Page 12 of You Float My Boat

I couldn’t afford to lose focus. I was not in a position to get nothing done. Right now, time was very much of the essence. You get my drift?

I was heading into a long stretch consisting of the Boat Race and finals, and it was debatable what was more important.

Boat Race training was about to go from hard to brutal. To compete in it on adrenaline alone would be impossible, even for someone who didn’t crave sleep more than air – unlike me.

It was the reason I’d sought out Violet in the first place – to stop me from getting sucked into Evie and her inevitable game playing again. I didn’t trust myselfnot to. But I clearly hadn’t thought through my plan properly, because kissing Violet had not been a distraction I’d foreseen and now I didn’t know which was worse. Having to deal with Evie or trying not to kiss Violet again.

It was alarming how much I wanted to.

It was the reason I hadn’t texted her since I’d left her outside her halls.

Yesterday, after an exhausting day of not enough sleep, too much thinking and a savage land training session in the gym I’d almost convinced myself I was panicking about Evie over nothing. I could handle her.

I’d decided to pull the plug on the entire operation, if only so I could go back to functioning like a normal human being again. I’d figure something else out.

Except Evie had been waiting for me outside the Tank.

For a split second I saw the girl I’d once hopelessly loved waiting for me, her fingers linked together in front of her. Then I remembered the time I’d spotted her waiting for Dave Chamberlain after rugby practice, right when we broke up the second time, and my heart hardened again.

‘Can we talk?’ she’d asked.

‘Nope,’ I’d replied, and jogged straight past her.

I knew she’d never attempt to catch me. Evie and cardio weren’t friends.

Therefore, instead of pulling the plug, I’d gone in search of Violet first thing this morning – well, first thing after training, breakfast, and my Nuclear and Particle Physics tutorial. My first class with Evie wastomorrow, so I had until then to come up with something believable, though it was anyone’s guess whether it would happen.

Swiping my beanie from my desk, I pulled it on and eased open my bedroom door, listening for any sound of my housemates, specifically the largest, noisiest one.

Do you know how hard it is to avoid someone you live and train with all day every day?

Very. It’s very hard.

I’d spent most of the past week holding my breath in anticipation of any questions about Violet. But as luck would have it Brooks had been too busy with the beginning of term work chaos to have asked me anything at all, and maybe if I crossed my fingers really hard, he’d have forgotten about the matter entirely. He wasn’t the most perceptive member of our household as it was, so it was possible I’d earned myself a little grace period before I had any explaining to do.

I walked into the kitchen to find Oz standing over a shepherd’s pie, though standing was generous seeing as his nose was almost brushing the mashed potato.

‘What are you doing?’

‘What’s this?’ he asked without peering around.

‘Shepherd’s pie. What does it look like?’

‘Did you make it?’

‘Yes, it’s for dinner …’ I swiped the fork he’d been holding ready to dig in, and threw it into the sink, ‘… not lunch. I expect it to be here when I get back.’

He stood up, his thick black brows knitting together, and reached for the large bag of crisps he’d clearly been eating before he found something a little moreappetizing. His fist was still inside the bag when he opened the fridge door and peered inside.

‘Where are you going?’ he asked.

‘Um … I have to …’ I peered down at the pieces of paper I was holding. My rucksack was still on the kitchen table, exactly where I’d dumped it earlier, and I shoved them inside to hide the evidence before Oz noticed anything. The guilt churned in my stomach again. ‘Where’s Brooks?’

‘Lectures.’

Snatching up my body warmer, I looped my arms through it and zipped it up. I should be running out the door before I did something stupid, like confess what had happened. But also, if I didn’t talk to someone soon, I might explode or have a serious mental breakdown.

Like Brooks, Oz had been one of my best friends since we were thirteen years old. He was usually good for a bit of advice, as long as he was listening.

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