16
Not a Problem
August 2007
Walking along the wooden planks, my feet still wet from the morning dew, I take in the serenity of Guelph Lake as Keaton, Coy, and I set up three chairs along the edge of the rickety dock. It’s barely six o’clock in the morning, and I’m slightly regretting begging the guys to let me join in on their last fishing trip of the summer (one I’d promised I wouldn’t be a “needy girl” on, as Keaton had so kindly called me).
Surprisingly, it had been McCoy who’d said I could tag along, making my brother all pissy. Keaton had relented but said, “Fine, McCoy, but she’s your problem.” To which Coy had simply nodded in agreement, mumbling something I could’ve sworn sounded like “She’s never a problem”, but I couldn’t be sure because—let’s face it—my brain is totally biased and would want to lead my heart to believe that whatever McCoy said had been in my favour.
That’s how I got here, in the middle of a “guys’” fishing trip at the crack of dawn, eyeing a slimy worm that my brother is egging me to hook on my line.
“I told you, I’m not helping you, East. I’ve shown you how to do it; you’re on your own now. You wanted to fish, so fish.” He nods towards my Styrofoam cup, filled with dirt and squirming bait, before walking to the end of the dock and casting out his line.
Shaking my head, I bite my tongue, trying desperately to not whine like Keaton has been expecting. Instead, I ignore the urge to pout, deciding I can do this, I’ll show him, as I reach down and dig a worm out of the cup.
“I’m sorry, little guy,” I say, looking at the poor thing I was surely about to torture with my inexperienced hands. Then I feel Coy slouching down beside me.
“You won’t hurt him if you’re quick about it, Sprinkles,” McCoy chuckles. “He won’t hold it against you, I promise.” I lift my head so my eyes meet his. Nodding appreciatively, I take a deep breath and reach for my hook.
“Keat’s right. I shouldn’t have come. I’m not sure I can do this,” I admit.
“Sure you can. We’ll do it together,” he says, placing his hand over mine, his gentle touch sending a shiver down my spine.
McCoy was changing. Over the summer, he started transitioning from the cute, handsome boy I’d crushed on into the stronger, more manly version I feel so close to me now. Broader shoulders are becoming more apparent through the way his T-shirts are moulding around his chest and arms, fitting a little more tightly than in the months before. Traces of dark facial hair line his jaw, creating what I’d always heard described as a five o’clock shadow, just visible in the early morning light. And there’s a hue of velvet that can be heard in his voice now when he speaks, one I’m positive will only sound sexier as time goes on.
“I’d like that,” I reply, looking into his glacier-coloured eyes. They hold mine with the same intensity.
“Great! Let’s do this, then,” he says. He tells me to stand, and I do. I hold my rod in front of us, preparing to sacrifice my first worm when Coy looks to the left to make sure Keaton isn’t watching. Then, to my surprise, he baits my line.
“Shhh,” he says, covering his smile with his finger.
Speechless, I nod, managing to mouth a soft “Thank you.”
“Come on, East. Let me show you how to cast,” he winks, then reaches for my free hand, taking it in his before leading us side by side to the edge of the dock, where I spend the better part of the morning casting my line out into the lake with him close behind me.
In the end, McCoy didn’t fish much himself that day. He was too busy baiting my line (when Keaton wasn’t looking), patiently helping me to adjust my stance and techniques, encouraging me, and, best of all, helping me reel in the very first fish I’d ever caught, a striped four-inch perch, with more to follow. It felt like he hadn’t left my side all day, and it was an experience I would never forget. And neither would Keaton, judging from all of his eye-rolling and huffy sighing.
I had just put all of my fish into our cooler when Keaton hoisted it and started leading us back up the path we’d come down hours earlier. I was tired and sunburnt, but my body was buzzing from the fun I’d had this morning with the guys—more specifically, with Coy.
“Not sure what you’re grinning about, East. Don’t think I didn’t see you sucker Coy into doing all the dirty work,” my brother had teased, shaking his head as the three of us walked home along the dirt path in the early afternoon sun.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I bump Keaton’s shoulder with mine, then turn to give Coy a shy “I think we’ve been busted” smile.
“It wasn’t a problem at all,” he replied from behind us, and my heart fluttered.
I’d caught four fish in total, but that wasn’t what had me smiling the rest of the walk home, it was Coy’s comment. I think he had just as good a time as I did.
McCoy Graves was sure to make one hell of a teacher one day, and today I got to experience that firsthand.
August 11, 2007
Dear May,
I love him, I love him, I love him! And I really think he might feel something, too, or at least I keep wishing, willing, and hoping.
Who knew fishing would be so much fun? I’ll definitely try it again (as long as I don’t have to kill the worm).
After fishing, Keaton, Coy, Kami, and I spent the afternoon swimming and playing volleyball in our pool. McCoy and Keaton played against Kam and I, and I swear I caught Coy looking at me a lot. It wasn’t just the sun that made me feel hot today, May, it was Coy checking me out.
I hope this feeling never goes away!
TTFN,
Your super happy friend,
East