Page 22 of Oar Than Friends

I blushed hard, my eyes dropping at the compliment, even though I’d been thinking the exact same thing about him.

If my eyeline hadn’t been closer to his chest than his face, I probably wouldn’t have noticed what was emblazoned on his jacket so quickly. But I’d heard more this week about stealingthatcrown than I had about anything I was officially studying.

My gaze snapped to his, then once more to the crest over his left chest.

The crest which didn’t match the one printed on my hoodie.

When I glanced up, I couldn’t quite read the expression on his face. If I knew him better, I’d say it was nervousness.

‘Oz, what’s that?’ I pointed to the navy-blue windbreaker jacket he was wearing.

‘My jacket.’

‘No, that.’ The tip of my finger stopped just before it touched the crown sitting above crossed oars, like it would singe my fingerprints if it did.

He cleared his throat. ‘It’s the crest for the Oxford University Boat Club.’

The squirming in my belly increased.

I might have only been at Cambridge a week, but that was long enough to understand full well that a Cambridge student would rather die than wear that crest. Okay, maybe notdiedie, but I definitely knew the answer to my next question would be a negative.

‘Please tell me you’re wearing it because you’re cold, and that happened to be the closest thing you could find to put on.’

He winced slightly, and his mouth stayed in a hard line. ‘I can’t do that.’

‘You’re supporting Oxford today?’

He looked away, taking a deep breath before he answered. ‘Of sorts.’

My eyes travelled between his and the crest, my head spinning while simultaneously trying to ignore how broad his chest was, or how the navy blue of his jacket only made his turquoise eyes even paler, and his bronzed skin darker. Or how his thick black hair curled along the rim of his ball cap, and my fingers itched to push it off so I could twist them through the silky strands.

‘You go to Oxford University?’

‘I do.’ He nodded and my thudding heart sank from my chest, beginning its journey to the pit of my stomach.

‘But,’ I blinked again, words jumbling in my mouth, ‘your friend Olly …’

‘What about him?’

‘He’s here at Cambridge.’

‘So?’ He smiled softly, then reached for my hand as I sighed, and implored me with his gaze. ‘I’m sorry, Yankee Doodle. I should have told you when we met, but it honestly didn’t occur to me because you completely stole myfocus. Forgive me, please? It really doesn’t change anything. Does it? You’ll still meet me later? Then we can talk about how we can make the distance work.’

Like last week, I found myself mesmerized, and completely disarmed; the anxiety that had risen a minute ago disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. My shoulders dropped and I mirrored his smile. ‘Sorry, I wasn’t expecting it. Yes, I’ll still find you later; I need to go now, though. I have a crew meeting before the races, and I’ll no doubt hear more about how your president seems to be rowing’s answer to Hugh Hefner.’ I smiled teasingly, but now it was his turn to frown.

‘What? What does that mean?’

‘Oh nothing, something the girls were telling me.’ I waved my hand dismissively, ‘I really have to go, I can’t be late.’

He blinked once, then twice, ‘For your crew meeting? You row?’

‘Yes.’ I nodded.

‘On the Cambridge crew?’

‘Yes. Part of my scholarship is based on being a member of the university squad.’

His eyes slowly left mine and travelled down to my feet and back again. It wasn’t the same once-over he’d given me last week; that one had my toes curling, while this felt more assessing – and the weight it held was very different. ‘You’re a cox?’

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