The Regatta Crew – Part 2: Finish Line

The final race of the season was in October, in a rising wind.

The lake was grey-green and choppy, the sky heavy with cloud. The Alps had vanished behind a veil of mist. The fleet of yachts bucked and plunged, sails straining. Juliette gripped the helm with both hands, her face wet with spray.

"Two minutes to the mark," called Anna.

"How's the wind?"

"Shifting left. Ten degrees."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm always sure."

Juliette laughed, a wild, joyous bark. She trimmed. The yacht leaned and flew, slicing across the swell. They rounded the final mark neck and neck with their rivals, the crew yelling, ropes singing. Then a gust took them, sudden and fierce, and the boat surged ahead.

They crossed the line a length in front.

The horn blared. The crew exploded in cheers. Anna flung her tablet into a locker and threw her arms round Juliette, and for a long, breathless moment they simply held on, laughing, soaked, hearts hammering.

That evening, the dock was empty. The others had gone to the clubhouse. The lake was quiet and silver, the lights of Geneva glittering on the far shore. Juliette and Anna sat on the end of the pier, shoes off, feet in the cold water, sharing the last of the champagne.

"We won," said Juliette.

"We did."

"I've never enjoyed a win so much."

"It's the crew."

"It's the navigator."

"Can I ask you something?" said Anna.

"Yes."

"Would you object to being kissed by your navigator?"

"I'd object if you didn't," said Juliette. "May I kiss you?"

"Yes," said Anna. "And if you say stop, you must let me navigate the whole of next season."

"That's what I was hoping for."

Juliette kissed her, salt-lipped and bright, a damp hand cupping Anna's cheek. Anna kissed her back, soft and sure, tasting of champagne and lake air. The last light turned the water to copper. A flag clinked on the mast behind them.

When they parted, both of them were smiling.

"Green?" asked Anna.

"Green," said Juliette. "Very green."

The yacht has a new name painted on its stern: Two Boat-Lengths. Nobody asks. Everybody knows.

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