Page 40 of Playing with My Heart

“Once or twice,” I replied. “How about you?”

“Let’s just say water and I get along pretty well.” His grin was infectious, and I found myself already nodding before he even suggested it.

“Let’s do it.”

Inside the rustic hut, where the smell of damp wood mingled with the scent of river water, we were greeted by a wall of paddles and life vests. The attendant gave us a brief rundown—a formality for Travis who seemed more at ease here than anywhere else.

“Race you on the water too?” he teased, fastening the straps of his life vest with deft fingers.

“Let’s not make everything a competition.” I laughed, but the challenge had already set my heart racing with anticipation.

Out on the water, the world transformed. The water was smooth and clear as we moved in sync with the gentle currents, the occasional splash of our paddles punctuating the serene silence. “Look at you go,” Travis called out from his kayak, which glided effortlessly alongside mine. “I’m starting to think you’ve done this more than ‘once or twice.’”

“Maybe I’m just a natural,” I shot back playfully, unable to keep the pride from my voice as I navigated a particularly tricky current with a skillful twist of my paddle.

“Or maybe you’re just showing off for me.” There was that laugh again, warm and delighted, carried across the water.

“Can you blame me?”

“Trust me, I’m already thoroughly impressed by you,” he replied, causing my cheeks to heat up despite the cool breeze that swept over us.

We paddled on, sometimes talking, sometimes simply enjoying the shared silence. The physical exertion was a welcome burn in my arms, a reminder of the strength I’d honed through my work as a physical therapist—strength Travis admired openly when he caught sight of my biceps flexing with each stroke.

“Damn, Parker,” he whistled appreciatively. “Someone’s been doing their exercises.”

“Occupational hazard,” I joked, though the flush of pleasure at his words was undeniable.

“Remind me to have an ‘accident’ so I can be put under your care,” he said with a wink, making me snort with laughter.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” I replied, though the idea of taking care of Travis, of being the one he turned to in need, sent an unexpected thrill through me.

“Wouldn’t be the worst thing,” he said, almost as if he were talking to himself, and I wondered if he realized how much weight those words carried.

The water soon opened up into a calm, wide expanse that allowed us to drift closer together. Our kayaks bumped gently against each other, and Travis reached out to steady mine with a hand that held on for perhaps a moment longer than necessary. Our eyes met, and the world around us faded—the trees, the water, the sky—all of it paled in comparison to the depth I found in his blue gaze.

“Having fun?” he asked, his voice low and intimate over the short distance between us.

“More than I thought possible,” I replied honestly, my hand finding its way atop his on the side of my kayak.

“Good,” he said, his thumb brushing over my knuckles in a touch that was feather-light but filled with intent.

We resumed paddling, enveloped in quiet contentment. Every stroke was a stroke towards something new, something beautiful. And as the sunlight waned, casting elongated shadows upon the water, I knew without a doubt that this weekend was merely the beginning of countless adventures to come—with Travis by my side.

The last of the day’s light was giving way to twilight as we made our way back to our campsite, our laughter still echoing in the cool air. The physical exertion from kayaking had left an enjoyable burn in my muscles, a testament to the day’s adventures.

“Alright, let’s get this fire started before it gets any darker,” Travis suggested after we’d both washed up.

“Right behind you,” I replied, watching as he expertly navigated around the campsite, picking up twigs and branches with an efficiency that told me he’d done this many times before.

There was something deeply satisfying about collecting firewood together, a sense of teamwork that went beyond the mere act. It was as if each branch we added to our pile symbolized a building block of the relationship we were forging—one that was warm, natural, and full of potential.

“Think this is enough?” I asked, dropping another armful onto the growing pile.

“Perfect. Now watch the master at work.”

I watched as he began arranging the wood into a perfect pyramid structure, the kindling nestled at its heart. He struck a match, his movements deliberate and focused, and the smallflame caught, casting a warm glow over his face. His eyes flicked up to meet mine, and there was that spark again—the one that seemed to ignite something far deeper than the fire in front of us.

“Fire’s not the only thing heating up around here,” I teased, unable to resist the pull of his gaze.

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