Page 45 of False Catch

He nods back, and we head inside where the air is thick with pheromones and impending disaster.

What a fucking fantastic weekend.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Reese

Monday afternoon practice shouldn't feel this good after a full day of classes, but here we are, flying through our final piece like we've been training for months instead of weeks.

"And... let it run," I call through the cox box.

Eight oars drop to the water in perfect unison, the boat gliding forward on momentum alone. The late afternoon sun breaks through clouds that have been threatening rain all day, painting the lake gold.

"Holy shit," Zane pants from five-seat. "Did we just—"

"Break this morning's record?" Tyler finishes, checking his SpeedCoach. "Yeah. By another two seconds. That's... statistically improbable."

"Improbable but not impossible," Gray says from stroke, turning to look at me with something like wonder in his eyes.

Coach Torres makes notes from the launch, her expression unreadable behind sunglasses. She's been quieter this afternoon, less critical. Which either means we're doing better or she's gathering ammunition.

"Let's take it home," I say, trying to keep the giddiness out of my voice. "Easy pressure, rate eighteen."

The paddle back to the dock is smooth, relaxed. I can hear Beckett and Bo talking about their Sports Marketing exam tomorrow, Jackson grunting responses to something Eli's saying about their Biomechanics lab. Normal college shit, except we're doing it while moving a boat like we share one brain.

After we rack the boat, Torres approaches. "Callahan, a word?"

The guys tense immediately, that protective clusterfuck thing they do without realizing, but I wave them off.

"I'll catch up."

Gray lingers longest, only moving when Bo physically drags him toward the team room.

"Your crew is performing well," Torres says once we're alone.

"Thank you."

"Too well." She removes her sunglasses, fixing me with a sharp stare. "In my experience, rapid improvement like this comes from one of two things: performance enhancing drugs or designation dynamics."

My blood runs cold. "We're not doping."

"No, I don't think you are." She steps closer. "Which leaves option two."

"I don't—"

"I'm not here to ruin your season, Callahan. I'm here to keep it from ruining itself. Whatever is happening between you and those Alphas needs to stay off the university's radar. Understood?"

It's not a threat. It's a warning. Maybe even helpful advice.

"Understood."

She nods and walks away, leaving me standing by the water trying to process what just happened.

"Reese!" Zane calls from the parking lot. "You coming? Tyler's buying coffee to celebrate!"

"I'm not buying for everyone," Tyler protests. "I said I'd buy Reese's coffee because she got us to drop six seconds in one day."

"Same thing," Beckett says. "Where she goes, we follow."