I drop my own on the benches along the wall and let out an empty laugh. “What does it look like?”
He bends, snatching his duffle off the floor, jaw tensed, anger marring his features as he starts toward the door. “Whatever. I’m leaving. This is all yours, too.”
Too. Motherfucker. I step in front of the door, blocking it from him and shaking my head, as my words tumble out angrily. “This is what we’re going to do now, Liam? Every time we see each other, you’re going to act like a fucking toddler and play hide-and-seek?”
He takes a step back, running his hand over his head. “Fuck you, Grey.” Clapping his hands together hard, he begins jumping in place, loosening up his muscles before squaring off to me. “Fine. You want to do this. Right now?” He holds his fists up, ready to brawl. “Let’s go. But you won’t get lucky and get through this fight with just a bruise on your jaw.”
“Liam!” I bellow. “Are you fucking kidding me with this? I’m not fighting you, dickhead. I want to apologize and put this shit behind us.”
He throws his arms in the air, scoffing at what I’m saying, but I don’t stop, my chest rising harder as my voice roars from my throat.
“Quit pouting and act like a man. Get the fuck over it!”
“Goddammit!” he growls, colliding his fist into the wall. He slaps his other hand against it a few times before turning to look at me. “You got the fucking girl who you don’t deserve, and no matter how hard you try, you’ll never…fucking…deserve her. I don’t want your apology, Grey. I want you to walk away. Do the right thing by her.”
What the fuck? All the words feel slow to process. Walk away? Why the hell would he ever think I would do that? He has to know I’ll never do that.
My brows draw together as I stare at him. “No. Never.”
He takes a few steps toward me. Hurt, anger, desperation cling to his features. My eyes search his, hoping for some kind of acknowledgement that he knows what he’s asking is impossible or unreasonable, but all I see is contempt.
“Liam…you can’t ask that of me.”
“Then I’ll race you for it,” he rushes out, pointing to the boats.
“What?” I can’t help myself as a shocked laugh leaves my body as I ask it.
“I’ll fucking race you—for her. Not like a trophy…but for her. You win, and I’ll shut the fuck up and wait until you mess it up, then I’ll scrape her off the floor and try and put her back together… I win, and you walk away. Let her hate you because she should. She deserves better.”
A long exhale leaves me as I run my hands through my hair, turning around. Everything he’s saying feels like a punch to the fucking gut. The kid I grew up with—the one I consider a brother—fucking hates me. That much is clear. My mind is scrambling as I look out to the boats and then back at him. I almost can’t believe I say what I do.
“Okay.”
His eyes falter for a second, before he regains his composure. I don’t think he thought I would agree either. We stand staring for a beat more before turning and gearing up without a sound. What the fuck am I doing? What is he doing? He’ll never beat me, he knows that.
Neither of us even change, keeping our sweats on as we grab our individual oars and sculls. He takes the far left of the dock, and I take the right, as we walk down to the river, tension compounding between us.
“From the tree to the bridge,” he calls out, pointing out the parameters.
I nod, then say back flatly, “I qualified for the Olympic rowing team. I didn’t tell you. Guess I probably should have. But you should know that going in.”
Seems only fair.
His mouth drops open to say something, then shuts as he looks down for a moment. When his head lifts, I see the same determined and stubborn guy I’ve known my whole life.
“Then I should be taken straight onto the team once I beat you.”
A part of me wishes you could beat me. Then I wouldn’t feel like such an asshole right now, knowing that I’m going to win her a second time. Lowering down, we lock our oars in and row out, almost side by side. Fuck, stop this shit, Grey.
“We don’t have to do this, Liam,” I call out over the few feet that separate us.
We slow as we approach our starting line, letting the boats get evened out, and Liam looks at me. “Yes, I do. You shouldn’t have her.” And you should? Fuck that.
He lifts his wrist, setting a timer, and fixes his eyes forward as I yell, “But I do because it’s what she wants. She doesn’t need you to protect her. I didn’t fucking bully her, Liam. My heart bled out all over her…Donovan chose for herself. You just can’t handle that.”
He refuses to look at me, the muscles in his jaw working overtime. I’m right, and he knows it. She doesn’t need him to be her knight in shining armor and save her.
“I’m her choice, Liam. Eyes wide fucking open.”
“No! You aren’t winning.”
My chest is already heaving with the anger I’m feeling. Why won’t he listen? Fuck! My hands grip my oars as I stare at his profile, hating that we’ve come to this. Turning to look at me, he sneers, “You’re so fucking arrogant, all this time and you still aren’t even thinking of her.”
“I’m always thinking of her.”
We both glance at his watch as the first set of warning beeps begins, adrenaline beginning to kick in. We’re competitors—this is natural for us—but usually we’re on the same side. His eyes dart to mine as we lean into position, waiting for the signal, and he hits me with his words, “What have you ever sacrificed for her?” Three… Two… One… The last beeps ring as he says the last word. “Nothing.”
The bell sounds and we hit our oars down on the water, straining our thighs as we push away to dig in harder and pick up speed faster. What the fuck does he know? I would give up everything for her. Always.
My arms move faster, finding a rhythm charged by my need to win. To win her. Each stroke takes me faster and faster until my boat gains feet, not just inches. Even then, I still don’t stop pushing for more, wanting to make him eat every goddamn word. I want this loss to hurt because she’s mine. What have you ever sacrificed for her? His words begin to ring out in my mind, over and over, as I leave him behind.
I’m so far ahead that I can see the back of his head, and the unevenness of his rowing as he desperately tries to go faster. And before I can process what I’m doing, my arms begin to move slower, rowing once to his every two strokes, then once for every three, until he’s not just caught up but passing me, just as we go under the bridge.
I hear him roar, but I keep slowing down, turning myself around, and head back to the boathouse. I feel numb. I’m not even sure why I did it. I just know that I can’t keep hurting her, and this makes her sad. Not having Liam in her life makes her sad. This I have to fix.
Slowing at the wooden steps, I reach out to tie off the boat and climb out, ascending the ladder steps, shaking the water away that’s soaked into my sweatshirt. I make my way back inside the boathouse, letting out a frustrated growl. We’re fucking acting like children, and all I want is my goddamn friend back. I need to talk to Donovan.