“Yup. You wouldn’t mind tossing him in the lake for me, would you?”
He laughed again. “Sure, we can give it a try.”
All of a sudden, I realized I was smiling. I was even flirting… sort of. With one of the Princes, no less.
“You know what?” I said. “I think I actually will come tomorrow. I can bring my friends, right?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Great.” My smile grew wider.
I wasn’t actually interested in Chris, even though he was gorgeous, but I was interested in pissing off Hunter. Throwing back a little of his shade.
If he saw me show up at the party without a care in the world and openly flirt with his sexy friend, he’d probably lose his freaking mind.
Perhaps it was a little cruel to use Chris in such a way, but he didn’t seem to care. In fact, he practically suggested it a moment ago.
“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked.
I nodded. “Yup. See you then.”
He winked and sauntered away.
Still smiling from the surprisingly-positive interaction, I grabbed my gym bag from my locker and headed out of Royal Hall, toward the boathouse by the lake.
It was a gorgeous afternoon. The sky was blue, and the distant national park trees shimmered bronze and gold over the mountains. The lake water was a deep blue-green, and the strip of white sand next to it glittered like diamond dust in the bright sunlight.
Hillside stairs led all the way down to the boathouse, and a large dock stretched out into the water from the front of it. Some of the rowing club members were already there, getting ready.
Even though I’d only been rowing for two weeks, I felt like I’d been doing it forever. In the first week, Coach Reilly and some of the other club members showed me everything I needed to know—proper rowing form, breathing techniques, the anatomy of the boats and other necessary equipment—and when I was finally allowed to try it on my own in a single scull, I took to it like a duck to water. Apparently I was a natural.
We practiced almost every morning before class, rising at the crack of dawn, and on Thursday afternoons we had our official club meetings. This week, we were sorting out the different competitive classes for the term—some would be put into the individual racing group, while others would be assigned to eight-person teams with a coxswain so they could compete in varsity competitions.
I hoped I’d be put into the individual class. While I enjoyed rowing in the bigger shells with the others, I preferred doing it alone. It felt so freeing to be out there on the water, in control of my own little boat.
On the far side of the boatshed, there was a bathroom and changeroom for all club members. I went inside and put my bag down on a bench by the wall, and then I pulled out my rowing clothes—tight spandex top and shorts as a base layer, fleece jacket to keep me warm out on the water, a knit beanie, and a pair of running shoes.
After changing in one of the small cubicles on the other side of the room, I returned to my bag to put my other clothes away. My forehead creased in a frown as I looked down at it. I could’ve sworn I left it zipped all the way up before heading off to change, but now it was sitting there half-open.
I glanced over at Tracey, one of the other senior girls in the club. “Hey, did you see anyone touching my bag?” I asked.
Her brows knitted. “No, but I only just came in. Is something wrong?”
“It’s probably nothing,” I replied, waving a hand. “I just thought I left it zipped up, that’s all.”
“Is anything missing?”
I rummaged through it. Everything seemed to be there… except my keycard.
“My card is gone,” I said with a frown. “I had it in this front pocket, and now it’s empty.”
Coach Reilly blew a whistle outside, and Tracey shrugged. “It might’ve fallen into another pocket,” she said, heading for the door. “Look for it later. We have to go.”
She was probably right. After all, nothing else was missing.
Ten minutes later, the whole club was out on the shore, huddling up as Coach Reilly went through the team assignments. The sun had gone behind a cloud, and a chilly wind was blowing through the area.
“Collins, I’m putting you in the beginner-level individual racing group for now,” he finally said, looking over at me.