Page 2 of Don't Take the Girl
His eyes flick between mine and the water. "So you weren't trying to see if there's a fish on the end of this line?"
My eyes widen, and I shake my head. "Oh, I don't a have fish." I chuck my thumb over my shoulder and look back at the water as I search for a lie. "It got stuck on something at the bottom of the lake," I say nervously before running with it. "That's why I was checking the temperature of the water. I figured I'd go in and unsnag it so you guys didn't have to help me."
He stares blankly, like he can't believe the words that just came out of my mouth, before picking up my pole, but to my surprise, he doesn't make fun of me. "That bobber dipping underwater was a nibble, and now that it's fully submerged, it means you have a bite," he says as he starts reeling in the fish. "I'm sorry about earlier."
"Did your dad send you over here to say that?"
"No…" he says, his tone lacking a true defense.
After the fit he threw about me coming, I know that's a lie. He didn't suddenly have a change of heart. I saw him sitting on a bucket while his father was re-stringing a pole and giving him an earful. I'm positive whatever verbal lashing he was receiving was about me. I'm not mad at London. I get it. I crashed his afternoon with his father.
"You don't have to do that," I say in response to his lie. "A lie isn't any better than a meaningless apology that I didn't ask for."
He looks over his shoulder and purses his lips before he returns his eyes to the fish he's currently reeling in. "Fine, he may have told me to apologize, but that doesn't mean I don't agree you deserve one. I was a jerk."
I cop a squat on the large flat rock I'd been sitting on before I noticed my line moving in the water. This rock is the entire reason I chose this spot. I didn't want to sit in the grass and get eaten alive by the bugs.
"I can't believe the girl who has never been fishing is the first one to get a bite."
"It's not a big deal. I'm sure it's something small, like a crappie."
"It doesn't matter if it's small. A catch is a catch," he says as the fish I caught breaks the water. "And that's not a crappie. You caught a catfish."
I get to my feet to get a better look as he grabs the line, and the fish flops around in the grass.
"How are you going to get the hook out of its mouth?" I ask with a grimace. "Won't those things on the side of its face sting you?"
He laughs, and for once today, I'm grateful for the heat. My cheeks were red before he laughed at my expense. He does a double-take when he sees I don't find my question nearly as amusing.
"Sorry, I forgot you've never been fishing. I've never been fishing with someone who doesn't know about fish." He pulls a pocket knife out of his shorts. "Didn't your father ever take you? I mean, I know you're a girl, but…"
"Tell your dad you caught the fish. I'm going back to the truck so I can sit in the shade," I mutter as I hastily slip my Keds back on.
"Hey, Laney…" I can tell he's about to give me another shallow apology that I don't want to hear, so I ignore him. "It's Laney, right?"
"Yesss," I drone, finally getting my last shoe on. "You didn't want me to come, and I don't want to be here. We don't have to pretend." I drop my hands to my hips and roll my eyes, determined to hide the hurt his mentioning my father brings.
He grabs my arm as I turn on my heel, and I swear a tiny buzz of electricity zings through my body. It's an awareness I've never felt, probably because a boy has never touched me before, especially not one I liked or thought I liked. "Stay. I swear I wasn't laughing at you."
My eyes study the hand wrapped around my wrist. There's dirt under his nails from putting bait on hooks, and God knows what kind of grime is on his knuckles. It's gross, but the hum I feel from head to toe remains. I trace his arm back to the body it's attached to, cataloging every freckle and the tiny scar on his bicep before my eyes finally reach his rich brown eyes. The agitation I saw in them earlier has faded, and now, as they stare back at me, they almost feel warm. The way he's looking back at me is how I'd hoped he would look at me the first time he saw me. I don't know what I want him to see, but whatever he sees is better than what he saw earlier."Do we really have to take her?"
His words from earlier flick through my mind, and I pull my arm out of his grip. "I'll stay, but we don't have to talk." I don't need any more forced apologies or reminders of how he never wanted me here to begin with. I'm trying to make the best of an afternoon I didn't choose either.
"Okay…" He furrows his brow and pinches his lips. "But I was going to tell you about the fish and show you how to take the hook out."
"Yeah, sure. We can talk about fish."
"The whiskers on a catfish aren't what sting you," he says as he grabs the fish by its stomach. "It's the spine and the tips of the fins. If you don't touch those parts, it's just like any other fish." He holds the fish between us and examines it as it opens and closes its wide mouth. "Sometimes when you catch a fish, the hook gets lodged deep in its throat, and you can't get the hook out. In that case, we have to cut the line to release the fish."
"Wait, does that mean he's going to die? I mean, the hook is lodged inside of him."
"Yeah, he won't live that long if we throw him back."
"If? What does that mean? What else would we do with it?"
He looks at me and flashes me a grin, a sincere smile that makes my tummy turn. "We eat him." And just like that, the butterflies are gone. I eat meat. I understand things must die in order for me to enjoy them, but being the hunter… I don't know how I feel about that. "We don't have to; we can release him," he adds when he sees the unease on my face.
"No, it's okay. We can eat it. I'd rather his life serve a purpose. If we eat him, he fed us; if we let him go, he dies for nothing, and I don't like that."
