Page 13 of Crew Girl

He took a deliberate step back. “I’m Josh Regis. Watch yourself.”

He wanted her to watch? She’d watch. She watched as he turned on his heel, strode toward an enormous cedar beam where he shot finger pistols at its shiny new plaque. It read:

REGIS BOATHOUSE

Oops.

She got a flat on her bike ride home. In the middle of nowhere. Any remaining tendrils of triumph she’d felt after Coach had tried out her suggestions were long gone.

A truck pulled up beside her.

Cam.

Of course it was. Like she needed reminding that the whole team had seen Josh put her in her place.

He rolled down his window. Stared at her bike. “Tire’s toast,” he said. “You won’t be able to fix that.”

“Thanks. Good to know.”

He rolled his eyes, got out of the truck, put her bike in the back. “Get in.”

After riding in silence for a while, Cam broke it. “I saw Josh ream you out earlier. Or, from another perspective”—he shot her a quick smile—“you reaming him out.”

Sometimes having no filter was a bad thing. “Not my smartest move.”

He shrugged. “Easton Prep’s a hard crowd.” He glanced across to make sure she was listening. “It was fun. Mixing things up.”

Yeah. She’d thought so. Not as fun as rowing, but…

She pointed out her house and Cam eased the truck into the drive.

“Everyone’s going to the Dock Party tonight,” Cam said as she unbuckled her seat belt.

Yeah, no. Partying anywhere near Liam or, god forbid, Josh, was not going to happen. She’d be better off breaking into the boathouse again and getting expelled. “I heard.”

“You should go. Seriously.”

“I’ll think about it.” She got her backpack and helmet from the footwell and opened the door.

“I have an extra wristband,” Cam said, all nonchalant, like he didn’t care one way or another if she showed up, then he took her phone out of her backpack’s side pocket, held it up to her face to unlock it, and started tapping. “Text me if you want it.”

Hmm. Maybe not so nonchalant after all. Did he… like her?

“Go on, git.” Cam shooed her out of the cab. “I’ve got things to do.”

She snorted. Boys were so annoying. Cute. Some of them. But mostly annoying. Even when they put their numbers in your phone and pretended they didn’t care if you met them at a party. Which, weirdly, made her want to go.

Her mom offered to drive her because she had gone out and gotten herself a new job starting with a shift in the evening. Well. An old job. The one she’d done a million years ago at The Crab Shack when she’d lived here. A night at home licking her wounds sounded better, so she declined. But once she was on her own, it wasn’t better.

So she did what every girl in a similar quandary did in her position. Phoned a friend. Her only friend. But still.

Juliet promptly invited herself over, said she’d drive Teagan to the party, then dove into her closet to pick a suitable outfit. “Cam might be a FAID,” Juliet said, giving yet another dress the side-eye. “But he deserves better than this.”

Juliet was insanely rich but, weirdly, not at all snobby. She didn’t say a word about the house, which was definitely more shabby than chic despite her mom’s best efforts.

“How about this one?” Juliet asked, holding up a tiny form-fitting dress Teagan never would have picked for a date she wanted to go on let alone a meh invitation to use Cam’s extra wristband.

Before Teagan could say absolutely not, Juliet’s phone announced, “You have a message.”