“Don’t fall in,” Cash shouted as they walked away.
And then it was just the two of them on the bridge together, snuggled up next to each other, commenting on weak strokes or racers who’d managed to overtake the boats in front of them. Eliot was the last bridge on the course, and that meant the rowers’ bodies would be nearing the limits of their endurance. Lungs and legs burning, arms aching, sheer willpower and the burning need not to let their teammates down the only thing keeping them going. This was the point at which rowing became almost entirely mental.
“The only good race pace is a suicide pace,” Denny intoned, quoting one of the motivational posters that hung in their boathouse in front of the first line of rowing machines.
“And today looks like a good day to die.” Rafi finished the quote and they bumped fists, grinning at each other. The wind kicked up and cut through his layers like a blade. “God, is it getting colder?”
“I’ll keep you warm, baby,” Denny teased, slinging an arm around his shoulders. Rafi leaned into the embrace as they waited for the next set of rowers to approach the bridge, one boat swinging wide to pass through the far arch to avoid a collision.
When their phones lit up with Where are you? texts from Vinnie, Austin and Bob, they decided to head over to where the Carlisle alums had a tent set up. Cash and Steph had packed blankets that they’d planned on sitting on, but when Rafi and Denny found them on the riverbank, they were huddled under the blanket for warmth. When Denny held a blanket out toward him, hanging from one arm like a matador’s cape, Rafi took the invitation to share it with pleasure.
“Gonna be a long, cold day, huh?” he said in Denny’s ear after they’d hit the grass, cross-legged next to each other, the blanket wrapped tight around their shoulders. He ignored the approving wink and smile Steph was trying to deliver from where she and Cash sat to their right.
Denny’s left hand dropped to Rafi’s thigh, long fingers curling around to rest on Rafi’s inseam.
Rafi squirmed through the rest of the day’s races, sweating from time to time and nearly bursting away from Denny as if piston-driven when Cash asked him if he wanted to come along to pick up sandwiches for lunch. Rafi gave his dick a stern talking to as they walked the neighborhood streets, until they found a sandwich shop far enough from the river not to have a massive line out the door for food or bathrooms.
They cheered all afternoon, except for when they booed good-naturedly at the passing of every Harvard boat. The weight of peak rowing talent might have shifted in recent years to the West Coast teams, according to general wisdom, but Harvard had dominated rowing for so many decades, they still came in for the worst of the grudges.
After the final race, instead of fighting the crowds at the bars, everyone headed back to Cash and Steph’s apartment for grilling and hanging out. With no morning workout the next day, and no stress on Rafi’s part about getting busted allowing underage drinking, he overindulged. The sheer luxury of being able to not pay attention to how many beers he drank went to his head. And when it came up in conversation that Rafi was the only one of the group who’d never seen the Lord of the Rings trilogy, he’d happily fallen asleep on the couch with Denny leaning up against his legs from a seat on the floor, to the sounds of hobbits trekking across Middle Earth.
An aching head was no excuse for missing races, so they were up and out the door in the early morning hours again. At least they got to skip the hills-of-death run, though, which might have killed him with the hangover he was sporting.
He could have strangled Austin when his suitemate showed up to meet them with his bag full of cowbells.
Cowbells. For ten hours.
Austin and Vinnie had spent part of the day close to the start of the race and had a terrific story about an eight nearly running down a sculler who’d been directed to cross the river’s traffic in between boats. It happened every year that some scullers moved too slow at Magazine Beach, aka Clusterfuck Central. Scary stuff.
They yelled themselves hoarse, shouting for Carlisle alums and the women’s team boats. And Rafi nearly launched himself over the railing when he heard the shoreline announcer call out the name of a team stroking past the boat ahead of them in the Men’s Championship Fours.
“Lincoln Park Boat Club, having an excellent race…”
He couldn’t make out the features of any of the rowers, and wished he’d done a better job of staying in touch with Aya so he’d know who was racing.
Carlisle’s varsity boat was one of the last to start in the Men’s Collegiate Eights. Their group had abandoned the bridge again for their spot by the alumni tents on the bank.
“Did he say Carlisle?” someone called out minutes before they expected to see the school’s dark green boat and green-and-white striped paddles skimming across the water.
“Holy shit!” Austin jumped to his feet, ringing his cowbell like mad, and for the first time all day, Rafi didn’t want to kill him. “They passed two boats!”
Their guys were having an excellent fucking race. Rafi spotted Ted in the stroke seat, driving the pace for the rest of the team with his exquisite control. Even Boomer in the engine room—the four less technically perfect, but brutally powerful rowers—was still showing good form as the Carlisle boat pulled even farther ahead.
It took forever to get the official results of the race, until they were heading home from the river. The wait was worth it.
“This is awesome.” Denny crowed his excitement. “We’ve got a guaranteed entry for next year after finishing so well, and we can shoot for two more in the lottery. If we have a good race, by the time we’re seniors, we’ll have multiple boats without the draw.”
Lots of spectators and teams headed home on Sunday night, including Rafi’s suitemates, who’d driven in together. But Rafi and Denny had decided to wait for Monday morning to return. Knowing the bar scene would be less chaotic, they voted to hit the town that night, their older friends who had Monday morning jobs sticking it out for the night.
Even with fewer people on the streets, postrace celebrations were raucous. With three hundred thousand college students and crew fans, he guessed it had to be, but still…Rafi was caught off guard.
“Danke schoen, darling, danke schoen…” Cash swung himself in a drunken circle around a lamppost, warbling at the top of his lungs as their group walked back to his and Steph’s apartment.
More than a couple pints had been downed in a neighborhood pub after the last race of the day ended. Denny had been asked for his ID, which Rafi knew was an impeccable fake, and the bouncer had waved him in. Plus, Steph had brought hot chocolate for all of them and she spiked it with peppermint schnapps upon request all day.
Walking Boston meant no need for a designated driver, but Rafi had held himself to a glass of champagne. Most of Denny’s glass too, actually, since Denny didn’t care for champagne, which was weird because champagne was awesome. Maybe the group needed a designated walker, someone to make sure no one accidentally wandered into traffic.
Cash was still warbling his heart out to Steph.
“Is that supposed to be romantic?” he leaned over to ask Denny as Cash swung himself around the lamppost again, head dropped back to direct his tuneful display at Steph, who shook her head and collected her boyfriend by the elbow.
“Come here before you hurt yourself,” she said, laughing. Cash grabbed her hand and tugged her into a shuffling waltz as he led their group down the sidewalk. After a particularly clumsy spin, the two of them ended up pressed close together as they staggered to remain upright, Cash whispering in Steph’s ear before repeating himself to the group.
“My girl has a banging bod, y’all.” Drunk Cash had morphed into some kind of Southern boy. He yelped as Steph whacked him in the arm. “Which is totally not objectifying her because she’s also wicked smart and really competent.”
“Dude.” Their tall friend,
Tom, didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was laughing at Cash as he walked slightly apart from his smaller, dark-haired boyfriend. “You’re cruisin’ for a bruisin’.”
“But she is. Totally. Banging and competent.”
“Thank you, baby. You’re the best. I love you.” She stood on tiptoes and kissed him on the mouth.
Cash lifted his head from the kiss after a moment and stared down at her with the glow of adoration, and maybe something a little more devilish, in his gaze. “I know.”
Him saying that was clearly an inside joke, because Steph shook her head like she’d heard it a thousand times before, but it still made her smile. “You’re such a dork.”
“Also true.”
Staying with Cash and Steph for both nights was great, because there was no way Rafi had the money for a hotel room. Not that there was a hotel room to be had within fifty miles of the Charles River, he guessed. If there was, he knew Denny would have been happy to pay for it, because he didn’t feel any guilt about spending his parents’ money. In Denny’s mind, his job was to work hard at school, both in class and on the team, and his parents were his employers, giving him a decent wage for all that effort.
Weird as hell, but whatever. It worked for them. He thought it was strange that Denny’s parents never came to see him race, but Denny didn’t seem to care. The only family member he got excited about visiting was Cash, and Cash and Steph had made it clear last year that they’d be at every sporting event within day-tripping range if either Denny or Rafi were competing. They’d been two of a handful of cheering fans at the earlier, small fall races, and were excited for the season to pick up again in the spring.
Cash and Steph also operated with the philosophy that visitors stayed with them, of course, even if their hosting abilities were limited to offering a couch and an air mattress. Having grown up with his sisters, who opened their home to friends at the drop of a hat, Rafi was perfectly comfortable with this.
Privacy, however, was indeed rather hard to come by.
“One last beer before we go home. C’mon, Steph.” Cash was at the corner, tugging Steph by the hands to the opposite end of the block from the three-flat where they shared a one-bedroom apartment.
“You are not going to be happy about that tomorrow when you have to get up for work.” Steph tried to put her foot down.
“But I wanna ride the bull.”
“No way in hell are you getting on a mechanical bull when you are this wasted.”
“Awww, Steph.”
“You can watch the drunk people whose girlfriends don’t give a shit about their necks ride the bull.”
“Woo hoo!” Cash punched the air with a fist and did a little victory dance.
Rafi exchanged a look with Denny. He’d had enough of bars packed tight with drunk people, and any place with a rodeo bull was probably not his kind of joint to begin with. “Guys, I think we’re gonna call it a night.”
Steph pulled him to the side as the rest of the group were hugging each other goodbye. “Fair warning. This isn’t going to take long.”
No way was he discussing sex stuff with his coach’s girlfriend. Even if Cash was more friend than coach and Rafi had known Steph for two years now, just no. Nope. Nuh-uh. Also, he was definitely not thinking about sex stuff anyway. Double nope. “We’ll probably be asleep by the time you guys get back.”
She smirked at him. Smirked. “Likely story.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, lifting his chin high over her short head and staring loftily off into the distance. As if he and Denny hadn’t spent the day openly snuggling up on each other.
“Go get ’em, killer.” She punched him in the arm before sticking two fingers in her mouth and ripping off a piercing whistle. “Let’s go, cowboy.”
“Yeehaw.” Cash whooped, and then the four of them headed off down the block, Tom and Reese having clearly been corralled into going along to the cowboy bar for at least a little while.
Cars and cabs still rolled by on the street, but, with no other pedestrians in sight, the sidewalk suddenly felt conspicuously quiet.
He wondered if Denny was thinking about how long they would have until Cash and Steph got back, and where would be the best place to have sex in case they didn’t finish fast enough.
“Did Tom and Reese seem weird to you?” Denny was staring after their departed friends.
Apparently not.
“I don’t really know them all that well,” he said. The couple had visited Chicago twice while Cash lived there—the second time to help him and Steph pack and move their combined households to Boston—and he’d stayed with them briefly when he’d come out to Massachusetts for his interview at Carlisle. “They were kind of quiet, maybe? But I feel like Tom’s always kind of quiet.”
“Yeah, but Reese isn’t, and they were being weird. They’re normally more touchy-feely than that.”
“Maybe they just didn’t want to deal with surprises in a big crowd of drunks.” Boston was definitely a liberal town, but even so. Of course, it didn’t hurt that between Tom, Cash, Rafi and Denny, they had four really tall, big guys. Steph and Reese on their own might have been targets for whatever kind of hooligan crap drunk dudes got up to in crowds—and after growing up watching the Taste of Chicago go from a fun family weekend to an event that practically needed the National Guard called out to maintain order, Rafi had no trust in crowd behavior—but the six of them together wouldn’t be a much of a draw for trouble.
“Maybe.” Denny turned back to him.
And licked his lips.
All Rafi could think of was what that tongue, those lips, that mouth would feel like on his dick.
“Um, what?”
Denny smirked at him, the jerk. He tipped his head toward the end of the block where Cash and Steph’s apartment was located. “Home?”
Rafi nodded. The walk down the block was silent, the sidewalks darker than they were in Chicago. Denny and he were walking close together without saying a word, elbows jostling each other every few steps.
While he waited for Denny to unlock the apartment door, he blamed his heavier breathing on the two flights they’d had to walk up to get to Cash’s unit.
He knew it was bullshit, but he blamed the stairs anyway.
Inside, he avoided looking at Denny, grabbing his duffle bag and heading to the bathroom. They might only have an hour, but there were some things he didn’t want to skip. He pissed, brushed his teeth and gave himself an intimate wipe-down with one of the washcloths. Then he changed into his sleep pants, which didn’t do anything to hide the fact that he was mostly hard, had been ever since realizing he and Denny were going to be alone together. Something about being away from their normal places made him shiver with anticipation while he cleaned up. All the while, Rafi was aware of listening to the noises of Denny moving around in the living room, doing some of the same things. When he opened the bathroom door and Denny was waiting, Rafi turned his bare chest a little bit less to the side than was needed to squeeze by him without touching. The brush of Denny’s body against his made his breath catch.
He dropped his duffle bag back by the couch and debated lying down. Pretending like he was going to go to sleep, same as he would with any other teammate. But of course Denny wasn’t like anyone else at all.
And Rafi was done making him wait.
When Denny came out of the bathroom, Rafi was standing in the middle of the room. Waiting.
Denny didn’t say a word. Simply locked gazes with him and walked right into Rafi’s body until Rafi had to take a step back and brace himself. Denny’s arm was a bar behind his waist, and his lips were on Rafi’s like he could only find his next breath inside Rafi’s mouth. Their teeth bumped, pinching Rafi’s lip until he turned his head and grabbed the back of Denny’s neck with a hand, forcing him to tip his own head back.
; Rafi dropped his mouth to Denny’s throat, sucking on the delicate skin at the base of his neck until a moan rumbled through the throat under Rafi’s lips.
“Yes, please.”
“Please what?” he lifted his mouth long enough to ask, wondering what the answer would be.
The scrape of a key in the lock had them leaping apart from each other like scalding water had been spilled between them.
“Sorry, dudes.” Steph’s voice was an even bigger sign of trouble than the fact that she and Cash had returned so quickly from the bar. She called out into the hallway. “Get inside, Cash. Now.”
“Is everything okay?” Rafi stepped closer to the door, worried, but she shook her head like she didn’t need any help.
“Yeah. This guy at the bar grabbed my ass while Cash was in the bathroom, and after I told him to fuck off, he did it again. So I punched him. But I didn’t do it fast enough, and Mr. Pees Like Lightning here saw what happened. So now he’s ready to fucking rumble and I am done, done, done with this night.”
It took her a half hour of talking Cash off the ledge to get him to calm down, which he only did when Steph snapped at him that she didn’t need a knight in shining armor, thank you very much. She just needed them to go to fucking bed, please, which sounded great to Rafi, who had spent most of the half hour trying not to rub his balls because they ached. The couple said good night and closed the door to their room, leaving Rafi and Denny alone in the living room.
Rafi took the couch. Denny had already stretched out on the air mattress they’d laid out on the floor parallel to the couch, his eyes closed and breathing even. Apparently the guy could go to sleep in sixty seconds or less. That was okay, because Denny had curled up on his side facing Rafi, and if he was asleep, then Rafi could stare at him while he fell asleep. He never allowed himself the freedom to look at Denny the way he wanted, never wanting to make a big deal about it. Now he could indulge, and Rafi took full advantage of the moment. Denny’s mouth could look pouty when he was awake, but asleep, it was soft and almost innocent looking. The vertical lines that sometimes appeared between his straight brows, darker than his blond hair, vanished too in sleep. He looked as young as the day Rafi had met him, except for the breadth of his shoulders and the thick muscles of his arm where it fell over the blanket.
Level Hands: Bend or Break, Book 4 Page 17
