Page 53 of Untruly With You

After a minute of quick instructions at the water’s edge, Laine kicks off her boots and steps gingerly into the canoe, her laugh echoing softly as the boat sways beneath her. She sits on the front bench, looking back at me with a playful glint in her eyes, a dare hidden in her smile. I grin and roll up my jeans so I can push the canoe into the water, the coolness of the lake licking at my calves before I leap in behind her. The canoe cuts through the mirrored colors of the sunset, turning the lake into a canvas of pinks, purples, and deepening blues. When we get to the middle of the lake, Laine rests her oar against her lap and stares up, watching the sky darken. She looks back at me, a content smile tipping her full lips.

“This is nice,” she murmurs, her voice accompanied only by the chirping of crickets and the sound of water waving against the canoe. She looks back up at the sky, and I watch her study the stars that spot the violet backdrop, now reflecting in her eyes. I’ve never seen her so at ease.

A breeze flows between us, whipping a piece of Laine’s hair into her face. Instinctively, I reach out, tucking it behind her ear. She turns to me, her eyes searching mine, and for a moment, the seconds slow.

A crease forms between Laine’s eyebrows. I rub at it with my thumb until it fades before tracing my fingers down along the delicate line of her jaw. Laine’s skin is velvet under my touch. Her breath catches, just for a second, and her lips partslightly, as if she wants to say something but isn’t quite sure how.

“Laine,” I whisper, unsure of the right words to follow with.

She looks down, spinning her rings around her fingers restlessly.

This is it.

I lean forward, giving in to that magnetic pull, heart hammering in my chest. For months I’ve tried to keep myself away from Laine. But everything in me begs for her. I search for something in her eyes that might mirror what I’m feeling. Instead, Laine’s eyes, still on the bottom of the canoe, widen. Her mouth opens centimeter by centimeter as genuine fear flashes across her face.

Oh no. Too far.

Immediately, I pull myself back, a wave of ice flashing over my body. “I’m so sorry. I thought maybe you felt—”

“What is that?” Laine interrupts, her voice high. I follow her gaze to the back of the canoe, directly behind me, where a pile of rope sits. “I… I think I saw something move.”

I narrow my eyes at her, then at the rope, wondering if this is some kind of deflection. Then I see it. Just a hint of movement, something small, slithering out from beneath the pile of rope, moving a few inches toward Laine. Thankfully, I see its familiar dark-green body and unmistakable yellow stripes running vertically along its body. It flicks its forked tongue out, and Laine recoils.

I chuckle, trying to reassure her. “It’s just a garter snake. Completely harmless. We used to catch them all the time growing up.”

But Laine remains unconvinced. She scoots back until she’s at the edge of her seat and pulls her knees up to her chest, getting as far away from the snake as possible in thecanoe. Her face pales. “Harmless? Sutton, it’s still a snake,” she protests, her voice pitched with nervous laughter.

“It can’t hurt you.”

“It has teeth, doesn’t it?” Laine asks, frozen in place.

“Okay, okay,” I say, smiling, “I’ll grab it. Just…stay calm.”

I lean forward, inching out my hand toward the snake, trying to grab it by the back of its head like I’ve done hundreds of times before. But just as my fingers near, the snake makes a break for it. In one swift, sinuous motion, it slithers away from me—and straight toward Laine.

Laine’s eyes widen even more, and she lets out a shriek that would wake the dead. “Oh no, no, no, no!”

“It’s fine!” I try to say, but she’s not listening. She scrambles around in her seat, her eyes locked on the snake like it’s about to grow wings as the boat rocks beneath us.

I lurch forward, attempting to grab the snake again, but it slithers out of my grasp. Laine jumps onto her seat, trying to get as far from the snake as possible. The canoe rocks with the movement, and she loses her balance.

With a yelp, she pitches backward, flailing her arms in a desperate attempt to stay upright. Her hand reaches out and grabs the side of the canoe for support. My dive toward her is fruitless. She tumbles into the lake, her hand catching the canoe in a last-ditch effort to save herself. Instead, with me already halfway out of the canoe, she tips it over with her. I barely have time to register what’s happening before I’m plunging into the frigid water.

I come up sputtering, gasping for air, and immediately search for Laine. Soon, she bobs up beside me, hair plastered to her face. For a second, she just stares at me, her expression utter shock.

“Laine,” I pant, swimming toward her, “are you okay?”

And then she laughs—a belly-deep sound that bounces across the lake, pure and infectious. That continues on untilmy leg grazes against hers, and she screams again, following it up with another fit of laughter once she realizes it was just me.

“Garter snakes can’t swim anyway, right?” she asks, breathless.

“Right,” I lie, knowing fully well that the snake could be swimming right under our feet. She doesn’t need to know that.

Laine watches as I flip the canoe right-side up, her breaths still quick with adrenaline.

“You want me to help you back in?” I ask.

She says nothing. Instead, she shakes her head to the side just once. Her open-mouth smile is wide and a bit dazed. Slowly, as she stares at me, it fades.

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