Page 21 of Oar Than Friends

When I first applied to Cambridge, I naively assumed it would be teeming with students walking the sacred corridors quietly nodding to each other in recognition of being part of something great, all while cheering the university teams on to victory in their respective sports. It was what had intimidated me the most, and what I’d tried not to think about as I took the path my brother couldn’t.

I hadn’t expected it to be likeGossip Girl.

‘What does he look like?’

‘You should google him later, search for British Rowing at the World Championships, he really fills out his rowing singlet.’ Imogen grinned, ‘I can’t wait to see him in person today … all tall, dark hair, drop-dead gorgeous. Totally smoking hot, but if you look carefully you’ll find a set of devil horns under his beanie.’

Hannah snorted again, ‘Bet he’s got a wicked forked tongue too.’

I barked out a loud laugh, unsure why I was so shocked. These two were like a walkingNational Enquirer, totally entertaining but not to be taken seriously under any circumstances. ‘What was the story today?’

‘Something to do with his dad, but a picture of A. O.-C. on a yacht with some friends and girls. Like father like son or something. Nothing interesting.’

I pulled my hood up my neck as a bitter wind whipped around us. ‘How does he find the time to win medals and party so much?’

‘God knows. He’s got talent, that’s for sure.’ Hannah squinted at the church clock in the distance as the bells rang out striking the hour, ‘Come on, we need to hurry.’

The cobbled path opened up and we turned left onto the short street leading down to the river. Students, all wearing various items of Cambridge University clothing – hoodies, bodywarmers, beanie hats – filled the streets, all ready to cheer their team on.

We made our way over the footbridge to the boathouse. When we arrived Imogen reached for the pale-blue door just as it was pushed open from the inside by none otherthan Mary Heston, who didn’t look particularly happy. Or maybe her face always looked like that, with her beady little black pupils resembling the raisins in my morning bowl of granola; the ones I always picked out.

‘You three are late,’ she snapped. ‘If you’re expecting to be part ofmywomen’s crew, your timekeeping needs to greatly improve. Hurry up and get inside before anyone else notices.’

‘Sorry, Mary,’ Hannah mumbled as we slunk through the door, only to find the corridors filled with familiar faces from the week of tryouts and several of the wider squad milling about.

‘Jeez. She needs to calm down,’ added Imogen, thrusting her watch out to me when Mary was out of sight. ‘We’re not late, we still have ten minutes. Look. And why isn’t she yelling at any of this lot?’

‘Dunno. But let’s get out of her way.’

‘If we stand at the back we can try to sneak out and head to the starting line if the boys don’t stop talking about stealing their oars back and taking the Oxford crown.’

‘Good idea,’ agreed Hannah.

‘I just have to use the bathroom,’ I said, veering off to the right. ‘Save me a spot, I’ll come and find you.’

I snuck down the corridor to the female changing rooms I’d used earlier in the week, and ducked into the nearest stall.

It was as I walked back out buttoning my jeans that the door to the changing rooms opened, and in walked the one person I’d been thinking about more than anything or anyone else for the past week. In the stark light of the bathroom, he was even more beautiful than I’dremembered, his cheekbones higher under the stubble which had definitely thickened, his jaw straighter, his legs longer. He stopped dead the second he saw me, and the way his eyes widened and mouth dropped open couldn’t be taken as anything other than a compliment. My heart let out two hard thuds of approval, and fluttered against my ribcage.

‘Holy shit! Kate Astley! I was just thinking about you. All that visualization crap must work.’ He gave two exaggerated blinks. ‘Wow, are you a sight for sore eyes.’

My jaw dropped as his had, but I managed to tear my gaze away to look around. Had I come into the men’s bathroom? No.

‘Wh … what are you doing in here?’

‘Don’t worry, you’re in the ladies.’ He grinned, which had my heart crashing hard against my sternum again. My memory had not held up well. ‘I drank too much water on the way here and couldn’t wait.’

‘There’s a men’s bathroom.’

‘I can’t use that one.’ I was about to ask why not but he continued talking as he walked straight into the stall I’d just left. ‘Give me a second. Don’t leave.’

The noise of him peeing loudly broke me out of the shock which had glued my feet to the floor, and I hurried over to the sink to wash my hands. Thirty seconds later he was standing next to me doing the same thing, then turned to me with a grin and handed me a paper towel he’d removed from the dispenser.

It took me a couple of seconds, mostly because we were standing there staring at each other, matching grins widening while we both wondered if what was happeningwas really happening. Or I was at least. It was hard to believe he was actually real, that this was the guy I’d been messaging all week.

Jeez, he was hot.

‘It must have been so dark last week because you’re even more beautiful than I remember. There’s no way I’d have forgotten.’

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