Page 15 of Stick Break
The red and white thing.”
I laugh. “I thought this was grenade.” I pick it up and examine it. “Kind of looks like one. You don’t use this to blow the fish out of the water.”
“No, we’re not blowing anything.”
Blow.
God.
We both go deathly silent for a second and when he clears his throat, and holds out his hand, I place the bobber in his palm.
* * *
He goes about doing something fancy as he ties it to my line.
“Come here.”
He places his hands gently on my arms and draws me in, chest to back, no space. No air. Just heat. “This is how you hold it.
He positions my fingers with careful precision, and I swear my brain short circuits. His thighs brush mine, his chest is soldi and warm against my back and I can feel his heartbeat thudding against my spine in a steady rhythm that seems to be hypnotizing me.
Focus. Focus...
His callused fingertips skim the line, and all I can think about is how those same fingers would feel tracing down my bare skin.
Get it together girl.
I move against him and a sound catches in his throat as my ass brushes against his…I don’t know what I just brushed. He shifts to the side and I clear my throat and struggling for something other than what that might have been pressing against me, I blurt out, “This doesn’t seem too hard.”
Hard…
Ugh.
I instantly regret every life choice that brought me to that cursed sentence.
Okay,” He murmurs, his voice deeper now. “You hold your finger on the line here, pull it back like this, and as you cast, let go. The line releases. I watch as the lure plunks into the water and the little bobber bounces like it’s doing the macarena.
“If that bobber dips, it means you have something nibbling.”
Nibbling...
Why is everything about fishing starting to sound like a euphemism?
“And if I get a nibble, what do I do?”
“You tug. Like this.”
Tug…
He gives my line a firm pull, just enough to jolt the breath right out of me.
* * *
“That will hook the fish and you can reel it in.” He steps away from me, finally giving me room to breathe, or possibly combust. I wet my dry lips. “Why don’t you reel it in, and give it a try yourself, while I get my rod read.
Rod...
Fantastic. I am officially thirteen years old.
