‘Ever skip stones?’ he asked.
I shook my head.
‘God no. I have terrible hand to eye coordination.’
‘Aren’t you a brain surgeon?’
‘Neurosurgeon,’ I corrected. ‘What’s your point?’
‘Come on, I’ll show you how.’
He held out a hand and I stared at it for a moment before taking it in mine, the warm, rough skin sending shockwaves down my arm and through my body. I flashed back to his flat, that static shock when we both reached for a receipt.
If Callum felt anything at all, he didn’t show it. Just like before.
‘You hold the stone like this then it’s all in the wrist,’ he said, leading me down to the water’s edge before letting go of my hand. He leaned slightly to the side then flicked his wrist when he released. The pebble skipped over the water, three, four, five times before sinking through the surface. ‘You want to try?’
‘Why not?’ I replied, bending down when he did, my fingers brushing the stones as we searched for the best skippers. ‘This one?’
‘Too round. You want flat and smooth.’
Not really knowing what to look for, I picked up arandom assortment while he curated a smaller selection for himself, then followed him right to the water’s edge.
‘Bend your knees a wee bit,’ he instructed, squatting slightly, his left shoulder angled towards the loch. ‘Pull your right arm back, keep it level and flick your wrist as you let go.’
He demonstrated again and I watched as the stone sailed across the water. Skip, skip, skip, sink.
‘Your turn.’
‘Show me again,’ I said, delaying the inevitable.
I hated these kinds of things, useless feats of skill designed to make men look all clever and manly while we feeble women watched on, so impressed. A week ago, I was performing a lumbar puncture and now I was about to risk my entire self-worth cobbing a stone across some water.
‘You’re going to nail it.’ Callum moved directly behind me and pressed his chest to my back, his arms curved around mine as though we were in a dance. ‘Here, let me help you.’
I didn’t protest when he rested his chin on my shoulder, the scruff of his unshaven face scratching against my neck where my hair had escaped the collar of my coat. His hand slid down my right arm to grip my wrist. Could he feel me trembling? All the sounds of the loch were lost, the rippling water, the wind in the bushes, Joel’s incessant Loch Ness monster mating call. The only thing I could hear was Callum’s breath in my ear.
‘Left arm is your counterbalance,’ he explained plainly, no reaction to me at all. ‘Hold it out from your body a wee bit.’
When I didn’t move, he covered my hand with hisand pulled it a few inches away from my side. The water, the sky, the rest of the world disappeared as I melted into him, covered, protected, by Callum McClay.
‘Are you ready?’ he asked, his words so close to my ear I felt him moisten his lips before he spoke.
‘No,’ I replied truthfully as I bent my knees, turned my body. ‘Manage your expectations accordingly.’
With my eyes on the horizon, I tossed the pebble. To my surprise, it skipped across the loch, bouncing five times before it vanished. Callum pulled away from me and threw his arms up in celebration.
‘You did it!’ he cheered. ‘I thought you said you’d never skipped stones before?’
‘I haven’t,’ I replied, shocked. It was impossible to say what stunned me more, the successful skip or the way my body yearned for his the moment he moved away.
‘Go on,’ Callum encouraged. ‘Let’s see another one.’
Fuelled by beginner’s luck, I tried again. Four skips.
‘You should be showing me how to do it,’ he grinned. ‘You’re a natural.’
Beaming at his encouragement, I stooped down to look for more stones, better, flatter, smoother, and we took turns tossing our pebbles one at a time, pausing to cheer each other on.
