Page 3 of Kayak Girl

Kayaking, for me, was more than just a sport. Years ago, burdened with anger and resentment toward my father, my therapist suggested I find a physical outlet to navigate the turbulent emotions that often threatened to overwhelm me. The moment I first glided through the water in a kayak, I was hooked.

Today was just another reminder of why I loved this sport so much. The simplicity of the movements, the solitude, the connection to God’s creation—it all worked to untangle the knotted threads of my frayed emotions. The rhythmic dip and pull of the paddle, the way the water rippled and whispered secrets of resilience as I passed—it was enchanting. I could feel the heaviness lifting, the edges of my worries softening. What I needed next was to channel this newfound serenity into something meaningful. But what? Maybe I could find a wildlife conservation program or volunteer at a children’s home.

Chapter 4

GRAY

The summer camp welcome party had wrapped up twenty minutes ago, but I lingered on the beach. It felt silly, but I couldn’t shake my nagging concern for Kayak Girl—as I’d come to call her in my head. I was practically giving myself whiplash from constantly glancing toward the ocean. So, the moment the party ended; I’d marched over to Ivan, my buddy on lifeguard duty.

“Hey, dude. Any idea how long the woman with the kayak is planning to stay out there?”

He squinted at his clipboard before replying, “Hmm... looks like she’s set for a four-hour paddle.”

“Oh cool. Thanks, man.”

Okay, so I hadn’t missed her. Well, now she’d been out there for three hours and forty-five minutes.

So, like a crazy fool, I ordered lunch from the beach café and ate it on the shore, hoping to catch her return. I didn’t want to talk to her or anything. But for some reason, I needed to know she’d returned safely.

I couldn’t wrap my head around this girl. She seemed to exude a confidence in her words, but her physical presence was charmingly awkward. Especially on top of that ridiculous ladder. Her sunscreen application was excessive, almost as if a two-year-old had emptied a bottle on themselves. Somehow, it was endearing in its lack of pretense. I even thought I glimpsed a blush under all the layers of white lotion, adding a touch of vulnerability to her otherwise bold demeanor. But the moment she took to the water, she transformed. All traces of her earlier awkwardness vanished, replaced by a graceful fluidity that mesmerized me. Watching her paddle away, I realized I was witnessing a rare beauty—one that spoke of strength, passion, and an unspoken depth. She was a paradox, a beautiful mystery. A mystery I had no business trying to solve.

I picked the few crispy fries out of the polystyrene tray that held my lunch and popped them into my mouth one by one.

A shadow fell over half of my body and paused. I waited, and the silence spoke volumes about the owner of the shadow. Weston was a man of few words. I sensed him moving to sit beside me, but I kept my focus on the ocean.

“Since when do you eat oily fish and chips for lunch?” Weston asked.

I glanced at him, taking my time to think of my response. If I didn’t know him, I would have assumed him to be an angry Italian beach bouncer. His permanent scowl, buzz cut, and muscular build intimidated most people. Not to mention his height. Funnily enough, his height was the reason we became friends. As the two tallest boys in our high school, we were often paired together for projects or sports. He just never gave up on sport.

“Not all of us are health fanatics like you. Breakfast was days ago, and I was starving after the welcome party,” I said, while stuffing food in my mouth to prove my claim.

“Whatever. I can read you like a book, bro. You’re waiting for that girl, aren’t you?” he said matter-of-factly, like he was a judge declaring a verdict.

“If you must know, I am waiting for her, but it’s not what you think.” Pausing, I scanned the horizon. “I’m just worried about her. I don’t think she’s from around here,” I said, trying to sound reasonable.

“Dude, have you already forgotten about Kayley? It was a disaster, man.” He shook his head slowly. “I can’t watch you go through that again. I thought we agreed you’d never date a vacationer again.”

“Give me some credit, Wes. Kayley happened years ago. I promise, I’m wiser now. Like I said, I only want to see her safe and then I can put her out of my mind.”

Weston grunted. He clearly didn’t believe me. But I had no intentions of getting involved with this girl. I needed someone stable, trustworthy, and local. Not a kayaking traveler. I focused on my food again, trying to drum up the motivation to eat the oily mess.

“Well, you got your wish. There’s your girl,” Weston said flatly.

My heart rate spiked at his words, but I forced myself to face him as I spoke. “She’s not my girl,” I said, keeping my voice firm and calm.

I turned towards the ocean and my gaze settled on my girl stretching next to her kayak. The relief that flooded my system was almost comical. But I didn’t want Weston to get on my case again, so I played it cool. I focused on closing my lunch container instead.

“Great. Now that she is safe, I can forget about her. Thanks for caring, but I promise I’m good.”

I stood, gave Weston a hand up, and turned to leave, but he stopped me.

“Come for a swim with me. It’ll get your head off her. I need to train for my race this Saturday, anyway. I’m just going to put my phone in my car.”

“Nah, I think I’ll head home. But thanks for the invite.”

“Sorry dude, but you need the swim more than I do. You’re asking for trouble. I know you. You’re going to talk to her again. I might be wrong, but I’m willing to bet money she won’t be in town long. The last thing you need is to get mixed up with another tourist. Come on, man, help me help you.”

It annoyed me that Weston was right. I still hadn’t forgiven myself for being such an idiot with the Kayley saga, and it bugged me that he was picking at an old scab. But he was right, so I swallowed my pride and said, “Fine. Whatever. I’ll go for a swim.”

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