Page 24 of Crew Girl

His attention level shot up a few notches. Teagan had talked about him to Juliet?

“Yes, lover boy, you’re on her radar.”

Did nothing escape her attention?

“She’s frustrated for you, that you don’t push for yourself more on the team. Ryder’s poking his teeny-tiny head above the parapet. You should talk to Coach Hayden—make a case for yourself.”

Cam wasn’t entirely sure if she was goading him into the colosseum to amuse herself when he was inevitably slaughtered or if she was genuinely telling him it was time to put on his big boy pants.

“I just might do that,” he said, with more confidence than he was feeling.

“Good.” She gave him a shove. “Go find him now. I just saw him duck into the library.”

He turned back and gave her a nod of thanks. “Remind me to call you next time I need a tough love talk.”

“Will do, pleb. Will do.”

He hesitated. “Do you want to meet up later? Debrief?”

She curled her lip. “God, no.” She took on a lofty air. “I’m off to spread my largesse elsewhere. Something tells me Teagan’s mother could do with a little insider information.”

Five minutes later, Cam walked out of the library, stunned. Coach was giving him the stroke seat. Juliet had been right. Sticking his neck out had been worth it. No guillotine in sight. He headed home to help his dad. Juliet’s car would look brand-new when she got it back. He’d put the final polish on himself.

TEAGAN

There were only so many breathing techniques a girl could use to calm herself down when she was about to cox a make-or-break race—the alumni versus the students.

It should’ve been a ragtag crew of old weaklings against a perfectly synchronized herd of stallions, but from where she was sitting? The tables were flipped.

Cam was sulking for… reasons. He refused to say. Baloo couldn’t pick a mood. Perry was distracted by his phone. Ryder was trying to bore holes into the back of Josh’s head. Josh, back in stroke seat, was smug as ever, but edgy. Pumped to beat his dad. Poor ol’ Crabcatcher was even more nervous than usual.

Teagan got it. All the nerves.

The alums, their opponents, were Olympians and world record holders. Champions chomping at the bit to show the whippersnappers they still had it.

By the looks of it, they did.

Josh’s dad, surprise, surprise, was leading the group of eight down from the boathouse in a series of precise moves that reminded her of the military parades countries with evil dictators put on as a show of might.

Whatever.

Teagan adjusted the volume on her cox box and gave her crew a smile just as the alum team did a picture-perfect standing shove off from the dock.

“We’re screwed, aren’t we?” Quaid asked.

No one wanted to hear the obvious answer to that one. “Josh… I was thinking, we start with a spring, drop down, then back up for the last five hundred meters.”

She braced herself for the pushback, surprised not to get any.

“Good plan.” His blue eyes met hers. He wanted to win this. Together.

She ripped her eyes away and repeated the plan to the rest of the team who all gave her nods or “aye ayes” of acknowledgment. Apart from Cam. He’d been glowering all morning. So long as he rowed in sync with everyone else, she would leave him alone.

The horn sounded for them to get in place at the starting line.

Oars were at the ready. Muscles were tensed in advance of the starter horn. Eight pairs of eyes were trained on Teagan.

Right. She could do this. She’d won this cox seat fair and square. They would beat the alumni, too.