Page 27 of Oar Than Friends

‘Cox.’

‘Well, shit.’

I nodded. That summed it up perfectly. Shit.

Brooks sat back down in the chair. ‘And that’s what she’s pissed off about?’

I shook my head, ‘No, I wasn’t done … it was fine, but then she saw my name. She knew who I was, or she knew who people think I am. She’d clearly been fed a pack of lies from the Cambridge lot. She called me ruthless and arrogant.’

‘That’s just loser speak for someone who wins,’ grinnedCharlie, which made me properly smile for the first time in days. I could live with being called ruthless.

‘Yeah, but she also called me the Hugh Hefner of rowing.’ If I was honest, that accusation was the one thing really bothering me, ‘What the fuck does that even mean?’

Brooks stretched his arms over his head with a huffed laugh, ‘Does that make this place the Playboy Mansion? We could definitely do with some bunnies here!’

‘Fuck knows, but right!’ I pointed at him, ‘I can’t even fucking remember the last time I hooked up with someone.’

Brooks raised an eyebrow, immediately transporting me to the night I’d won gold with the British team at Worlds. We’d trained our arses off the entire season, and that evening the team let loose at a party thrown by the rowing federation. I ended up leaving with Madison Fleming, the very beautiful number four seat from the Australian team, and spent the night in her hotel room. It was an epic night of fucking and in the morning we had breakfast, then went our separate ways.

I hadn’t been with anyone since.

‘I mean here!’ I huffed.

‘What exactly did she say?’ Charlie bit down on another cookie, brushing the crumbs off his shirt.

‘That I’d slept with half of Cambridge.’

He nodded solemnly though I could see his lip twitching, ‘I’d say you don’t have the time, but you are taking classics.’

‘Oh fuck off,’ I wailed, ‘this isn’t funny!’

It only made him laugh harder.

‘Then what happened?’ interrupted Brooks before Charlie could say anything else.

I shrugged, ‘She clearly believes whatever lies she’s been told, but even if she didn’t, apparently as president I’m the enemy.’

Brooks’ deep scoff told me exactly what he thought of that, but then his expression changed into one I couldn’t read.

‘What?’

‘Well …’ he grimaced slightly, ‘you kind of are the enemy. Just like Cambridge is ours.’

The argument I was about to shoot back at him died on my lips, and I slumped back down on my bed with a sigh.

‘Why do I have to meet a girl I really fucking like, who rows as well, and it turns out she’s a fucking light blue? Anyway, whatever,’ I shrugged, because my mood was darkening again, thick and cloying, ‘she’s just a girl. There’ll be more. I’ll get over it.’

Charlie stood up, brushing more cookie off his hoodie, and sat back down on my bed.

‘Mate, I’m sorry, this is fucking shit. But you don’t expect us to believe the “there’ll be more” story, do you?’ He air-quoted exaggeratedly.

‘Charles, there’s nothing I can do. She believes what she wants to believe, and she rows for Cambridge. I met her for an hour. Who cares?’ I added, because perhaps if I convinced them I would be able to convince myself.

I’d make myself believe there hadn’t been a connection and there’d been no spark. That everything I’d felt about her since our first meeting was down to my active imagination and nothing more.

Charlie looked at me, humour gone. ‘You care.’

I shrugged, not meeting his eyes.

---