planning on telling anyone yet—you know what the club’s like—and after what happened …’
‘But you do like him?’ said Livia, her skeptical frown telling me her spidey senses were tingling, knowing something about my story was off. I could never get a single thing past her.
‘Of course!’ I said, too brightly. My insides clenched just thinking about his thumb on my skin, and if a single thumb could do that … ‘But I don’t know if it’s serious, or what he wants, or what I even want.’
‘I don’t have to come this weekend,’ said Belle. ‘If you’d rather not share a tent with Andrew—’
‘Or I’m sure we could find another tent,’ added Ottie.
Hazel nodded, while Livia assessed me with slightly narrowed eyes.
‘It’s fine,’ I said quickly. ‘I’m more than happy to share a tent with Andrew. We are dating, after all.’ I covered my discomfort with a salacious eyebrow raise, and they all laughed.
‘Of course she is,’ said Ottie. ‘Have you seen the state of him?’
‘Yes,’ I confidently confirmed. Because hell yes , I’d seen the state of him. I’d gone one better than that. I’d felt the state of him. And I’d smelt the state of him. And tasted the state of him. And the state of his personality was top freaking notch too. The state of him was absolute perfection, now that I thought about it. But there was just one little problem. Our relationship was fake .
‘Well,’ said Livia, ‘enjoy it because the rest of us are going through a dry spell.’
‘I’m not,’ said Belle.
‘Rub it in, why don’t you,’ said Ottie, swirling the water in her glass.
Livia shook her head despondently. ‘I fear dating apps are the only hope for me.’
Ottie scoffed. ‘So use a dating app; that’s what I do.’
‘Do you?’ said Hazel.
Ottie’s head moved back a few inches. ‘Don’t you? Doesn’t everyone?’
Hazel shook her head. ‘I’m too scared of being trafficked or dumped over the side of a bridge somewhere or swindled.’
‘You need to let loose!’ said Ottie. ‘Let your hair down! Untie those straight laces!’
‘I’m happy with my laces just as they are, thank you very much,’ Hazel said on a laugh. ‘Although I wouldn’t say no to a large, attractive man tugging them free.’
Livia saluted Hazel with her water glass. ‘You and me both, sister.’
‘What about Seb? Or Noah?’ I asked, referring to the other members of the men’s senior squad.
‘Seb’s gay,’ said Livia, pushing the last of her food onto her fork.
‘But is he actually ?’ said Ottie.
‘Yes,’ said Belle and Livia together, then Belle continued, her tone brooking no argument. ‘My gaydar is never wrong.’
‘And he’s my best friend,’ said Livia. ‘Believe me when I say he’s gay.’ She widened her eyes meaningfully, and we all laughed.
‘Noah, then?’ I suggested. ‘Although, did he and Seb have a thing?’
Belle whipped her head towards me. ‘Did they?’
‘Yes,’ said Hazel, her voice quiet after our boisterous volume.
Ottie nodded enthusiastically. ‘Pretty sure Noah’s bi, but he’s not for me.’
‘Why?’ demanded Livia.
‘He’s just so … nice.’
Livia doubled down. ‘What’s wrong with nice?’
‘You want to date Noah?’ said Hazel, gaining a little in intensity as she looked at Livia, and … had her cheeks just flushed?
Livia vehemently shook her head. ‘Urgh, no. He’s way too nice.’
We all laughed, then lapsed into our usual rowing chatter as we cleared up. Non-rowers always joked it was impossible to socialize with rowing types because all we ever wanted to talk about was rowing, and to be honest, they weren’t too far off the mark.
With our early start looming, it was soon time to call it a night, and I waved goodbye to my crew, closed the door, then pulled my vibrating phone out of my pocket, my stomach tightening when I saw the name on the screen.
Andrew 21:03: I’ll pick you up outside yours at 6AM?
Just a normal message from a friend. My heart sank a little as I typed my reply.
Miri 21:03: Sure. I’ll bring coffee [steaming coffee cup emoji]
Andrew 21:04: You’re the best. Pete and Hannah are riding with us. See you then. X
Relief warred with disappointment somewhere in the region of my stomach, while my eyes kept finding the word us . We were an us !
Of course we weren’t an us, not really. Andrew only wanted to be friends, but the idea sent a thrill of excitement through me regardless. So I reminded myself of how he’d pulled away when, like a creep, I’d tried to deepen our fake kiss, told myself if I dreamed and hoped, it would lead only to disappointment or embarrassment or both. I had to remember this was fake, that he was doing me a favor and nothing more.
Miri 21:05: Sounds good. See you in the morning x