Page 8 of Aim for Love

“These tour guides know more about the outdoors than anything else,” one of them says, like I’m not standing right there.

Mollie meets my eyes. “I guess I should be listening to them, then,” she says, a mild rebuke the others ignore.

My first instinct is to save her, but I’m projecting. Iwanther to need my protection. Maybe she likes the attention. I raise my eyebrows at her and she smiles back, so I step away.

I get this a lot from tourists. They trust me to keep them safe on the trails, and still assume I can’t read or write or do arithmetic. I have a college degree. Sure, it’s an associate that I got in two years commuting to Montrose—long days of sitting in the car, one of my least favorite things. That’s not nothing. In reality, I could have done something else, but if it involves sitting in an office for eight hours at a time, no thanks.

I’d rather put up with a few ignorant assholes who think I’m limited to being “trail smart” and nothing more.

four

MOLLIE

I’m goingto get so wet.

Staring at Hunter, who is shirtless and balancing with loose limbs on his paddleboard in front of me, I ignore the teasing whispers of my friends. They’re still stuck on the possibility I could have a “vacation fling” with him and his current appearance is not stemming the tide.

What I’m more worried about is my complete lack of balance.

I’m kneeling on my paddleboard while everyone around me stands. The three guys I met this morning are even waving their paddles at each other in a mock sword fight.

Even in this position, I’m wobbling. I’m the person who can’t hold tree pose for more than a second in yoga. It doesn’t matter how hard I stare at a spot on the wall or “soften my gaze” or whatever instructors have told me to try; the truth is, I’m an unbalanced person and always will be.

This water doesn’t look too bad.I can’t see the bottom of the lake we’re on, but I can see at least a foot under the surface. There’s nothing scary in here. It’ll be fine when I fall over.

“Try standing,” one of the instructors—not Hunter—encourages me. “You can get a lot more power in your stroke if you stand.”

“Try it for a minute,” Nora urges. She and Sophie are standing on their boards nearby, looking lithe and sporty in their swimsuits. Their life vests don’t even look that bulky on them. I’m wearing shorts and a sunshirt because I don’t want to a) get sunburnt, or b) flash my ass at everyone here while I flail around on this board. Itoldthem I hate trying new things. It’s because I’m so bad at everything at first.

It’s clear that they’re not going to let me get away with not even trying. Still, I wait until some of the other people in the group have sped away in all directions across the lake so fewer people see me. My legs are trembling as I carefully stand, one leg after another. I almost freeze when I have one leg in front of me, but Nora and Sophie are watching. It feels so high up here, like I’m standing on water. My brain screams,Unnatural! I hope no one can see how badly I’m shaking, half hunched over so my chest is parallel to the board.

Now I need to pick up my paddle and slowly…carefully…straighten up.

It happens then, I slip. I throw my arms out to both sides, knowing there’s nothing to catch myself on and I’m definitely going in.

“Whoa!” Someone catches my right hand and holds as steady as a rock. I don’t fall. I look over at Hunter, who is floating on his board next to me looking serious.

“Plant your feet a little wider on the board,” he tells me, his voice calm and firm. I do as he tells me. “And don’t lock your knees. That’s right.”

My butt is sticking out behind me, I’m bending my knees so much. I’m basically doing squats on this board and must look ridiculous.

“Now shuffle back on the board a few inches. You should be standing just behind the center line.”

“Are you sure?” I squeak. Despite all evidence of its stability, I’m worried about the board flying out from between my legs.

“I’m sure,” he says, still holding my hand. I shuffle back until I’m doing my squat on the back half of the board.

“There you go. This is the position you should keep while you paddle. Can you remember that?”

My thighs are burning. What are they going to torture me with next? I nod mechanically. “Got it.”

“You can kneel to paddle,” Hunter says gently. “There’s nothing wrong with it. No wrong way to get some exercise if you’re having fun. Try it.”

I cling to Hunter until I’m back on my knees on the board.

“Try sitting,” he suggests. I don’t look up at him, because the sun is behind him, but I obey his instructions. When I sit with my legs crossed, I stop shaking. I try an experimental paddle, stroking it through the water at my side. I don’t move much—and that’s OK because I like going slow. It’s safer.

“There you go!” Hunter sounds much more excited for me than this warrants. “Fun, right?”

---