Page 15 of Aim for Love

“You didn’t really want to go up that rock, did you,” he says quietly, handing me another wipe when I need it for my knees.

Blinking to try to get rid of the moisture in my eyes, I avoid his eyes. “I guess not.”

“Why didn’t you walk it?”

“Nobody else did.”

“Hm.”

We’re silent for a few moments while I finish cleaning the blood off my wounds. Even though he’s quiet, I don’t think he’s judging me. He kind of acts like he’s beating himself up.

“I’m sorry I didn’t speak up,” I say finally. “I guess the worst accidents probably happen when people aren’t ready for something.”

He nods slowly, wrapping gauze around my knee. “Yeah, but that’s what we’re supposed to be here for. Preparing you for the next thing we ask of you. We’re not supposed to put you in a situation you’re not ready for.”

“It’s not your fault,” I say immediately. It isn’t. Everyone else did fine with that feature. Only I couldn’t wrap my head around it, much less my body. “I’m just slow.”

“You’re not slow,” he snaps. He glances up at me and smiles that small, sad smile again. “Maybe you’d benefit from more one-on-one instruction next time. I don’t want you going into it feeling unsupported.” He shrugs. “There’s this book I like about different learning styles. Everyone’s brain works differently and some people need to hear something several times. Other people need to read about it before they can repeat it. We need to figure out what works for you. We can do that.”

“You think so?” I look over at my bike, laying on the ground nearby. Getting back on it is daunting, but Hunter has given me hope. Maybe something will eventually click and I’ll actually enjoy this. As if it’s a test I’m taking, maybe there’s an answer.

“Definitely,” he says confidently. The memory of hitting that bullseye, after his ax throwing lesson, makes me want to believe him.

Still, I...“Maybe we should start with something that won’t leave me bleeding when I fail?”

“This is not afail,” Hunter says calmly, as he packs up the first aid supplies. “You fell down. That’s part of the process. You took a step toward experience.”

A step toward experience.I like the phrase, but my sore hands and knees don’t appreciate it.

“I’m not going to let you avoid getting back on the bike,” Hunter goes on. “We can definitely practice on something else to build up your confidence. I’ll give you some one-on-one lessons if it will help.”

“That would definitely help,” I blurt. There I go again—brain and body disconnection. Or maybe it’s a brain and heart disconnection, in this case. I want to spend more time withHunter. The act of being around him makes me more confident. “I mean. You’re a good teacher.”

He smiles, and instead of standing up, he sits down on the ground beside me. “We can try axe throwing,” he suggests. “It’s nothing like riding a bike, but it’s something you could get good at if you practice.”

I’m not so sure about that. There are times when, no matter how much advice I hear about a topic, I still can’t quite repeat the actions that would lead to success. I have this problem dating, too. My mom is always telling me that repeating something over and over while expecting a different outcome is the definition of insanity. She’s usually referring to using Tinder.

“What if we start with something that doesn’t involve sharp edges?” I suggest, timidly. “Like…skipping a rock!”

He laughs, putting a knee in the dirt beside me. “You want to learn how to skip a rock?”

“It’s something I’ve never done before,” I defend myself. “I tried the other day at the lake and my rock sank right away.”

“OK,” Hunter nods. “I can show you that. And we can paddleboard again. I guess the drawback of this adventure tour is we only give you shallow experiences. You don’t have a chance to become an expert at anything.” He pauses, like he’s considering this.

The way his forehead wrinkles when he’s thinking is so sweet. I watch a bead of sweat trace down his exposed chest and think about how he’d taste salty. Hunter is a sensuous experience. Being around him is like what I imagine the best camping trip would be: full of adventurous days and soothing nights. Like looking up at the stars in an endless night sky or standing perfectly balanced on the edge of a rock ledge.

I want to touch him. The way he touched me, so gently, winding the gauze around my knees and hands, made me wonder how he’d touch me without an injury as an excuse.Would he throw me around, using those muscles I can see in his arms and thighs? No. Hunter would be as gentle as he is when he’s teaching me something. He would ask me questions and guide me to…well, to wherever we are going in this hypothetical fantasy.

And I wouldn’t be scared, either. Not in the world I’m inventing in my head. Because Hunter would be there to give me one-on-one training and speak to me in the calm, confident voice he uses every time he teaches me something. I wonder if he uses that voice in bed, too?

“Maybe we should strip out some of the options so we can do activities more than once.” Hunter is still musing out loud about the tour trips. It’s clear he takes his job seriously.

It’s hard not to chuckle.

“What?” he asks, already smiling back at me.

“I was just thinking about you kissing me and you’re preoccupied with your work.”Oh shit! Yes, I said that.Mind-body disconnectagain.

---