I nod, turning for the truck. In the back, I find both of our backpacks on the floor. There’s a plastic bin on the seat. “Do you need this tote?” I call.
“Yes. That’s lunch.”
Nodding, I slide it toward me. With both of our backpacks slung over my shoulder, I grab the tote and nudge the door shut with my hip.
Peyton has the kayak on the ground and is loading different things under the bungee cords. “Set the tote in the middle and grab one of the rubber bags for your backpack.”
I do as I’m told. Peyton joins me and secures his backpack in a rubber bag as well. Then we have them tied down.
“I have an extra set of water shoes, or you can brave your sneakers,” he says.
I look at my feet. “I think I’ll brave my sneakers. We don’t plan to roll the kayak, right?”
He laughs. There’s something about it that every time I hear his laughter, my chest flutters with excitement. “No. Not on purpose, anyway. But that’s why we have life vests.” He tosses one at me and I catch it.
We put our vests on and continue to waterproof everything else. Our phones, his truck keys, and another bag.
“All right. Ready. Grab that end. Time to get in the water.”
I pick up the end of the kayak and follow him toward the water a few dozen feet away. It looks like we’re the only ones here, which I’m not sad about at all. I’m not sure if this is a romantic date or not. I’m not sure this is even a real date.
Either way, I’m glad we’re alone.
We set the kayak at the edge of the water, the front half in. “Get in,” he says. “I’ll bring us into the water before getting in, so your sneakers stay dry.”
It’s awkward getting into the kayak. It tips easily and rocks wildly.
Peyton laughs. “You’re going to have to use your core muscles, hot stuff. You need to stay balanced. Kind of like riding a bike. And don’t overcompensate or you’ll send us into the water.”
“I think maybe I should have done some research on how to kayak,” I say, feeling incredibly self-conscious right now.
He chuckles again as he pushes the kayak out. It wiggles a lot, which I realize is in response to how my muscles shake when he puts his hand on my shoulder.
“Relax, Dana. The more you concentrate on it, the more difficult it’s going to feel. You need to be fluid and move with the water. You can’t control the water, so you need to be flexible and move with it.”
Right. That sounds like a bunch of mystical shit.
Peyton is still chuckling when he climbs into the kayak with me. Suddenly, I feel like we’re going to tip over—and I’m going to be the one tipping us.
“Calm down, hot stuff,” Peyton says. “Here. Take the paddle. Just relax and look around, and I’ll row us around for a bit until you stop focusing so much on tipping over. You can swim, right?”
I nod. “Thank fuck for that,” I mutter.
He laughs, and honestly, if he keeps laughing, I’ll probably calm down quicker. I love his laughter. I love that I’m actually here with him. In the middle of nature, the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen. With the most handsome man I’ve ever met.
“Funny that you chose a kayaking date when you’re so worried about getting wet,” Peyton muses.
He hasn’t figured it out yet. I don’t give a shit about the date. It’s about the man that I’d be on the date with. This seems like a bad place for that confession. I don’t want it to be awkward on the kayak. That’ll just make me more nervous.
“College is about firsts, right? Might as well have my kayaking first.”
Peyton snorts. “Right.”
Minutes pass, and I try to keep my attention on the trees and water surrounding us. Peyton points with the paddle he’s using to move us. “See that island in the distance? It looks tiny from here, but you see it?”
“I think everything looks like a foreign shore,” I tell him.
He laughs. “Okay, well, trust me when I tell you there is one out there. It’s small. Less than a square mile. But I thought it’d be fun to have a picnic out there.”
