Chorus
She lets me in when she lets me touch her.
Lost in her body, touching a whisper.
Watching her breathe, hearing her needs.
She’s an oasis. She’s where my place is. My whisper.
Bridge:
Find my whisper. Hear my whisper.
I shout to the world when she whispers my name.
I need to figure out the verses.
Today, I felt exhausted but refreshed in a way I haven’t for a long time.
And apparently, I’ll be feeling even more refreshed by the end of the day. Literally. I’ve never been rafting. I swim. I waterski. I kick ass on a jet ski.
She’s sending me down a series of class four rapids on the nearby Arkansas River. From my understanding, it’s an intense run. A few guys from the ranch are signed up, along with some younger women. They’re pumped.
Not just for the rafting, but they know who I am. They all want autographs. They’re excited to be on an outing with singing sensation, Colt Forrester.
I’m casual. Without thinking, I flirt with the two college girls who’ve attached themselves to me. I’m not interested. It just comes naturally.
Occasionally, from the highway, glimpses of the river come into view. I’m surprised to see so much white water.
And clueless, but open to a challenge.
As we drive to the put-in site, our guide goes over his standard safety speech again. Most of it’s practical but some stuff you wouldn’t necessarily think about.
If the raft feels like it’s gonna flip, get to the high side. Makes sense but good to know.
If you are unfortunate enough to fall in, try to swim back to the boat. If you can’t, head down the river feet first and use your feet to bounce off any rocks. He describes this as the “down-river swimming position.” And then he adds in all seriousness, “If you’re in a hole, don’t fight it. Curl into a ball and hopefully it will spit you out eventually.”
Ok-a-ay.
Some of the instructions are a little daunting. I’m the only first timer, and they joke about it.
I hope I live to have dinner with Charlie tonight. If she gets stood up by me it will be nobody’s fault but her own. I’d text her but my phone’s locked in the van.
Our equipment’s state of the art. Life vests, helmets. We’re all given paddles to assist the guide if necessary. I’m kind of getting pumped myself now. Excited.
For the second time in two days.
The sky is overcast, but it’s not raining. Rico, our guide, says it won’t matter anyhow. If we see a lot of lightning, we’ll get off the river. He doesn’t seem worried.
We put into the river at a relatively calm spot. Rico goes over the commands and everybody gets comfortable. There are six people in our boat, including myself and Rico. The two blond college girls from Stanford– I can’t remember their names– two orthopedic surgeons– Carter and Bill– and me.
I’m up front on the right side, Macy– that’s her name– climbs on behind me. Carter and Bill take the seats on the left, and the other girl sits in the middle.
Macey isn’t shy.
“I’m scared, Colt.” She coos from behind. “I’m so glad you’re up front.”
Rico rolled his eyes at me. “Pull your own, Miss Macey.” He hands her a paddle. “You picked the wrong trip if you want a pleasure cruise.”
