Page 28 of Oar Than Friends

‘I’ll get over it.’

‘Have you spoken to her?’ asked Brooks, still in his chair by my desk.

‘No, I was too mad.’

‘What’s Olly said?’

While Olly might not be an Oxford student, he was an honorary member of our house and the only person at Cambridge who was not considered one of the enemy. His brother had been in the same house as Charlie at school, and had spent enough time with him growing up that it was easy for him to slot into our group whenever he came to visit. And when he wasn’t playing rugby, Olly would come and support our races, though this was more likely down to the socializing aspect than actually watching any rowing, but we appreciated it all the same.

‘Nothing much.’

Brooks stood up and stretched his arms over his head. The ceiling in our little cottage was so low that he could brush his fingers across the beams.

‘Do you know anything about her?’

I tried not to wince. While I’d been stewing in a filthy mood about Kate Astley, I’d also been curious. In what wasn’t my proudest moment, for the first time ever I’d done a little Google research, though I’d limited it to rowing achievements only. Anything personal she’d wanted me to know she could tell me herself, just like she had before, not that it was likely I’d get the chance again.

But what I’d found surprising, and had only made me more mad, was that nothing I found could convince meshe was anything less than perfect or that she didn’t wholly deserve the scholarship. Why couldn’t Oxford have got there first?

‘She’s a decent cox. She won the east-coast championships with her team last spring, her boat was four lengths ahead. She seems to have done well around the junior circuits over there, but I couldn’t find anything to say she’s competed internationally. Won a lot though.’ I shrugged, trying to stay as nonchalant as possible, though the way Charlie and Brooks were now staring down at me trying hard not to smile, told me I’d failed.

Truth be told, I’d spent the best part of yesterday looking for anything I could find on Kate Astley, again trying and failing to convince myself I was scoping out the competition and nothing more.

‘Reckon she’ll get onto Blue or Blondie?’

‘Dunno, doubt Blue though, she’s only a first year. She could maybe be Blondie reserve but depends on who else they’ve got trying out.’ I shrugged again, ‘Who was the Blondie cox last year?’

‘The girl with the red hair?’

Brooks nodded, ‘Yeah, her. Name was Sophie something, I think? Also American.’

‘Yes! She was third year, she went back to the States to do her Masters. To Princeton, I think.’ Charlie snapped his fingers. ‘Actually, might have been Stanford.’

Brooks shook his head, ‘No, so maybe it’ll be your American taking her place.’

‘She’s not my American. She’s not my anything.’

‘Well, we can cross that bridge when the time comes. Maybe she won’t make any crew, then all this will ceaseto be an issue.’ Charlie shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his tracksuit pants. ‘But, given how much you’ve “researched” her, I’d bet you’re already trying to figure out a way around it in case she does.’

I was about to throw out some sarcastic retort when Brooks stood up. ‘I agree. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go back to my essay on Japanese Imperialism and the response to the West. Thanks for the tea, chaps.’

His headphones were placed back on his ears as he sauntered out and into his room, leaving both mine and his doors wide open.

‘What are you doing now?’ I looked at Charlie who was flicking through one of my books on Roman archaeology.

‘Not writing an essay on Japan, or whatever it was. I have a call with my study group, then we have training at four.’ He put the book down, turning just before he reached the hallway. ‘Maybe you could be in a better mood by then.’

He was right, I couldn’t be in a bad mood forever, though I knew I could give it a good try. I might have a reputation for being competitive – or ruthless, as seemed to be the preferred term – and I put in the hours to win, but my nature was generally easygoing. Around people that knew me, that was.

It hadn’t been the greatest chat in the world, but I did feel a little better than I had before they’d invited themselves in. I picked up my phone, completely ignoring the voice in my head that said I needed to forget about Kate Astley, and instead scrolled back through the messages we’d exchanged during the week because I was a glutton for punishment.

I grinned at the message she’d sent teasing me about my classics degree, and my smile was just as wide as it had been when I’d read it the first time. Flirty, funny, smart. She was really fucking smart. I was also a complete sucker for a girl who could serve up a healthy dose of sarcasm.

She’d been wrong; she wasexactlythe girl I thought she was. Sweet, smart, loyal.

We had so much in common, we’d talked so openly and easily with each other, and that was before I discovered she rowed too.

Fucking hell.

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