Page 85 of Oar Than Friends

‘That would be awesome, Mom.’ I hoped she could hear my smile, though I knew it would take a miracle to get my dad on a plane.‘Humans aren’t made to fly, Katey. Or God wouldn’t have invented boats,’had been his reply the one time I’d asked if he’d come and visit me. I didn’t bother arguing about it, because it didn’t matter how much they missed me, he would never leave his boat. ‘I haven’t been selected yet though.’

‘You’ll get selected,’ she replied, with all the reassurance of a mother who knows best. ‘Okay, sweetheart, I need to get the coffee on.’ There was a clattering in the background and I could picture her in the kitchen of our small house looking out to the bay, watching the lights of the fishing boats bobbing on the water. It was five a.m. where they were, and the sun wouldn’t be rising for another couple of hours. ‘We got your gifts by the way,they’re under the tree. You shouldn’t have spent your money on us.’

I tutted softly. ‘It was nothing expensive, I just thought you’d like them.’

I’d sent them both official C.U.B.C. bobble hats and scarves, because while they might not make it over here, I knew they’d still wear them on race day.

‘Thank you, sweetheart. I love you.’

‘Bye Mom, I love you too. Have a good day.’

‘You too, Katey, my girl. We’re all so proud of you,’ she added, just like she always did. I couldn’t tell whether she’d become so used to saying it that it was now automatic, or she really believed it. Either way, my response was also the same.

‘I know.’ I let out a small laugh as she hung up, and sat down heavily on the bench by the side of the stone steps, suddenly in less of a hurry to get to the library before it closed for Christmas break.

It was one of the few buildings still open, and I’d been spending six hours a day in amongst the stacks of dusty books since the term ended. I was surprised by how busy it had still been for the first week, but the numbers of students in my midst soon dwindled off once the weekend had passed and we’d ventured into the second week. Yesterday marked three days before Christmas, and I’d only seen two other people working on the far side of the library.

When I’d decided not to fly home for the holidays I’d thought it would be the perfect opportunity to focus on my studies, get ahead of the syllabus for the new year, and cram as much information into my brain as I possibly could.

Professor Osmonay hadn’t mentioned my grades slipping again, but I knew it was only a matter of time because since he’d mentioned it, I’d found class harder, and it was taking me longer to learn.

The only short break I’d allowed myself was when term ended two weeks ago, and Imogen had invited Hannah and me home for a couple of days, but even then we’d studied our asses off, outside of eating our body weight in Christmas pies, and training. But they were now cosy with their families – Hannah somewhere in the north of England I could never remember, and Imogen in the Caribbean. And Oz was at home in Oxfordshire; therefore, I’d doubled down on my study time with no distraction.

However, two weeks of my own company was kinda boring. I missed Imogen bursting into my room to divulge her latest piece of gossip, or having her as a study partner, or training with the pair of them. Oz was different – while I was used to him not being around, I hadn’t realized how much I’d relied on his messages or calls to brighten up my day and add the needed spring to my step, but now he was hanging out with his family I didn’t want to disturb him so I’d tried to keep my messages to a minimum. I’d also gotten used to seeing him every week, and now it was coming up to three weeks since we’d been together.

It wasn’t just my body craving him, my heart was too.

I picked up my phone, double checking to see if he’d messaged, but there was nothing since I’d spoken to him after my morning solo training session. I tried not to let my chest cave too much, but it had definitely curled enough that I was tempted to go back upstairs, crawlunder my covers and watch Netflix for the whole day – something I’d promised myself for Christmas.

I was still fighting with standing up and heading to the library, or going back to bed, when I caught a movement in my peripheral vision. I had to rub my eyes to check the figure dressed in his uniform of black, ballcap pulled low and striding boldly across the lawns – blatantly ignoring the signs – was not a mirage.

The very audible gasp I let out had his head snap up to where I was sitting. Just like it always did whenever he spotted me for the first time, a grin spread wide across his face making my heart skip in happiness – I didn’t have much of an ego, but damn if that didn’t give me a boost.

‘What are you doing here?’ Our voices layered over each other, making us both laugh.

Oz stopped in front of me, pulling me to standing and wrapped his arms around me until I was snuggled up against his thick puffa jacket. His eyes roamed around my face in the way they always did, like he was seeing me for the first time, studying me, committing me to memory or, as he once said,‘trying to figure out how it was possible you’ve become even more beautiful’.

His fingers pushed up into my hair, with his arms balanced on my shoulders, and he quickly pressed his lips to mine with a loud smack. ‘Why are you sitting on a bench in the cold? It’s freezing.’

‘I was heading to the library, and I just finished talking to my mom.’ I tilted my head, ‘Oz, what are you doing here?’

‘I came to get you.’

‘Get me? For what?’

‘It’s Christmas, and no one should be alone for Christmas. I’ve left it as long as possible for you to study, but you can do the rest at my home with me.’ His finger gently closed my jaw which had dropped open, and he softly pressed his lips to mine once more. ‘Come on, we need to pack your things.’

‘Oz …’

‘Kate,’ he stepped back, his face as serious and focused as I’d ever seen it, ‘it’s Christmas. If you can honestly say that you’d rather be alone studying in your cold dorm, or the even colder library, then I’ll turn around and drive home once I’ve had a proper kiss from you. But I’m asking you to come and spend Christmas with me and my family.’

My mouth opened again; panic and adrenaline flooding my brain with a thousand thoughts of why I shouldn’t, all of which were silenced when Oz’s warm hands held my face, and his lips found mine once more.

I melted into him as his tongue slipped along mine, warm and soft, taking his time to rediscover me like an explorer returning home after months at sea. His hand dropped for the briefest moment to spin his ballcap around, then resumed its position against my cheek, but closer. Deeper. Never once breaking contact with my lips, almost as though he couldn’t bear to because Oz knew what was needed to make a kiss good.

And boy did he deliver.

Of all his accomplishments, I could safely say that kissing was probably in the top three of his skill set because in less than a second I’d become a molten, liquefied mess.

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