Before I can protest, Freddie shouts back, “Ha! Lexie is my paddle minion; she’s the powerhouse of this kayak.”
I feel my face flush crimson. Paddle minion? Really, Freddie? I resist the urge to elbow him in the ribs, reminding myself that tipping us both into the lake probably isn’t the best idea.
“Oh, is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Troy hoots, paddling past us with a wicked grin.
“Ignore them,” Freddie chuckles, his breath warm on my neck. “What do you say, Lex? Ready to show these clowns how it’s done?”
I hesitate for a moment. My natural instinct is to play it safe, to hang back and avoid any more embarrassment. But there’s something about the energy on the lake, the sun on my skin, and yes, even Freddie’s infectious enthusiasm, that makes me want to take a risk.
“Let’s do it,” I grin, surprising myself.
We fall into a rhythm, our paddles slicing through the water in perfect sync. It’s exhilarating—the wind in my hair, the spray on my face. For a moment, I forget to be afraid, forget to overthink. I just…am.
We’re gaining on Ethan and Troy, the gap closing with each stroke. I can hear Tara cheering from the shore, her voice carrying across the water. Even Alfie, sitting next to her, seems to be getting into the spirit, his normally expressionless face showing a hint of a smile.
We’re neck and neck now, the buoy tantalizingly close. Ethan’s shouting something about unfair advantages, while Troy laughs so hard he can barely steer straight.
In our excitement, we lean a bit too far to one side. I feel the kayak start to tip, my heart leaping into my throat.
“Freddie!” I yelp, panic setting in.
His arm is around my waist in an instant, steadying me, steadying us. “I’ve got you,” he says, his voice calm and sure. “We’re okay.”
We right ourselves, but his arm lingers a moment longer than strictly necessary. I’m hyper-aware of the warmth of his skin against my damp t-shirt, the gentle pressure of his hold.
The moment is broken by a splash and a string of colorful curses. Ethan, in his haste to win, has managed to capsize his kayak. Troy is doubled over with laughter, barely staying upright himself.
As Ethan splutters and flails, trying to right his kayak, I can’t help but join in the laughter. It bubbles up from somewhere deep inside, a place I didn’t even know existed anymore. It feels good. It feels…free.
“See?” Freddie says, his voice filled with mirth. “Best paddle assistant ever.”
I roll my eyes, but I’m grinning too hard to really be annoyed. “Keep it up, and you’ll be swimming back to shore,” I threaten, but there’s no real heat behind it.
“Well, I guess that’s one way to cool off.”
I turn to look at him, still giggling. His hair is damp and tousled, his eyes bright with mirth. For a moment, our gazes lock, and I feel a jolt of…something. Something that both thrills and terrifies me.
“Yeah,” I manage, my voice a bit breathless. “I guess it is.”
We paddle over to help Ethan, who’s still splashing around like an angry cat in a bathtub.
“Need a hand there, Michael Phelps?” Freddie calls out, barely containing his laughter.
Ethan glares at us, his hair plastered to his forehead. “I had it under control,” he grumbles, grabbing onto the side of our kayak.
“Oh yeah, totally,” I deadpan. “I’m sure the fish were very impressed with your backstroke.”
Freddie snorts, and a thrill runs through me at making him laugh. Who knew I could be funny?
After a lot of maneuvering (and plenty of colorful curses from Ethan), we finally get him back into his kayak. By the time we’re done, we’re all soaked and breathless from laughing.
“All right, you comedians,” Troy calls out. “How about we take a break? I’m starving.”
Troy paddles with effortless ease, looking like he just stepped out of a college recruitment brochure with his perfect blonde waves and megawatt smile. The genetic lottery was definitely kind to the Hawkins siblings.
We paddle back to a small, secluded cove where Tara is waiting with a cooler full of sandwiches and drinks. As I clamber out of the kayak, legs wobbly from sitting so long, Freddie’s hand steadies me.
“Thanks,” I mumble, hyper-aware of his touch.
