Page 68 of Level Up

Adjusting my grip on the oar, I felt the smooth wood beneath my fingers, grounding me in the present moment. My gaze swept over the crowd gathered along the shore one last time. Again, not expecting anything in particular.

And then, there he was—Jay, standing tall near the main dock, his hazel eyes fixed on me, a big and relaxed smile on his face.

He’d made it. He had come. Holy fucking shit.

My heart swelled so big that I was sure my chest was a few beats away from bursting. I blew him a kiss and gave him an excited wave, which he instantly returned. A surge of emotion welled up inside me at the sight of him, a blend of gratitude and determination. With Jay on the shore, I knew I could conquer anything. The swell of inspiration hit me like a tidal wave.

“Ready, crew?” Coach’s voice broke through my thoughts, snapping me back to the task at hand.

I nodded. My jaw tensed with determination. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

The starter’s signal pierced the air. We were off. With a deep breath, I propelled myself forward, the shell slicing through the water with each powerful stroke. I pushed past the instant burn in my muscles, every fiber of my being focused on the race ahead.

The other racing shells surged forward beside us, their oars cutting through the water with precision and speed. Yale’s shell, sleek and formidable, pulled ahead with effortless grace, the rowers’ synchronized movements a clear testament to their skill. Princeton’s crew, fierce and determined, kept pace beside us, their eyes locked on the prize.

Yeah, well, so were we.

Water splashed around us. The lake stretched on ahead, the clear skies reflected on the glass-like surface.

Except… well, we began falling behind. The other shells gained ground with every stroke. This couldn’t happen.

Especially not with Jay in the crowd.

Travis kept us focused, keeping his calm as he called out to us. His voice echoed over the water as we dug our oars deep into the lake, pushing myself harder than ever before.

The sun beat down on us, intensifying the heat and adding an extra layer of challenge to an already hard-as-fuck race. Sweat beaded on my forehead. Dripped down my face. I ignored the salty burn as it slipped into my eyes.

We neared the halfway point, two shells behind first. The tension in the shell was thick. The leading shells pulling further ahead with every stroke.

Travis continued to push us.

Our oars sliced through the water with synchronized precision. We’d done better in practice than this. What was going on? The gap between us and the leading shells kept growing.

Shit, shit, shit, shit.

Just when it seemed like all hope was lost, Travis must have spotted a slight shift in the wind, a ripple on the surface of the water that hinted at an opportunity. Without hesitation, he called out to the crew, directing us to adjust our strokes to take advantage of the shift while still sticking to our lane.

With a blast of combined adrenaline, we surged forward. The shell glided across the water like the blades of an ice skater across ice. The cheers of the crowd blended into a distant roar as we closed the gap, inch by agonizing inch.

As we rounded the final few feet, the finish line loomed ahead of us. The leading shells were within reach. Their crew pushed themselves to the brink in a desperate bid for victory.

But the FU crew refused to be left behind. With every ounce of strength remaining, we poured ourselves into each stroke. We drove ourselves forward. Grunts and shouts and struggle.

And then, in a blur of motion, we crossed the finish line first, the roar of the crowd erupting around us.

We did it. We fucking won first place.

“We won!” my crewmates all shouted, echoing the cheers in my head. We beat out Yale, Princeton, UCLA, Syracuse, and Washington, all to claim our top spot and earn our position in the championship races. My heart beat at about a hundred miles per minute, my shoulders were burning, my back was already sore, and all I wanted to do was dive into the water and swim out to the crowd so I could kiss my man.

I can’t believe he’s here.

We rowed back to the dock. The crew jumped off the shell and onto dry land, immediately turning the celebration into a big bear hug. Our coach joined in, the announcer narrating the moment, same excitement as ours.

I drank it up. I enjoyed playing sports because of my competitive nature and the obvious health benefits that came with it. But if I were being honest, it was moments like these that gave me the real rush. Winning a race, soaking in the cheers, congratulating the crew, it all added up to an almost addictive kind of experience.

A hand landed on my lower back. I thought it was another crewmate.

It was Jay. His grin stretched from ear to ear. And he wasn’t empty-handed, either. He had a bucket full of my favorite candies and treats, with a tiny rowing shell and paddles sitting on the light blue confetti paper.

---