Archive of Our Own ^beta

In retrospect, going on a boat trip with six friends and zero collective boating experience probably should have involved some preparation. Or, at the very least, a spare change of clothes.

But where was the fun in that?

Charlie wasn’t entirely sure how it happened. He’d walked past that stretch of river every day, immune to the tourist street vendors with their gaudy signs and unsolicited marketing spiels. But, this time, it was like he had a flashing red target on his back. A sign saying, I’m here and queer and ready to go into my overdraft.

Maybe it was because, for once, he wasn’t speed walking to a seminar with a Kånken on his back and purpose in his stride. Maybe, since exams had ended, he’d stopped radiating human aversion like a prickly, Tori-shaped cactus.

Most likely, it was because of the six idiots behind him looking like the gayest, most conspicuous group of tourists you ever did see.

“Can I interest you in a private punting tour?” asked the street vendor, while brazenly obstructing their path. Charlie wondered idly how difficult it would be to rugby-tackle the guy. Maybe if he asked Nick nicely enough…

The automatic no thanks was on the tip of Charlie’s tongue, but the street vendor was persistent. And perceptive. His eyes darted to Charlie’s rainbow tote bag, Nick’s hand coming to rest casually on Charlie’s waist, Tao and Elle’s shared earphones, Darcy and Tara’s interlinked arms. Before anyone could interrupt, he added, “Perfect for a dreamy, romantic group date. You guys can sit back, relax, enjoy the scenery. Cuddle up while experiencing the sights of Durham.”

At the word cuddle, Nick took off his sunglasses in interest. Charlie wanted to plant his face into his hands. “How much?” Nick asked.

“For a group your size? I’d say eighty pounds, give or take.”

There was an awkward silence. Charlie felt Nick deflate beside him. He could’ve sworn he heard someone mutter, “Homophobia,” under their breath. Probably Darcy.

“These are the best rates you’ll find in the city,” attempted the vendor, though Charlie could see the hope fading from his eyes.

“That’s out of our budget, I’m afraid,” Elle said politely. Not that they had a budget. More of a propensity to be as cheap as possible. (Hence their decision to vacay in Durham where they could all camp out in Charlie’s dilapidated student house instead of paying for a hotel.)

“We’re poor students,” Isaac clarified. “Sorry.”

“Wait!” the vendor called as they shuffled away. “We also have punts for self-hire. Sixteen pounds an hour. And I can offer you a twenty percent student discount.”

Tao grinned. “Well, why didn’t you mention that earlier?”

If Charlie had got his way, he would have boycotted the punting company on principle. But, as they made their way to the boathouse, he had to admit that the idea was growing on him. The weather was ideal—warm enough to ditch their jackets, but mild enough that Nick, who burned like a little flame in the sun, would probably be unscathed. The River Wear, usually the colour of diluted black tea, actually looked inviting, its surface mirroring the cerulean sky. There wasn’t a rain cloud in sight.

Of all the days to lose his punting virginity, today was a pretty good one, Charlie figured. Plus, the others seemed keen on the idea, including Nick. Especially Nick. Which was enough to make Charlie cave a hundred times over.

“So,” Tao said, joining the end of the boathouse queue, “does anyone know how to punt? Because I don’t.”

“No,” everyone chorused in unison.

“But I’m a seasoned swan boat pedaller,” Darcy piped.

“I don’t think that’s the same thing, Darce,” said Tara.

They turned their gaze to the professional punters serenely gliding across the river. “How hard can it be, though?” Nick said. “It’s just pushing the boat along with a stick.”

Tao clapped Nick on the back. “How noble of you to volunteer, Nick.”

Nick’s mouth dropped, indignant. “I’m not here to be your chauffeur.”

“No, he’s here to canoodle with his boyfriend,” Isaac muttered, flipping a page of his book.

“Damn right I am.” Nick drew Charlie close for emphasis, and Charlie dutifully rolled his eyes, but made no effort to pull away.

Soon, though, they faced bigger problems than deciding who to entrust with the punting pole.

“Hey, check this out,” Tara said, pointing at the wooden sign nailed to the side of the boathouse. “For safety reasons, we allow no more than six people per punt. Five seated, and one punter.”

“What? Seriously?”

“Only six?”

“Why does it matter? There are six of us, right?”

“There’s seven, you dimwit.”

“Oh, shit. I can’t count.”

“That’s because you’re gay.”

“Shut up.”

“Well, what are we gonna do now?”

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Isaac said quietly, and all heads turned to look at him. “If this is a group date thing, I’ll just sit out. I can stay here and read my book. I don’t mind.”

“Isaac, no!” Tao cried, at the same time as Charlie said, “Absolutely not.”

“This isn’t a group date thing. It’s a friend thing. And we’re not leaving you behind,” Elle said.

“If we go down, you and your book are going down with us,” Darcy added, in a way that left no room for argument.

Isaac gulped and tucked the book to his chest, arms wrapped protectively over the fuchsia pink cover, but he looked touched all the same.

“Now that that’s established,” Tara said, “how are we getting all seven of us onto one boat?”

“It’s just one extra person,” said Tao. “I can use my excellent powers of persuasion.”

“I not sure that will be enough,” Elle sighed. She nodded towards the large, seven-strong family ahead of them, who were traipsing away after being rejected at the riverbank.

“How about I stick Charlie on my shoulders and we pretend to be one very tall person?” Nick joked. At least, Charlie hoped he was joking. Nick had such an affinity for holding things (things being Charlie, primarily), that he could never be sure.

“Maybe not when we’re surrounded by open water, love,” Charlie said.

Nick sighed dramatically. “It was worth a try.”

“We can smuggle Tao under my dress?” Elle suggested, with a quirk of her lips. “He’s small enough.”

Tao shot her a glare that would have been lethal if it wasn’t his love language.

Suddenly, a thought struck Charlie. There was only one obvious solution—one that didn’t involve illicitly smuggling Tao onboard or leaving someone stranded on the riverbank—and it was a wonder no one had thought of it sooner. “I have a better idea,” he said. “Who says we all need to fit into one boat?”

He caught Tao’s eye, who flashed back a wicked smirk. “And who says it needs to be relaxing?”

Nick looked between the two of them in instant understanding. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” they both said, locking eyes intensely.

“I’m on Charlie’s team,” Nick said, clinging onto Charlie’s arm.

“I’m with Elle,” said Tao.

“Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” asked Tara.

Elle exhaled heavily and crossed her arms. “These idiots want to race.”

Isaac tipped his face into his book, muttering, “God give me strength,” while Darcy hollered, “Bring it on.”

“I love you, Tao,” said Elle, “but I’m not racing in a boat with you against Charlie.”

Tao’s jaw dropped in mock offence. “Why not?”

“You and Charlie going head to head always ends up with something being capsized. You need to be on the same team. For everyone’s safety.”

“And sanity,” Isaac added.

Charlie thought back to every sleepover game of Monopoly. Elle had a point.

Nick flashed Tao a shit eating grin. “Looks like you’re stuck with us, mate.”

“Want to join the dream team instead, Elle?” asked Darcy, while slinging an arm around Tara.

Elle looked to Tao, questioning. “Oh, go on then,” he said. “But I won’t be going easy on you.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” Elle replied sweetly, murder glinting behind her round-rimmed glasses.

“Isaac?” Tara asked.

Isaac nodded towards Charlie and Tao. “Think I’ll stay with this lot. Someone’s got to keep them in check.”

Which left Tara, Darcy and Elle in one team, and Nick, Charlie, Tao and Isaac in the other.

“Then it’s settled,” said Tara. “Girls against boys.”

“Higgs versus Truham,” Darcy mused. “It’s like school all over again.”

“Don’t curse us before we even start,” Charlie groaned, years of school sports days flashing before his eyes.

For the purposes of inclusivity and upping the stakes—as well as upping public concern, Charlie thought to himself—they decided to rotate punters. Like a dodgy relay race with fifteen-foot batons.

Darcy, being fearless, volunteered to go first for the girls. Charlie, being a coward, volunteered his boyfriend. “You have strong rugby arms,” he said, pushing the punting pole into Nick’s chest.

“He’s got a point,” Tao added.

Nick stared at them. “You two are the ones who wanted to race!”

“Don’t look at me!” Charlie said. “I never asked to go punting in the first place!”

Nick looked at Tao helplessly. “Tao?”

“Absolutely not.”

“But you have a low centre of gravity.”

“Fuck you, Nicholas.”

They were interrupted by the sound of a book slamming shut. “You guys are hopeless,” Isaac said, rolling his eyes. “I volunteer as tribute.”

Despite all prior intents of being a coward, Charlie allowed himself to be bullied off the wooden pier first, clutching onto Nick’s hand for stability. The punt felt as unstable as his university grades. It creaked, tilted and dipped beneath his weight, then dipped even more as Nick and Tao gracelessly piled in behind him. Charlie gripped the sides with both hands, suddenly aware of how close they were to the water. All he needed to do was lean a little too far, and he’d become intimately acquainted with the River Wear. Up close, it looked increasingly foreboding.

Was it possible to capsize a punt? Charlie tried not to think about it.

Isaac was the last to board. Punting pole in hand, he took a precarious step onto the back of the punt. Charlie’s stomach clenched just watching him. But Isaac seemed unfazed, balancing himself with a strong, two-footed stance. He rose to his full height and drove the end of the pole into the water in a way that was remarkably badass.

“You look like Gandalf,” Charlie observed.

Isaac clutched his hand to his heart and pretended to wipe away a tear. “That might be the best thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

They pushed away from the bank, which was the same sort of terrifying as letting go of the side of an ice rink for the first time, and then the race began. In spirit. Not in practice. Isaac spent about a minute trying to figure out how to move forward, while Darcy headed off in the wrong direction and got tangled up in the docks. But, eventually, both boats started to make progress.

Once they were underway, Isaac found his punting rhythm. The jerky swaying evened out to a smooth, leisurely glide. Charlie relaxed enough to hold Nick’s hand instead of the sides of the boat and silently thanked the universe for blessing Isaac with so much competence.

Darcy, on the other hand, kept over correcting her steering, which doomed her to travel in a perpetual zig zag.

“You’re punting as straight as I am,” Nick yelled.

“Do you want to be jousted into the river, Nelson?” Darcy yelled back, lifting up her pole in threat.

Nick yelped. “Quick, Isaac, get us out of here.”

Isaac upped his pace and expertly manoeuvred them beneath a bridge, out of Darcy’s jousting radius.

“Are you sure you haven’t done this before?” Charlie asked him.

“Never,” Isaac said. “But I’ve read about it.”

“Of course he has,” Tao muttered, with undeniable fondness.

“You know, in the book I’m reading right now,” Isaac continued, on a roll, “the main character college-proposes to her best friend on this exact river by serenading her with a cover of Your Song…"

An elaborate book synopsis later, Isaac lifted the pole out of the water and propped it on the deck. “Right. I’ve done my part. Can someone take over? I’m having book withdrawal.”

“I can,” Charlie volunteered, before he could stop himself. It was like doing a presentation in front of the class. The sooner he got it out of the way, the sooner he’d be able to relax. Theoretically.

The others gave him a small cheer, and adrenaline surged within him. That feeling lasted precisely ten seconds—the time it took him to climb over Nick’s lap—and then Isaac plopped ebulliently down into the boat and almost gave them both a heart attack.

“Shit, sorry,” Isaac screeched, as Charlie latched onto Nick to avoid being catapulted overboard.

Disaster narrowly averted, Charlie picked himself to his feet. They shuffled past each other awkwardly, Isaac passing Charlie the punting pole. The hollow metal was long and unwieldy. Charlie clutched it with whitened knuckles, summoning the courage to take Isaac’s place. The punter’s deck was a small, raised ledge at the back of the boat that dropped off on either side, like the edge of a cliff. One misstep would send him tumbling into the river.

“Fuck,” he said, panicking. I can’t do this.

“Yes you can,” said Nick, and Charlie realised he’d spoken his thoughts aloud.

“Easy for you to say!”

“You can, darling.” Nick made his way towards Charlie and offered a hand. “Come on. I won’t let you fall in.”

Squeezing the life out of Nick’s hand, Charlie stepped onto the punter’s deck. The boat bobbed up and down, each movement amplified in his stomach. He curled up his toes inside his Converse, as though clenching them would somehow summon his inner equilibrium, both physical and mental.

Once stationed, Nick let go of Charlie’s hand and took hold of him by the waist. Charlie doubted Nick was any more stable than he was, but his presence felt like an anchor. The arms helped as well. There was a lot of security in those biceps. Slowly, Charlie lifted the pole and lowered it down into the water until it made contact with the river bed. He gave a tentative push. The boat shifted forward by a whopping thirty centimetres.

“That was good!” Isaac said, while Tao said cheerily, “That was pathetic!”

“No one asked for your opinion, Tao,” Charlie shot back. He tried to pull the pole out of the water for the next push, but it was caught beneath the current. Shit. He gave as hard of a tug as he dared. The metal felt impossibly heavy.

Noticing his struggle, Nick grabbed hold of the pole as well. Together, they managed to wrench it above the surface, but not without nearly wrenching themselves off the boat.

While they floundered, a punt approached them from behind. Darcy had relinquished the punting pole to Elle, who was currently chauffeuring with such grace and elegance that Charlie thought she must be some sort of punting goddess.

“No!” Tao groaned. “Charlie, you have to go faster!”

“I can’t!”

“Stop stressing him out!” Nick snapped, in the tone he usually reserved for Harry Greene.

“Your speed is stressing me out! They’re closing in on us.”

“It’s harder than it fucking looks, Tao,” Charlie cried. He wondered if it was too late to take up the eighty pound offer for that private gay-friendly chauffeur.

Tao managed to hold his tongue while Charlie attempted—with maximum stress and minimal success—to pick up the speed.

To add insult to injury, Elle caught up without breaking a sweat. As the girls breezed past them, Tara and Darcy sent a splash their way. “See you on the flip side, suckers!” Darcy called.

“That’s it,” Tao said. “I’m taking over. Charlie, give me that bloody stick.”

Being overtaken had lit a fire under Tao’s arse, and Charlie was all too relieved to hand over control. Tao didn’t even wait for him to be seated before shoving the boat aggressively forward. Somehow, against every law of physics, he was a lot faster on water than he was on land.

Ahead of them, Tara took over from Elle. While she wrestled with a punting pole twice her height, Tao steamrolled past her. “Ha! Thought you could win, did you?” he gloated.

But his moment of glory was short lived. Soon, they came head to head with a rowing boat manned by some poncy-looking Durham students. Their rah accents carried across the water like hard-of-hearing Tory pensioners on speakerphone. Charlie assumed they would move out of the way of the punt, or at least slow down. They did not.

Wankers.

Tao was left with no choice. He made the sharpest, fastest turn he could muster. Which was, admittedly, not very fast or sharp. For one terrifying moment, it looked as though the boats were going to crash. But then the tip of their punt swung to the side, missing the stern of the rowing boat by a mere inch. They were safe.

For about five seconds.

Because the force of Tao’s heroic swerve sent them crashing right into the riverbank instead.

“Well done, mate,” Nick said dryly. “I think I just got whiplash.”

“Would it kill you to stop being drama queen, Nick?” Tao retorted.

“Probably,” Charlie muttered.

“I’m not a queen,” Nick protested. “That’s my mum. I’m a princess.”

Tao attempted to turn the punt away from the bank, but it soon became apparent that this was not a viable strategy when the nose of the punt was embedded in protruding tree roots. They were well and truly stuck.

While the girls sailed past them, chanting, Let’s go lesbians, let’s go, Tao could only seethe in silence like a very angry garden gnome. “Smile, babes!” Elle sang, holding up her phone. Tao gripped his punting pole like a bō staff and shot her daggers, Nick and Charlie flashed jovial middle fingers, while Isaac tipped his straw hat and posed with his book.

“Isaac, save me,” Tao said in defeat, once Elle was out of earshot.

Isaac succeeded in reversing them out of the tangle of roots, and getting the punt back on track. Once he’d picked up some speed, he offered the pole to Nick. “You haven’t had your go yet.”

Alarm flashed over Nick’s face for a split second, before he schooled it into a picture of puppy-dog innocence. “Are you sure, Isaac? You look very comfortable. I’d hate to disturb you—”

“Get your arse up there, Nick Nelson,” Tao said, giving him a shove. “If I have to lose my dignity, so do you.”

Aside from beginner’s nerves, Nick got the hang of it with remarkable ease. Which wasn’t surprising, Charlie figured, considering his sporting background and, well, arm strength. As Nick’s confidence grew, so did his speed. And, even more notably, his smile. It was bigger than ever, the lopsided smirk expanding to fill his entire face. Charlie loved when he smiled like that, unrestrained and unafraid, imperfect teeth and all. Nick’s joy was infectious. As he reclaimed their lead over the girls, the team whooped with delight. Even Tao, begrudgingly.

The sun chose that moment to come out in solidarity, bathing Nick in victorious summer gold. His hair glinted copper in the light, the swooping forelock fluttering cinematically in the breeze like a glorified Pantene advert. Give that ginger fringe an Oscar, Charlie thought, feeling slightly delirious.

He was definitely gawking like an idiot. But he didn’t care, because Nick looked fucking resplendent. A bisexual dreamboat. A carve-him-into-marble-and-display-him-in-the-V&A artistic masterpiece.

Nick caught Charlie’s lovestruck gaze and bit down on his lip, his smile turning positively dopey.

Both of them were so transfixed on each other, neither noticed the low hanging tree branch rapidly approaching Nick at eye level. Until it was too late.

“Nick, duck!” Tao yelled.

“Ducks?” Nick said in delight. “Where—?”

And that was when the low hanging branch slapped him square across the forehead.

“No!” Charlie cried.

It happened as if in slow motion—Nick’s arm flailing to the side, fingers splayed wide in shock; the punting pole slipping from his grip and pitching into the water like a falling domino; his smile morphing into an almost comical look of horror as his fate dawned on him.

Charlie launched himself towards Nick, hurdling recklessly over Isaac and Tao, no thought in his mind except grabbing hold of his idiot boyfriend.

Nick caught sight of Charlie crashing towards him. Survival instinct kicking in, he made the most determined attempt at helicopter arms Charlie had ever seen. It didn’t stop his descent, but bought enough seconds for Charlie to make a wild grab. By some divine intervention, Charlie’s blind reach coincided perfectly with Nick’s upwards arm-swing, and their fingertips latched together like atoms.

Charlie hooked his fingers around Nick’s. And then he made his fatal mistake. He took a step forward to secure his grip. The sole of his Converse landed right onto something soft and slippy. A beanie. Tao must have taken it off earlier and left it on the deck. Charlie’s foot skidded on the fabric. He only lost his balance for a second, but it was a second too long. Nick tipped past the point of no return. He gave up his windmilling and screwed his eyes closed.

Gravity laughed in their faces, knowing it had won.

Charlie didn’t think of letting go. He felt a sharp tug on his arm socket, and then he was hurtling overboard too.

Who brings a fucking beanie in July? he thought, before the water engulfed them whole.

Charlie wished he could say it was a refreshing dip. But there was nothing refreshing about it. For mid summer, the river was offensively cold. His senses screamed at the impact. Water stung his eyes and jetted up his nostrils. The shock of it sent him into a panic. He thrashed around, trying to gain his bearings, but he couldn’t see a thing; the water was dark and murky. His leg brushed against something slimy. Seaweed? He hoped to god it was seaweed.

Before he could drown in disgust, a pair of strong rugby arms—and yes, he could identify those arms even underwater—grabbed him and hoisted him upwards. Charlie’s head broke the surface. Sunlight flooded his retinas. He blinked the water out of his eyes and sucked in a breath of glorious, revitalising, Michelin star air.

Without letting go of Charlie, Nick bobbed towards the punt and hooked his elbow over the side. He spat out a mouthful of river water. “Fuck,” he spluttered. “It’s freezing.”

“Why is it so cold?” Charlie agreed, through chattering teeth.

While they clung to the boat and each other, their rescue team launched dubiously into action.

“Code red. I repeat, code red!” Tao cried into his phone, achieving so little but panicking so much that Charlie almost felt touched.

“Tao, I’m literally right here,” came the response. It reached Charlie’s waterlogged ears through the air first, before blaring out of Tao’s phone speaker. Charlie turned his head, and sure enough, Elle was just a few metres across the river, her phone tilted up to her mouth, a mixture of concern and bemusement on her face. Beside her, Tara and Darcy were watching everything unfold through another phone screen.

Not watching, Charlie realised. Filming. The little shits.

Which left Isaac, who was calm and placid as a lake, as though he’d expected this to happen all along. With zero sense of urgency, he wrapped his book in a protective waterproof sleeve and stowed it away in his tote bag, muttering, “Allos.” Finally, he turned to them. “You two need a hand?”

Nick, forever the gentleman, insisted on Charlie being rescued first. He pushed Charlie up by the arse—which Charlie probably would have enjoyed if he wasn’t so wet and cold—while Isaac dragged him in by the arms. He landed sprawled on the deck like a sodden fish. Unconcerned, Isaac moved on to yanking in Nick. Charlie tried to help with the rescue effort, but he was shivering too much to really be of use. Thankfully, Tao had come to his senses at this point, and his and Isaac’s combined manpower was enough to haul Nick back into the boat.

Once safely on deck, Nick cupped Charlie’s cheeks. His hair was plastered to his brow, darkened to a chestnut brown by the water. Droplets rolled down his forehead and beaded at the tips of his lashes. His t-shirt, now twice as see-through, stuck to his chest, revealing every contour. Charlie felt the exact same stirring in his gut as he did when watching the Colin Firth lake scene in Pride and Prejudice. All his discomfort suddenly seemed irrelevant.

“Are you okay?” Nick asked, his brow scrunching up with that adorable little furrow of his.

“Yeah,” Charlie said. More than okay, given the circumstances. “You?”

“Yeah.”

They stared at each other. Nick’s lips twitched first, but it was Charlie who lost it. He set Nick off, and soon they were both giggling like maniacs. Charlie plonked his forehead onto Nick’s sopping shoulder. “Why are we li—?” Some remnants of river water caught in his throat and he broke off, coughing. Nick thumped his back. Charlie didn’t need to finish the sentence.

The punt jostled a little as the girls docked next to them. “What happened?” Elle asked. “I look away for one second and suddenly half your team is having a swim.”

“Nick was too busy eye-fucking Charlie to watch where he was going and got thwacked in the face by a tree branch,” Tao explained.

“Charlie fell in trying to save him,” Isaac added, as if it wasn’t obvious.

“I expected nothing less,” Darcy said in approval.

“Are you two alright, though?” Elle asked.

“Spectacular,” Nick said, laughter still lacing the edges of his voice.

“Spectacularly wet,” Charlie amended. The moment the words left his lips, he could practically see Nick’s mind descend to the gutter at terminal velocity. “Shut up,” he added, directing the words at Nick’s dirty smirk.

Nick cocked an eyebrow. As if to emphasise Charlie’s point, he stripped off his cropped t-shirt with salacious slowness and wrung the water over the side of the boat, his smirk only growing wider. Charlie wasn’t mentally prepared for the view. He’d seen Nick shirtless countless times, but not like this, the summer sun glistening off his damp back, every freckle as striking as the next. He almost toppled overboard again.

Tara rolled her eyes. “Nick, need I remind you that there are two lesbians and an asexual here?”

Darcy, on the other hand, goggled at him. “You have abs now?”

He did. Four baby ones, to replace the soft pooch of his teenage tummy. Charlie had memorised the sight of them (and the feel of them beneath his lips).

“I’ve been gymming a little bit,” Nick admitted.

“A little bit?”

Ignoring her, Nick reached for the dry hoodie he’d left on the deck. He used it to towel off Charlie’s hair, and then his own. Charlie removed his own flannel shirt and tee for practical reasons, though he didn’t put on the same spectacle as Nick. He didn’t need to. The fact that he’d had the confidence to do so at all was enough to send Nick beaming. For the sake of everyone in the vicinity, they kept their bottom halves fully clothed, though that didn’t stop Charlie from mentally undressing Nick right down to his soggy Iron Man boxer briefs.

Nick dried Charlie off thoroughly, and definitely spent longer on the task than he needed to. Charlie returned the gesture with equal enthusiasm. By the time they were done, the hoodie was soaked through and unwearable.

“You two, for the love of god, please put something on,” Tao said, making a valiant effort to look in any direction but theirs.

Nick glanced down at his damp hoodie-turned-towel, then at his and Charlie’s discarded shirts, currently marinating on the deck in a puddle of river water. “Um. Does anyone have any dry clothes?”

None of their friends, not even Isaac, had had the foresight to lug along an outfit change. But, to Charlie’s surprise, they still managed to rally together and scrounge something wearable for them both. Darcy donated her tie dye hoodie for Nick to squeeze into, and Isaac offered Charlie his knitted sweater vest.

Charlie was convinced Nick could pull off any hoodie, and he wasn’t wrong. Nick sported Darcy’s tie dye look like it was his own. It hardly even looked like a makeshift cover-up. The same, unfortunately, could not be said for Charlie. While the vest had looked fantastic layered over Isaac’s button down, it hung like a loose bin bag on Charlie’s bare torso. The fit didn’t bother him so much as the lack of coverage. Now that Charlie’s attention wasn’t being hogged by a shirtless Nick, he was increasingly aware of the fact they were in public. His arms felt far too exposed, and he was sure anyone could see his nips if they looked through the baggy arm holes at the right angle.

Elle, seeing his discomfort, tossed him her denim mini-jacket. “You can wear that over the top if you like.”

It was an interesting combo. The mini-jacket tugged at his armpits and looked more than a little absurd, but Charlie was beyond caring. He was just grateful to be semi-dry, and not naked.

Darcy, after contributing her clothes to the rescue effort, re-stationed herself on the punter’s deck. “Well then. Thanks for the gay interlude,” she said. “But if you two are good, we’ve got a race to win. Adios, my guys.” And with that, she punted off, carrying Tara and Elle with her.

The Truham team floated aimlessly for a while. Their punting pole had been carried upstream after falling into the water. Nobody wanted to jump in and retrieve it, despite Tao’s insistence that it was Nick’s responsibility after dropping in the first place. (“What the fuck, mate? I’ve only just got dry.”) Eventually, they managed to flag down a charitable rower, who went to fetch it for them.

By the time they circled back to the start, the Higgs team had returned their punt, gone to buy victory ice creams, and assembled themselves at the finish line to gloat.

“Okay, but if Nick and Charlie hadn’t been lovestruck idiots,” Tao grumbled, climbing onto the bank, “we definitely would have won.”

Elle pushed a spoonful of strawberry sorbet into Tao’s mouth, silencing him. “You tell yourself that, babe.”

“So, where to next?” Tara asked.

“Home,” Charlie said decisively. “I need to change.” His wet shorts were chafing badly, and from the awkward, stiff way Nick walked, Charlie suspected he was in the same predicament.

When they arrived at Charlie’s student house, Nick headed straight for the bathroom, already unbuttoning his jean shorts. He paused in his tracks, frowning. “Is this the only shower?”

“Yup,” Charlie said. Student living at its finest.

“You go first then, Char.”

“No, it’s fine. You go. Just save me some hot water.”

A hopeful grin slowly spread across Nick’s face. “We’ll save more water if we go together?”

Charlie didn’t need to be asked twice.

(In the end, they didn’t save any water.)

Half an hour later, they emerged squeaky clean and radiant and dressed in each other’s clothes. The others sat waiting for them in the living room. They’d all squeezed onto the flaking sofa and were too busy laughing at something on Darcy’s phone to notice the pair entering.

“What’s so funny?” Nick asked.

They fell silent. Darcy muffled a snort against the sofa cushion. Tao, Elle and Tara looked up with matching expressions of guilt, while Isaac not-so-subtly hid his face behind a book.

Nick and Charlie exchanged a puzzled glance.

“You guys took your fucking time in the shower,” Tao said slowly, “so we decided to get creative.”

“Tao?” Charlie said, perturbed. “Should I be worried?”

“Check your Instagram,” said Isaac.

Charlie brought up the app on his phone. Highlighted at the top of the screen was Darcy’s new story. He clicked on the circle with trepidation.

It was the video of him and Nick falling into the river. In slow motion. With My Heart Will Go On playing over the top. The smitten heart eyes, the tree branch slap, the subsequent chaos. At the climax of the song, the video cut to a dramatic closeup on Nick’s face, his mouth flung open in an expression of wild, unbridled panic. He looked like a 2010s Tumblr meme. Charlie almost asphyxiated.

And then there was Charlie’s rescue attempt. Not quite the dashing, heroic act he’d envisioned, but something more akin to a flailing poodle.

Darcy’s caption read: in case you were wondering, yes, these idiots are still together. And yes, they’re still falling for each other.

“She’s not wrong,” Nick chuckled, his breath tickling Charlie's ear.

They watched the clip over and over again, laughing with until their sides ached. Then Charlie saved the story to his summer highlights.

That way, he could keep it forever.