A Thin Line-

by DL White

  Except me?

  In a swift movement, I sit up and plant a kiss on Preston's lips. When I pull back, I giggle at his expression. "Hi, handsome. Good morning."

  "Uh. Hello. You're... okay?"

  "Yeah. You're right. We only have a couple of days left here. I'm wasting time that could be much better spent."

  His eyebrows shoot upward. "Much better spent, you say?"

  By early afternoon, the whole gang is on the hotel bus, traveling a dark paved road toward the deep blue waters flanked on either side by rock formations. The bus is full, so it's not just our group headed toward the river where we'll don lifejackets and climb into kayaks and drift.

  Up front, our guide explains the safety precautions and hands out a stack of forms and enough pens to go around.

  The guys talk shop about Keith's vintage, banana yellow '77 Corvette, which he bought as a pet project before their first child— now eight years old— was born. Soon, it becomes a project of sorts, a challenge to Keith to be cruising International Boulevard by summer.

  The bus makes a wide turn into a rudimentary parking lot of gravel. As we pile off the bus, life vests in hand, we give our waiver slips to the guide.

  "Here, let me get that for you.” Preston turns me around, snaps the black fasteners together, and then pulls the straps so they're snug. "Too tight? Not tight enough?"

  “It’s good. You want me to get yours?" I turn around and do him the same favor.

  From the parking lot, the surface of the river appears calm. The kayaks are lined up along the shore, ready for groups of two. Our guides will give instructions from the boats in front of and behind us. Jackie will ride in the boat with the head guide.

  Nate and Morgan step into their kayak, Nate in front. Everyone else follows suit: Troy and Jade, Brandess, and Keith. Matthew appears to have seen a kayak in the last year since he commandeers a single man craft and already looks like a pro.

  Preston steps into the first opening and sits, and then turns to me, still standing on the bank. He stares for a long moment, and the effort he’s putting into not laughing is not lost on me.

  "Are you waiting for an invitation?"

  "No. I'm getting ready."

  "For what? Someone to pick you up and put you in the boat? Let's go."

  But my feet don't move. I am afraid to get into this little wooden contraption and float down the river. I don't even know if I can still swim!

  Preston stands, then steps out of the kayak. He grips me by my forearms and pulls me so close; his forehead touches mine.

  "We don't have to do this," he says, his voice near a whisper. "We can have the bus take us back, and we'll do something else. Just me and you. Say the word. It's okay if you don't want to get in this thing."

  “I—I don't want to go back," I manage to spit out. “But I'm... I'm scared."

  I feel brave for even letting that word fall from my mouth. And simultaneously stupid for being scared. It's my job to get in the face of some of the most unscrupulous attorneys in Orange County. But this little wooden thing, that hundreds have floated in and survived, scares the crap out of me?

  "I'm right here, baby. Nothing will happen to you. And you see this?" He grips my orange life vest, dingy and faded from many trips up and down the river. "I made this extra safe and extra tight. Just in case."

  My eyes flick upward; I'm sure full of the fear that shoots down my back. "Just in case what?"

  Preston laughs. “Don't think about it. You're fine. It's going to be okay. Get in, alright? It'll be fun. I promise."

  I nod, take a breath, and let Preston guide me into the kayak. Once I'm securely in the seat, Preston resumes his spot. He's handed a thick plank of wood as long as he is tall. We receive some last-minute instruction from the guides, and then they push each kayak into the water.

  My heart is in my throat. No turning back now.

  I distract myself by watching Preston dip the paddle into the water on the left, and then on the right, then the left and then the right. The muscles in his back ripple through the thin white shirt he's wearing. His biceps bulge with each stroke, and the muted breath he heaves with each dip is… sexy.

  Okay, I don’t mind this view.

  I settle in and relax. The day is gorgeous, clear blue skies, warm but not hot. Birds fly above, wildlife scurries about on the land around the river, the sound of the water gently churns around the hull. The scene is hypnotic and calming.

  "How are you, back there?" Preston calls over his shoulder, while the paddle dips into the water on the left. The others are a few feet ahead, all of us lazily winding our way downriver.

  "I'm good. This is so relaxing. Are you going to have to row the entire time?"

  "Nah," he answers, over his right shoulder this time. "Eventually, we can coast. The current isn't strong here, so I'm pushing us along. Check out Troy over there, though." He tips his head toward his brother and Jade in their kayak.

  Troy is already sweating, heaving with every dip into the water. He and Jade might have to trade places, eventually. I laugh at the thought of his girlfriend being hardier than him.

  “Bro!” Preston calls. “Relax, man. You don't have to work that hard. Save your energy for the rapids."

  Troy seems to heave a sigh of relief and stops chopping into the water like a mad man. They float among everyone else, guiding kayaks into line behind us. I watch the scenery roll by and let it sink in that I'm in a kayak on a river on St. Lucia with all my friends. And Preston.

  I let myself breathe a sigh of happiness and slump down in my seat.

  "You good?” Preston asks without turning around.

  I nod, but he can't see me, so I accompany it with, "Yup. Just happy."

  He's silent for a few seconds, then says, “Good. That's good."

  For more than an hour, we float, coast, and drift downriver. The ride seems easy enough that I'm not even sure what the big deal is about kayaking until I see the white caps topping the waves and the loud rush of water ahead of us.

  The guide in the lead boat stands, his bullhorn in hand. "These waters are a little rough, but not bad. Row steadily, maintain control, don't lean to one side or the other." He pauses, then adds, "Passengers, don't panic. Sit up straight, don't lean. We'll be through this patch in no time, and then we'll break for lunch."

  I'm nervous, understandably. I never knew water could roar so loudly, and I'm not convinced that we can make it through these waves. The current is already swift, throwing itself around the body of the kayak, pulling us here and there. Preston is, somehow, skillfully navigating the path around the rocks and through the rushing water.

  "Uhm...Preston..."

  "One second, baby. I'm playing Indiana Jones right now."

  I sit up, focusing on the muscles in his back, working in symphony, bulging and rippling, then resting, then working again. His neck is red from sun exposure. We put on sunblock, but he’ll need more when we stop for lunch. After we get out of this rough terrain, through which I'm holding onto the kayak so tight that my joints ache.

  Relax, relax, relax, I tell myself. Even though I know it's nearly impossible, I've convinced myself that I can cause us to tip over by moving. I'm deathly still, staring at Preston's back, waiting for the moment when the river isn’t fighting for our souls.

  Very suddenly, the waters seem much calmer. The river gurgles and ripples; there are no crashing waves. I breathe a quiet sigh of relief.

  "You alive back there? Did you need something?" Preston twists around to talk to me, the oar balanced on his knees. He is wet with either sweat or mist from the river. His eyes sparkle, and his smile spreads ear to ear. The laugh lines tell me he's having a ball.

  "I'm alive.” I even manage a genuine smile. "I needed you to be careful and not kill us, but you already had it handled."

  "It hurts my feelings that you doubt that I'll take care of you."

  "I'm the one back here trying to remember if my will is up to date."

  "I've got it
under control. You trust me?"

  "Yes, I trust you." I pause, then add. "It's the river I don't trust."

  He chuckles, the sound echoing through the canyon of high rocks. "Hey, you know what this reminds me of?"

  “That summer that we went to that kid's camp?" I grin, the memories rolling back. That would be the first and last time I saw a kayak. "And you wonder why I'm scared to be in this thing with you.”

  "I didn't mean to tip it over..."

  "And you didn't mean to forget that I was wearing a white t-shirt."

  "Do you blame me?" His grin is evil and mischievous. I can't help but adore it. “You were spectacular."

  Troy rolls past us, and if a kayak could saunter, his would be doing it. "Are you guys talking about that time at Chippewa Youth Camp, when Preston threw Angie out of the kayak so her shirt would get wet and he could see her tittays?”

  "I didn't throw her out of the kayak."

  "You made it tip so I would fall out. Same thing."

  "And that's not why I—never mind. I've been tried and convicted by a jury of my brother and my girlfriend.”

  “Giiiirlllfriennnd.” Keith mocks, rowing past us. “Took you long enough, Preston.”

  “Yeah, go ahead and shut the fuck up, man.”

  Preston dips an oar into the water and pushes us forward. I smile at the distant memories of that summer when we'd begun to notice each other, and Preston's preteen hormones were raging and wild.

  Mine weren't all that wholesome either. Preston’s swim trunks clung to his body, and I lived to watch him come out of the water, the fabric of his shorts outlining his assets.

  “You did that shit on purpose, Preston. You wanted to see me wet.”

  "I was thirteen. How do you hold that against a thirteen-year-old? Come on. Titties, man.”

  "They have gotten you into a lot of trouble."

  "Hey, don't get mouthy. I'll do it again."

  "The guy said you couldn't tip these things."

  "He said you couldn't easily tip them. It can be done."

  "I don't think so, Preston."

  "You don't, huh?" Preston takes off like a bolt of lightning, using the oar to speed us along the river, passing up Keith and Brandess, then Nate and Morgan. Then, in a sudden, jerky move, he shoves his body to one side of the kayak, causing us to roll to the right.

  I'm screaming while laughing, but I still don't seriously think he can tip this craft until he gives us another shove. The boat rolls too far to the right, and our body weight sends us over the edge. I land in the water mid-scream… and sink below the surface.

  Seconds later, I bob back up, spitting water and hopping mad. Preston holds me by the straps of my lifejacket, far enough away that my windmill of slaps and punches don't land.

  “Let me go, asshole!"

  "I told you I could tip it." I hear the giggle in his voice, and this pisses me off more. "You should never dare me, Angie. You know that."

  "I didn't dare you, motherfucker! I said I didn't think you could tip it. That wasn’t a challenge.”

  "Same thing," he answers, with a shrug of a shoulder.

  "It's so not the same fucking thing!" I lunge at him, but the guide boat comes around.

  "Alright, kids. Break it up." His expression says he’s trying hard not to laugh. Jackie is bent over as far as her belly will allow and laughing enough for both of them. He pulls me up out of the water by gripping me under my arms. "Rest here. You'll get back into your kayak after lunch."

  He then leans over the side of the boat and says to Preston, "Sir, I need you to grab that craft and float it over to that flat, grassy land there. That's where we'll break."

  Preston tosses the oar into the empty vessel and grips the edge of it, doggy paddling his way toward the shore. I hope he's sufficiently embarrassed, but knowing Preston, he's so damn proud of himself.

  Everyone pushes their kayaks up onto the bank, then climbs out for our picnic lunch. From the guide boat comes a cooler of sandwiches and drinks, bags of chips, paper plates, and napkins. I grab a ham and cheese sandwich and a bag of chips and plant myself in a spot on the grass. Thankfully, I thought far enough ahead to wear a swimsuit under my shorts and t-shirt, so I slip them off and lay them out in the sun, hoping they'll dry a bit before we have to get back in the kayak.

  Preston hikes the hill with his sandwich, chips, and a bottle of water. Undeterred by my scowl and angry chewing, he plops down beside me, legs crossed, and unwraps his sandwich.

  "How is it?"

  "It's a sandwich,” I snap through clenched teeth.

  "Alright, alright. You’re not biting your tongue with me anymore, I see. I was having a little fun."

  "At my expense. It's always at my expense. Your idea of having fun is to embarrass me or scare me. We can't even joke about tipping a kayak without you having to prove something. You’re still lashing out at me. Why should I be with you if you're still going to treat me the same?"

  He doesn't answer, but I don't expect him to. His legs are bent, elbows propped on his knees. He chews slowly, the slowest I've ever seen him eat a sandwich, bite after bite, and then balls up the plastic wrap and tosses it into the box we're using to collect garbage.

  "It wasn't like that," he finally says. "I was never lashing out at you. I was trying to get your attention. Showing off. Bra snapping."

  “You have my attention, Preston. What are you going to do with it?”

  He looks over at me, his face full of genuine concern. "Are you okay? Did you get hurt, falling out?"

  "I'm fine," I tell him. "It didn't hurt. I was mad. And surprised. But you know... we're on a river, and I had my swimsuit on.”

  He unscrews the cap on his water and takes a swig. After a few meaningful moments, he leans into me and says, "I did tip the kayak on purpose back then. The guys all said if you get a girl's shirt wet, you can see her boobs right through it. I wanted to see you.”

  I smile and elbow him. "I knew that. Was it boobs this time too?"

  “Nah. I get to see those every day if I want, now.” He slurps down the rest of his water. He crushes the bottle and tosses it into the recycling box.

  I ate about half my sandwich and a few bites of chips, but I decide I am done and hand my leftovers to him. I expect him to toss them into the garbage, but he finishes them off.

  "Worked up an appetite, did you?"

  He glances at me, wiggles his brows a few times, his eyes sparkling again. "Not just for food. Wait until tonight."

  Warmth fills the pit of my belly. I recognize it, but don't want to acknowledge it. Instead, I lean up against him, my hands clasped around the bulk of his bicep. "You're an asshole. I don't know when you turned into him, and sometimes I hate him.”

  “You know when I turned into him. But he's your asshole."

  I tip my head up, so our lips meet and peck him on the lips."No more kayak tipping, please? I can only take one of those incidences today."

  "Can I still snap your bra?"

  I eye Preston, never more serious. “When you start buying La Perla bras, you can snap them. Till then, keep your mitts off. I don’t want you stretching them out.”

  I push myself up, brushing grass off of my bare legs. Preston watches me with deliberate determination before he stands and does the same. I reach for the clothes I laid out. They're slightly drier, but I have no desire to put wet clothes back on. I hand them to Jackie to lay out somewhere on the boat and step back inside our kayak in my swimsuit and life vest.

  "Nah. Nuh-uh,” Preston says. "You get in front so that I can see you. I'll still row, but there's no way you're in that hotness behind me.”

  I roll my eyes but smile and move to the front seat. It's much different up front, where Preston's back does not block me. I'm hoping we don't have any wild currents this afternoon. I'm in the mood to coast.

  31

  "Next time, when I’m not the size of a house, I want to be in the kayak." Jackie leans against Matthew in a pink maternity sundress. She
rubs her round belly mindlessly, and I can tell by her expression that she has cycled from hungry to sleepy. Still, she’s the most beautiful pregnant woman I’ve ever seen.

  Dinner is a laid back, beachside affair— fire-grilled shrimp and crab legs, baked potatoes, and corn on the cob around a crackling, sparking fire. The sunset gives everything a fiery, rosy glow, making the scene so romantic.

  As romantic as a scene can be with eight of your closest friends.

  "We should find out if we can kayak on Victoria." Morgan directs this to Nate. "We'd have to rent some. "

  "Probably. I've seen kayaks out there," says Nate.

  "And I bet we could go out on Lake Conway, right Preston?"

  He's been quiet most of the night and throughout the conversation, leaning up against the base of a palm tree. The only reason I'm sitting up is that I'm leaning against him, my back at his chest. Preston lifts his shoulders a shrug. "Probably. Seems deep enough."

  "Preston's house is closer to everyone," says Keith. "We're at least an hour from Victoria."

  I sense Preston tensing up, and I don't know why. He loves to host at his house.

  “When I have this baby and get my beach body back—” The group laughs. Jackie flips them all the bird with both hands. "Fuck all of y’all,” she says, but I hear the mirth in her voice. She points to Morgan. "Especially you. I'm laughing my ass off when you're uncomfortably pregnant."

  "Haha," Morgan offers back. "I wonder if it's still warm enough to go out again this year. Preston, how often do you see boats out on the lake in October or November?"

  “Snowbirds will jet ski in December if the temp is over sixty.” Preston shifts, as if he's uncomfortable, which makes me shift. "The thing is, guys... I don't want to kill the vibe, but my house might not be available next summer."

  Troy snorts. “Because you and Angie are gonna create a love nest that no one else can penetrate?"

  “I like how you think, but no. My uncle is coming back to Florida. He might want his house back. I'm planning on him wanting his house back."