He glances over at me, one brow lifting. “Careful. Compliments like that are going to go straight to my head.”
I smile. “I’m just giving credit where it’s due.”
We round the final buoy, the dock coming into view. Chad is jumping up and down with the enthusiasm of a man who definitely gets paid too much to supervise adults in boats.
“You’re going to gloat about this for hours, aren’t you?” I ask.
“Hours?” Rowan switches to rowing with one hand, because why not. “Try years.”
We glide past the last marker—smooth, and annoyingly perfect.
The dock erupts in cheers.
Chad blows his whistle. “And that’s a win for Team Rowessa!”
“Kill me,” Rowan mutters, looking physically pained.
I turn around in my seat, breathless and flushed in a way that has nothing to do with rowing. “Admit it. You had fun.”
He looks at me.
Really looks.
Not the sarcastic version. Just him, stripped of all the polished edges.
“I forgot what it felt like,” he says quietly, “to be good at something with you.”
My breath catches. I know I should respond with a joke—something snappy, something to keep us from slipping into dangerous territory—but I can’t. I’m too warm. Too aware of him. Too stuck in the feeling of being a team again, even for five minutes.
It’s stupid how much I’ve missed this.
Missed this version of us that didn’t crumble under pressure.
Before I can say anything Rowan drops the oars, leans forward, and kisses me. His mouth moves against mine with a certainty that knocks the air out of my lungs and wipes every coherent thought from my head.
I gasp against him, and everything inside me jolts awake.
My brain fires off warnings because this is reckless and impossible and exactly what I promised myself I would never fall back into. But none of it matters, not when he’s holding me like this and kissing me like he wants something he shouldn’t want.
His mouth is warm, sure, and familiar in a way that shouldn’t feel this good after everything we broke. And suddenly I can’t remember the reasons I built walls, or the speeches I rehearsed, or the boundaries I swore were unbreakable.
And that’s when he grins against my mouth.
My eyes fly open. “Oh no.”
He tips the boat.
We hit the water hard enough that my scream mixes with the splash and Chad yelling something about his clipboard in the background. Cold rushes up my spine, my arms flail, and my lungs forget their job entirely.
Rowan surfaces first, laughing. Actually laughing. His hair is plastered to his forehead, water dripping down his cheekbones, and the smile on his face is so open it makes my chest tighten.
“Y-You’re insane!” I sputter, swiping lake water out of my eyes. “You flipped the boat!”
“I stand by it.”
I float there, blinking through wet lashes, suspended between fury and something dangerously close to joy. I should shove him under the water. I smile instead.
I try to pretend I’m angry when the truth is much worse. I’m laughing. I feel… good. Too good. And it scares me because I know how fast good things can slip, how easily one wrong step can send everything crashing down.
