"You do." My words were caught between a question and statement, not quite either one.
"Sure. Of course. I wouldn't be here, otherwise."
I cast my own line on the other side of the launch. "What would you be doing, if you weren't here with me?"
She toyed with the rod in her hands, idly clicking the reel forward a single click at a time. "I don't know. Reading. Watching a movie."
"Which movie would you watch?"
She leaned back and kicked her legs out, propping them up on the side of the boat, only barely holding on to the rod, relaxed. "I don't know, off the top of my head." She pushed her hat brim up so the sun shone directly on her face. "Something mindless and fun. Maybe something a little sexy." She said this last part with a long glance at me.
I cleared my throat. "Something...sexy. Alone?"
She turned her eyes to the bobber on the end of her line. "Sure. It's fun." She nudged my calf with the toe of her boot. "What about you? What would Xavier Badd be doing if he was alone right now?"
"Reading a book on quantum mechanics and building my little robots."
"What kind of robots do you build?"
I shrugged. "They don't really do anything useful." I felt myself relaxing into the conversation, evidenced by my use of a contraction. "They are more for fun, for amusement."
"What do you mean? What do they do that's amusing?"
"Have you ever seen a wind-up toy? Like those little swimmer toys that go in the bathtub? Or the monkeys that clap their hands? A range of movement or motion limited to a single repeated behavior? My robots are somewhat like that."
"And what is quantum mechanics? I know quantum means, like, things are relative. The cat in the box that is neither alive nor dead until you look at it."
"The Schrodinger's cat thought experiment, yes. That is part of it, the uncertainty principle." I went on to explain the basics of quantum mechanics, and found myself lost in the fascinating details.
Eventually, Low reached out and put her hand on my shoulder. "I'm afraid you lost me at 'quantization of energy,' Xavier," she said, laughing. "You're making me feel dumb."
I blushed, stumbling to a stop in the middle of explaining the correspondence principle. "Oh. I--I apologize. I myself am somewhat like a wind-up toy, in that respect. Wind me up on certain topics, and away I go." I noticed her hand had slid from my shoulder to my forearm, resting there with familiarity. "I did not mean to make you feel that way. I truly am sorry."
She just laughed. "I don't know how many people could listen to you talk about quantum mechanics and not feel at least slightly stupid."
"It is a matter of education, not intelligence. I believe you are a vastly intelligent person. You simply do not have the basis of knowledge in physics to follow what I was lecturing you about." I laughed, shaking my head. "What fun, eh? Sitting in a boat, fishing, and being lectured about quantum mechanics. If anyone should feel dumb, it is me."
She slid across the bench seat closer to me. Her hip bumped mine, her shoulder brushed mine, and her hand, once on my forearm, slid to my knee. "I'm having a good time."
My heart hammered in my chest. Her proximity made my head swim, made my pulse slam out of control, made my whole body feel too tight. The region between my belly and thighs, behind my zipper, was aching in a way that made it difficult to think.
I swallowed hard. "You are?"
She nodded, smiling at me. "I told you, I like hanging out with you."
Say something direct, Xavier, I told myself. Say something bold.
"I...I like you--um, hanging out with you, too...I mean."
Her head tilted to one side. "Why'd you change your answer? I was fine with the first one."
"I...well...both are true. I like you. And I am enjoying our time together this morning." I felt a swell of pride in my chest just from that tiny bit of directness.
Discussing myself, my feelings, what I wanted--these were usually impossible for me. I'd spent my whole life trying to be invisible, to avoid being noticed, to seem normal, to fit in, even slightly.
We sat in easy quiet, listening to the birds sing, watching our bobbers, as the sun moved slowly across the sky.
The silence was broken when Low squeaked as her pole was nearly yanked out of her hand. "Oh! Oh my god! I think I have a fish!"
I was shocked out my thoughts at her sudden outburst of excitement. Her pole was bent nearly to snapping, and she was standing up and being pulled forward in the boat, having a hell of a time merely holding on. Whatever she'd hooked, it was huge.
"Give it line," I said. "Don't reel it in. It's too big--it'll snap the line."
"How do I do that?" She was holding on to the rod with both hands, panicking, now.
I tossed my own rod to my feet and, without thinking, stood up behind her and reached around her with both arms, taking the rod and pressing the button to release the line. I was effectively hugging Low from behind, her hair tickling my nose, her body framed by mine. Even as I focused on bringing in the fish, I was hyperaware of her--of her proximity, of her scent, of her warmth. Of the fact that, standing like this, her backside was mere millimeters from the front of my jeans, my zipper, and the aching beast behind it. I had never been so aware of myself in my life as I was in that moment, nor so aware of another person.
Low kept hold of the fishing pole with me, as if she'd forgotten to let go as I fought the fish, reeling it in and then letting it swim away, reeling it in and letting it go, tiring it out. She was leaning backward, now. On purpose? Shifting backward into me. Pressing her back to my chest, clapping as I brought the fish closer to the boat. Her buttocks were pressed flat against my groin, now. Could she feel the evidence of my excitement? I dared not move, for fear of drawing attention to my situation.
She gave no sign of being aware of it, if she was.
"You've almost got it!" Low said, laughing clapping. "It's huge!"
"You do it, now," I encouraged. "Reel it in. It's tired out, so it should come in more easily."
She took over and I let go of the rod, but didn't step away. My head was spinning crazily--I was almost dizzy. Her scent was powerful--jasmine, today, and lavender, and coffee. Her body heat was radiating against me. Her buttocks felt...squishy and yet hard at the same time, pressed against the front of me, against my thighs and pelvis; an intoxicating combination. My hands were shaking, as if merely being this close to Low was causing the adrenaline to rush through me.
She reeled and reeled, and then pressed the button like she'd seen me do, letting the monster fish flip away a few feet, and then reeled it in again. The next time she gave it line, it just floated in place, not trying to swim away, exhausted now.
"Reel it all the way in," I said.
The reel sang, and then the pole was bending over, the tip dripping as she lifted the fish, with no small amount of exertion, out of the water.
"Grab the line and lift it up so we can see it." I dug my phone out of my back pocket and held it up, bringing up the camera as she held the monster fish up beside her. "Smile!"
Low's grin of excitement faltered. "No pictures, please." Her response was immediate and sounded almost automatic, or practiced.
I frowned. "I thought you would want a photograph of yourself with your first fish, which is a rather impressively large specimen."
She stared at me, and then glanced down at the fish. And then a new smile flashed across her face. "Sure. Yeah, you're right." She held up the fish, smiling brightly, pointing at the fish with her other hand. "Cheese!"
I laughed as I snapped a few photos. "I've never heard an adult say cheese for a picture outside the presence of children. That was rather adorable of you, I must say."
"Can I see them?" she asked, sounding anxious.
I handed her the phone and took the rod and the fish. "Is there something wrong?"
She sighed, lowering the phone to smile at me. "No, not at all. I'm just...I'm weird about having my picture taken."
"I do not see
why you would be." I reminded myself to be bold, to be direct. "You are a devastatingly beautiful woman, Low. Any camera fortunate enough to capture your image is truly blessed indeed. And I, spending this time with you, am most fortunate of all."
Low's laugh was disbelieving, her smile so excruciatingly lovely I could no more look away than I could swim to Hawaii from here. "You have one hell of a way with words, Xavier."
"It is nothing but the truth."
"Well, thank you." She held up the phone. "I'm going to send this to myself."
"All right." The fish flopped and wriggled on the line. "I'm going to release him, now, all right?"
"You know it's a boy fish? How?"
I unhooked the fish and tossing it into the water, where it sank for a moment and then flicked its fin, darting away.
"Oh, no," I said, laughing. "I don't know its gender. That was merely an expression."
I heard my phone bloop as the photo sent, and she handed the phone back to me. The message she'd typed to accompany the photo:
Xavier, I'm very private, so please do not share my phone number with anyone. But feel free to message me, if you want to.
I clicked the phone to sleep and put it in my pocket, casting a glance at Low, who was sitting down again, arm stretched out across the back of the seat, face tipped toward the sun, smiling happily.
"You seem to have some very specific feelings regarding privacy and solitude," I remarked.
I sat down beside her, not casting the lines again just yet; I sat close to her, but not as close as she'd been a few moments ago, before the fish had bitten her hook.
She spoke without looking at me, face still tipped up to the sun. "Yeah, I guess I just like my solitude, and prefer to stay private."
"I do not know your reasons for those preferences, nor shall I ask," I said, hesitating over my next words. "But...I hope you will believe me when I say I will not ever do anything to violate your privacy. And if my presence ever begins to infringe upon your solitude, I trust you'll make me aware? I would never wish to overstay my welcome in your presence."
This got her to look at me. "Thank you, Xavier. It means more than you know to hear you say that."
"Do you want to keep fishing?"
She shook her head. "No, not particularly. I'd rather just troll around in the boat, if that's all right with you." She grinned at me. "Although, that was pretty exciting."
I put the rods away as Brock had done, and turned over the motor. "My brothers will not believe me when I tell them how large your fish was. They will say it is a fish story."
She eyed me with a pleased grin. "It was pretty big, huh?"
I nodded. "Easily a foot long and nearly ten pounds. They will be quite jealous." I watched her expression shift, the grin falling away at my words. "You seem unhappy again. Why?"
"You plan to show them the photo?"
I shook my head. "That would be breaking your trust, as I assumed you would not want me to share that photograph with anyone. So no, I will not."
"What if they ask if you took a picture?"
I grinned. "A tertiary benefit to my unusually formal manner of speech is that others are frequently unable to decipher when I am lying."
"I bet." She poked me in the arm. "I wouldn't have pegged you for someone who told lies, though."
"I am not. I rarely have reason to."
"That's good," Low said, her voice oddly inflected, in a way I couldn't read. "Truth is good."
I took her the rest of the way up the inlet, rounding the two islands and returning south again. We went slowly. We were both inclined to silence, it seemed, and it was not a tense or awkward silence, but rather a companionable one, in which we both enjoyed the beauty of our surroundings.
A shadow slid across the surface of the water and I glanced up; above us was a bald eagle floating lazily. I reached over and tapped Low on the shoulder, and then gestured to the massive, magnificent bird, which was only a hundred or so feet above us and clearly visible.
Low's breath caught, and she clapped her hand over her mouth. "Wow! It's...god, it's huge!" She glanced at me in awe, grinning. She whipped her sunglasses off and shielded her eyes with her palm, watching as the eagle circled. "What do you think it's doing?"
I shrugged. "Just circling, perhaps? I do not know. It may be tracking a fish."
She clapped her hands. "Do you think we might see it catch one?"
"I don't know. I have never seen that happen either. That would be exciting indeed!"
I slowed the boat to a stop and cut the engine, and we both watched the eagle soar. It just circled for a few minutes, and then floated down to settle on the branch of a tree jutting out over the water. We were within two hundred of feet of it, our boat bobbing in the gentle swells. For a long while, we just sat and watched the eagle. I was about to start the engine again when the eagle spread its wings, leaned forward, and with one powerful downstroke, took off, angled low, darting across the water.
"Oh my god! Oh my god!" Low said, in an excited whisper. "It's--look, Xavier! It's gonna catch one!" She reached out and grabbed my hand, her entire being humming with excited energy, a smile so wide and so bright her features were utterly transformed.
The eagle tucked its wings in, stooping down toward the water, and then, at the last moment, its wings slammed forward and its feet extended, wickedly curved talons grazing the surface--and then it struck, water splashing, its wings curving to catch at the air. It happened in a split second, the strike. And then it was beating its wings and streaking skyward, a huge salmon writhing in its talons. It flew across the channel and landed on a branch, its beak slicing into the luckless fish.
Low, laughing, leaned into me, her whole body catching up against mine. "That was amazing! I never thought I'd see something like that actually happen in real life!"
It was difficult to breathe. Her scent choked me, her heat suffused me, overwhelmed me. Her weight against me left my whole body trembling.
She pulled away to look up at me, mere inches away. Her eyes were so large, and so blue, and utterly hypnotic. I could feel her pulse. The softness of her breasts against my chest left me aching.
I was suddenly overwhelmed.
I fought it.
Don't panic.
This is normal.
A part of me was deliriously overjoyed at her closeness, at the mere fact that a woman, any woman, was voluntarily this near to me, touching me. That she seemed to genuinely like me. That she was spending time with me, and didn't seem put off by my quirks and strange speech patterns and formal syntax.
Another part of me was doubtful--what ulterior motive did she have? Surely she had one. Why else would a woman as obviously wealthy and worldly wise and beautiful want to have anything to do with me? Why would someone like Low deign to waste her time with an awkward, nerdy nobody like me?
Memories of a certain experience from high school bubbled up inside me. I pushed them away, but it was futile.
Have you ever been with a girl, Xavier? That sly, lascivious tone of voice, the way Brittany had slunk toward me, stalking, prancing, preening under my naive attention.
Do you like me, Xavier?
Do you think I'm pretty?
You want to touch me, don't you? Go ahead, I don't mind. In fact, I might even like it.
And then, moments after she'd said that, the knife had been inserted, directly into my back and twisted. A metaphorical knife, but no less painful. I clamped down on the memory, involuntarily tensing and shrinking away from Low.
Low frowned up at me. "Is something wrong?"
I breathed deeply in through my nose and out through my mouth, pushing away the panic the memory brought up. "No, it's fine."
Her hand was on my chest, resting directly over my sternum, and then sliding to cover my heart. "Your heart is beating really hard," she murmured, still so close I could smell the coffee on her breath and the scent of her hair and feel her body heat. "Are you okay?
I didn't know what to
do with my hands. One hovered near her shoulder, the other rested on the side of the boat--I clenched my jaw and forced my hand to relax, to drift down and to settle on her shoulder. I felt the softness of her sweater, and the firmness of her bone and muscle and flesh beneath the fabric.
"Yes. I am well." I sounded even more robotic and Spock-like than ever, because I wasn't well.
I was in a bewildering daze of panic and sensation, memory and present, desire and fear. Her body was so close, pressed almost intimately against mine, leaning against me, gazing up at me. If this was a movie, the hero would dip down and kiss the lady, and she would lift up and wrap her arms around his neck, and he would do something clever that somehow removed her clothing without breaking the kiss. James Bond, were he in this situation, would lay her flat down on the bench, and her feet would wrap up around his back. She would laugh, lustily, as he kissed her with masterful skill.
I, being me, panicked.
"Low, I--" My breath caught, choking off my words.
She seemed to sense my distress and lifted up, but in so doing, dragged her breasts up my chest--even disguised by the thick sweater, it was clear she was exceedingly well-endowed, and I had a mental image of the way she'd looked earlier, on the yacht, those beautiful breasts only barely covered. That image was burned into my mind.
"Xavier, you have to breathe, you know." She said this with a teasing laugh, her fingers tapping at my chest. "Breathe, Xavier. Take a breath."
I gasped, her words reminding me that I had in fact stopped breathing.
She laughed again, breathily. "You told me you think I'm beautiful, but I didn't think you meant literally breathtaking."
My hand had been on her shoulder, resting on the slope of it, and when she had lifted up in concern, my palm had slid downward, so I could feel the strap of her bra underneath the sweater. This only made my distress worse. "No, I--I...yes, I meant it literally. You are so beautiful that you actually, in literal point of fact, make it hard for me to breathe."
"Well, geez, Xavier, don't, like, pass out, okay?"
"If you were somehow to become even the slightest amount more lovely than you are, I would pass out."
She laughed, shaking her head. "Oh, Xavier."
I frowned. "What?"
"The things you say. You're gonna give a girl a complex."
"What does that mean?"
She was so close, her nose was nearly nudging mine, and I felt the breath of her words on my skin, on my lips. "It means when you say things like that, I get..." she trailed off with a breathy giggle.
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