Free Level Hands: Bend or Break, Book 4 by Amy Jo Cousins Page B

under his cutoff sweats. He assumed the same forgiveness for shitty workout clothes during practice—as opposed to regattas—applied at Carlisle as at the club back home. The lights were off, but he kept his eyes averted, not wanting to see if Denny was looking at him. His dick ended up twisted to the wrong side, so he shoved a hand down the front of the Lycra shorts and readjusted himself.
    A throat cleared loudly in the predawn quiet.
    Pretty damn sure Denny was watching now.
    Stop playing with yourself and find your shoes.
    “Here.” Denny handed him his running shoes, no sign on his face that he’d been busted watching Rafi resettle his dick in his shorts.
    Wondering whether or not Denny was staring at his dick was way more appealing than stressing out over whether or not he was about to make a terrible impression on his new coach by showing up late to the first practice of the year.
    But Denny had brought his bike, so they could both ride, and the road down the river was mostly downhill. Getting back to campus would be irritating for sure, but biking got them there way faster than jogging, and the other members of the team were still milling around outside the boathouse, chest bumping and one-arm hugging teammates they hadn’t seen since last year. He wasn’t the only one who hadn’t been able to go on the pre-semester rowing team trip, obviously. Thank God.
    One less way he’d stand out as the new guy among the crowd.
    “You know, you’re not the only new guy here.” It was almost annoying how easily Denny picked up on his thoughts. “Looks like we got freshman rowers coming out the wazoo this year,” he continued, lifting his chin at a clump of guys standing together, that fresh-out-of-high-school glow still on them.
    Nice try. Doesn’t help, but A plus for effort. Freshmen were supposed to be confused and awkward. Being a transfer student carried a different vibe for Rafi. Like, he might not know how things worked at Carlisle, specifically, but he was expected to have figured out college life in general already, right? Taking part-time classes at the city colleges back home hadn’t prepared him for shit, though.
    “Is there anything we’re supposed to be doing right now?” he finally caved and asked Austin. Not knowing what was expected of him was Rafi’s least favorite headspace to be in.
    “Nah, not until Coach gets here. She likes to make a speech on the first morning.”
    When she arrived, Couch Lawson’s straw-blond hair pulled back in a rough ponytail and her weathered tan face made her a near twin for his rowing coach back home.
    Rafi laughed under his breath. Denny turned a curious look on him.
    “Nothing,” he said, shaking his head. It was surprisingly comforting to recognize a woman who’d spent most of her life on the water.
    Which didn’t explain anything, but Denny smiled and bumped him with his shoulder anyway, waving over a couple of the guys standing closest to them.
    They chatted until their coach put her gear bag away in the boathouse and came back outside.
    Coach Lawson gathered their attention with a look. Rafi wasn’t sure how she did it. All he knew was that one moment, he was shooting the shit with a couple of guys Denny had introduced him to—casually, and not like Rafi was some kind of special diversity token, which he should have known Denny wouldn’t do, but he hadn’t been able to banish the fear—and the next moment, everyone was silent and facing the river.
    “Some of you already know how I work. Some of you are new.” Rafi told himself she didn’t stare at him longer than any of the other newbies, who were all in random workout gear instead of the Carlisle kit most of the returning crew wore. “I’m here to win. We will have fun, we will conduct ourselves at all times with absolute good sportsmanship. But I’m here to win. I don’t give a shit about seniority. Or excuses. If you’re one of the eight strongest rowers, you’ll sit in the varsity