5. Astor
FIVE
ASTOR
I’m awake before my alarm, before the sun, and before most people.
I always am. It’s a ritual designed to keep the delicate order of my life.
Each piece serves its purpose. It’s the only way I survive.
I need to keep my body busy so my mind doesn’t spiral.
Sweat is as close to peace and an escape from my brain as I’ll ever get.
I’ve been doing this so long, I couldn’t sleep past five in the morning now if I wanted to.
It’s easy to fall into the ritual and let it take over. Much easier than thinking.
I strip off the sleep-damp clothes that cling to my skin, a reminder of the haunts I take to bed with me, and I pray they’ll remain there today. At least until I try to sleep again.
I dress quickly to spend as little time as possible with my skin.
Boxers. Pants. Undershirt. Sweater. Windbreaker.
Sock. Sock. Shoe. Shoe. It’s the same every single day.
The only normalcy I can cling to, especially across the ocean from everything I know.
None of this was part of my plan, and I’m still reeling for order.
My bodyguards bring the car around, and I slip inside for the quick drive across campus.
I told them I could walk, that I’d relish the warm-up, but none of them seemed too keen on walking me across campus in the dark and cold, then sitting outside while I went out on the water.
At least this way, they can sit in the warm vehicle since I absolutely forbade them from trying to accompany me.
Crew isn’t a sport one just takes up for fun. Even rowers will tell others not to put themselves through this hell. It’s torture. We all know it, and we all have our reasons we do this to ourselves. But it’s not something I’m willing to suffer my bodyguards learning.
I use my key to the boathouse and walk toward the garage door at the back, lifting it on the riverside before retrieving my scull off the rack.
When I return, most of the other team members will be just going out, but to fit my weapons lessons in before class, I need to get here early.
Moreover, it’s my routine. It’s kept my head above water for the last three years, and I don’t dare change it.
I’m just slipping into my seat and my peace when something large crashes into the back of my scull.
I throw my arms out, nearly toppling into the water. When I regain my balance, I turn around prepared to end whatever chose to disturb my morning, but I’m struck speechless.
A large smiling man stands with one foot on my scull like he’s trying to get on it like a damn wake board.
“What in God’s name are you doing?” I recoil when he reaches for me.
“Good morning! It’s so early.” His voice sounds familiar.
I narrow my eyes. “Again I ask, what do you think you’re doing?”
“Coming with you.” The brute is wearing a huge grin. His light hair falls in his eyes when I pull back, and he almost falls into the icy river. “The least you could do is help me.” He’s not annoyed, more jovial, like this is some sort of game to him.
“This is a single-person scull, you dolt.”
Why on earth would he be here if he’s never rowed before?
“I’m a lot of things, but I’m not dumb.” He uses a tattooed hand to brush his hair back, winking.
“Maybe not dumb, but surely foolish trying to ride a single person scull.” My tone drips with condescension, hoping he’ll catch the hint.
“I have pretty good balance, or you could let me sit next to you.” He grins at me either like he wants to eat me or like he has a high school crush. It raises the hairs on the back of my neck.
Could he know me? I can’t shake the feeling there’s a familiar part to him, but I still can’t place him.
I’ve never seen a man with this many visible tattoos anywhere…but then why do I feel like I know him?
“There is only one seat.” I study him further, trying to figure out where I would have met such a character.
He has something tattooed across his throat. A word I can’t quite make out. He’d never run in the same circles my family does, which only leaves the time since I came to university.
I’d remember him.
“There’s plenty of boats in there with two. We can change it out.” He jabs his thumb towards the boathouse.
“Sculls,” I correct him. “And I prefer to use mine.”
“Whatever. Preferred isn’t locked in. You can do it once. How about it?” He offers me another grin. Vines and leaves edge out of his collar, making me wonder what the rest of the design looks like.
What am I doing, and who the fuck does this guy think he is?
“Go ahead,” I urge, prepared to leave the second he releases my scull.
“You have to come with me.” He holds out a hand, his sweater pulling tight around his muscles as he does. He’s fit, that’s for sure.
I can’t let him distract me. “I have a schedule to keep.”
“Then wait a minute, and I’ll grab a single.”
“Do you know how to row?” I already know the answer.
“Can’t be that hard. I can figure it out.” He’s overly confident another strike against him.
“One doesn’t just row. It takes months to learn. So no, you can’t.” My dismissal doesn’t seem to deter him at all.
“You don’t know me. I can figure anything out way quicker than most.” He’s in such a good mood, despite my rejection, and I cannot figure out why.
“Learn with someone else. I don’t have the time or inclination to teach. Like I said, I’m on a schedule.”
“No. I want to go with you.” His voice tickles something in my brain. I know it from somewhere.
“Who even are you and why do you insist on going with me?”
“Have you forgotten me already, baby?” Every word he speaks tries to pull at a memory I can’t quite grasp.
Where the hell do I know him from?
“Do not call me baby.” I push his foot, trying to get him off my scull so I can leave the encounter. “Where would I possibly remember you from?”
“We just met last night. I really thought I was more memorable.”
My gaze flicks to his eyes. One is half blue, half brown. I’d know them anywhere. He’s the arsehole who fought me then shot arrows at my head. “Did you follow me home?”
“No, but also yes…” His smile widens.
“Why would you do that?”
What is his problem? This can’t be part of admittance.
“To get to know you.” He steps his second foot on the scull, lifting the front out of the water with the imbalance of weight. But he doesn’t fall in the river. It’s impressive—I have to give him that.
I recoil against the icy water his antics kick up. “You’re going to sink it.”
“How am I expected to join you for a morning row if I can’t get on it?” He glances around like he’s just realizing the hull is sinking under his weight.
“You’re not. This is a solo endeavor.” I knew I didn’t like him. All of this confirms it.
“That seems exclusionary.” He steps off the scull, sitting on the dock, but keeps one hand on my hull, preventing me from leaving.
“It’s a solo activity. It’s designed to be exclusionary.” I make sure my tone is dismissive but unbothered, a skill I’d learned as a child.
“How do you expect me to get to know you if you insist on being so antisocial?” He drags the skull closer so we’re nearly face to face.
I blink, unsure why in the world he’d want to get to know me. If he recalls, he was the one keeping me from winning anything with Legacy. No one else could have bested me with a blade, I’m sure of it, and he decided to humiliate me.
Why the fuck would I want to get to know him? He must be delusional.
“Well?”
“Why would I endeavor to get to know you when you made a fool of me?” I press my oar into his chest, using him to push away.
But he doesn’t let go. I knew it wouldn’t be so easy. He grabs the oar with his other hand, pulling me back towards him. I yank it, trying to get away from him, but he wrestles me closer, until he closes his fingers around the scull again.
“You don’t have a choice.” Veins in his arm protruding. He doesn’t even flinch at the cold. Not a shiver nor a goose bump.
I balk at his words. “Excuse me?”
Who the fuck is he?
Why does he have any interest in getting to know me while trying to keep me out of Legacy?
“You heard me.”
“I think I have a choice in my solo row.” I twist the oar around to shove at him.
He throws it off and yanks me closer at the same time, grabbing me by my windbreaker, drawing our bodies a breath apart.
I glance down, keeping up my unbothered air, but I notice for the first time his hand is huge. Why hadn’t I realized before? It’s uncomfortably so. I can only imagine what it would look like wrapped around any part of me. I swallow hard, not sure why such a thing would even cross my mind.
“You think wrong.” The word isn’t demanding or angry. It’s concise and sure.
“I need to finish my row before my other lessons, and you’ve delayed me.” I don’t know what else to say but I can’t let this brute fuck up my entire day. I put my hand on his, prying his fingers off the edge of my shell.
“You have hours until class. None of them start before eight.”
“I have lessons other than classes.”
“No wonder you’re so good with a sword.” He looks right at my lips and licks his own. “I’ll get my own.” He lets me go.
I’m shocked but I can’t linger in case he changes his mind.
“Good luck.” I mask any feelings I might have had about it with my anger at the disruption of my schedule. I’d have to shave minutes off my row to keep the rest of my day on time.
“I don’t need luck, baby.”
I roll my eyes, not allowing myself to even wonder why he’d want to know anything about me. Nor why he’d be here after the weird encounter in my room. He’s merely a piece in the game, and I need to move him around.
I put my back into my pull, focusing on working my muscles and blocking out everything else. The burn eclipses all else and resets my brain. It’s the only way I get through the day. The burn and the order. Life is right. I can get through another day. I will find a way to get into Legacy.
I force myself harder, determined to make up the time the imbecile wasted, needing to get the same distance and fix my timetable. Every stroke cleanses my body and mind.