Page 23 of Oar Than Friends

I nodded. ‘How did you know?’

‘You look like one,’ he said with a sly smile.

I opened my mouth to respond but then remembered his answer from a moment ago, when I asked if he wassupporting Oxford. And something in my brain clicked into shocked place. ‘Wait, what did you mean before … of sorts?’

‘Um,’ he shuffled back from me slightly, his hand resting on the edge of the sink. To his credit he held my stare, ‘I’m not here as a supporter.’

I frowned so deeply a thick bolt of pain hit me between my eyes, and if I could have kicked myself, I would have.

How did I not see it before? The breadth of his chest, the power in his biceps; I’d spent long enough around rowers that I should have recognized one standing in front of me.

‘You’re rowing?!’

He nodded slowly, so slowly it allowed time for the truth to sink in; I was fraternizing with the enemy. It was one thing for him to be attending a rival university, it was quite another for him to be direct competition.

‘You’re a rower? You row for Oxford? How did you not tell me?!’

‘You also didn’t tell me! We’ve been texting for four days!’

‘I wanted to tell you in person,’ I hissed back.

He started to say something, but then my eyes fell to the bold black letters on his jacket.

A.O.-C.

The longer I stared the quicker it became clear that the O didn’t stand for Oxford. And the C didn’t stand for Club.

The O was for Osbourne.

Arthur Osbourne-Cloud.

Oz.

I stepped away from him, my head spiralling with everything I remembered Imogen telling me less than an hour ago … her words swimming before my eyes. She’d certainly got one thing right, he was absolutely gorgeous.

But it didn’t matter.

‘Oh my god. You’re him.’ My hand dropped from my mouth enough for him to hear me whisper.

He searched my face, looking as confused as I felt. He reached out to me again, but this time I stepped back. ‘Who are you talking about? Who am I?’

When I didn’t answer right away, I could see the cogs whirring in his brain as he figured out the person I was talking about was him.

‘Did you just comparemeto Hugh Hefner?’

I bit down on my cheek, ‘You’re the guy I’ve been hearing about. The President of Oxford Rowing. That’s you, right?’

Oz’s body tensed. It was almost imperceptible, but I caught the seam of his jacket strain slightly as the air took on a distinct chill. He peered down at me through narrowed eyes, and his lips pursed. ‘Kate, the only guy I am is the one you met last Saturday night.’

‘I … I …’

I stood there staring at him, but I had no words. All I could see was the boy I’d been dreaming about kissing all week, and all I could hear was Imogen.

Oz’s massive arms folded across his chest, and even under the thick material of his jacket I could see his biceps flexing. ‘What’s going on?’

Glancing over to the door, I half expected it to open. I’d been in here long enough now that the girls wouldwonder where I was, not to mention someone else would likely need to use the bathroom at some point, and come in to find me consorting with the enemy.

If that someone was Mary Heston, it would only lead to a whole host of trouble. I most definitely wouldn’t get invited back to the crew. I’d probably get kicked out of Cambridge and sent back home, considering Oz’s status. It seemed to be a fitting punishment for everything I’d been told about the rivalry this week.

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