Page 63 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
A huge rock overlooks the rapid, and we stretch out, the sun warming my bare arms and legs. The water is loud—I understand now why spectators at the Green Race ring cowbells—but it’s soothing too. I lean back on my hands and close my eyes. There are so many decisions in my future. But I don’t have to make any of them rightnow.
“Hey, I’ve got a favor to ask,” Brody says, breaking the silence.
“Okay.”
“I debated whether to ask you because I don’t want you to feel like you have to say yes. It’s not a big deal if you can’t do it.”
“Just ask. I can almost promise I’m going to want to say yes.”
He grins. “Don’t speak too soon.”
“Brody.”
“Okay, okay. So, the Fourth of July is next Saturday,” he says, “and I’ve got this kayaking trip planned with Griffin and a couple other guys. Actually, you just met one of them. Ryan. Anyway, we’re hoping to head up to Robbinsville to hit the Cheoah River, and we need a shuttle bunny.”
My brain temporarily hitches on the date. I’m supposed to fly to London late afternoon on the fifth—a trip Brody still doesn’t know about. But we can circle back to that. If it’s just a day trip, it shouldn’t interfere anyway. I raise my eyebrows. “A shuttle what?”
He grins. “A shuttle bunny. Someone who can drop us off at the put-in, then drive downriver to meet us at the take-out when we finish.” He runs a hand across his face, like he’s nervous I won’t want to do it. “It would pretty much be the entire day, so if you feel like you’ve got too much to do...”
“No, I’d love to do it,” I say. “Especially if there are places where I can watch.” A thrill shoots through me at the idea of watching Brody kayak.
“There are a few places. Are you sure you wouldn’t mind? It would eat up any chance of you having any kind of Fourth of July celebration, and it would just be you and...four guys.”
“You’re the only person in town I would spend the Fourth of July with anyway. I promise I don’t mind. And I can handle four guys. I promise I’ve handled worse.”
“Great. That’s awesome.” His obvious enthusiasm sends a little beat of joy to my heart. “We’re wanting to leave Triple Mountain around seven a.m. Can I pick you up a little before?”
“Sounds perfect. I’ll be...” My words trail off when Brody tenses beside me, his eyes focused upriver.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Kayakers.”
“Are they doing the portage thing like Griffin did?”
He stands up and offers me his hand so I can do the same. “It looks like they’re going to run it. At least one of them is.”
“Do you know who they are?”
Brody hasn’t taken his eyes off the river. “I can’t tell from here.”
A couple of guys come running down the trail, stopping just past us, and turn to face the rapid. One of them is holding what looks like a rope tucked inside a bag.
“Did someone fall in?” I ask.
“Not yet.” Brody’s entire body is tense. “But if someone does, his buddy better not throw the rope from there.”
The kayaker crests the rapid, and I hold my breath. He disappears into the whitewater, but then his boat pops up, upside down. The water churns around the kayak, knocking it against a boulder. For all I know, the kayaker is still suspended beneath it, but then Brody swears and takes off running down the trail. “He’s swimming,” he calls to the guy with the rope. “Give me the rope, give me the rope!”
The guy must trust that Brody knows what he’s doing because he hands it over without question. Rope in hand, Brody keeps running. I follow as far as I can, but then he’s off the trail and cutting across the water, shimmying and leaping over rocks like a gazelle, and I don’t trust myself to go any further. Not without compromising my own safety, which would only complicate things for Brody.
Because he is obviously on a rescue mission.
A little further down the trail, the path turns, and I suddenly have a vantage point of Brody, crouched low and braced against a boulder, tugging the kayaker, who is holding onto the rope, toward the shore. The two other kayakers, who followed thesame path I did, stop beside me. “That was wicked,” one of them mutters.
“Dude. I told him he shouldn’t run it,” the other guy says.
I can hardly focus on their conversation because I am too hung up on the fact that Brody just turned into a freaking superhero.
