“You’ll find out soon enough.”
“Ugh, you suck.”
Tuesday night when I asked Xander to come to the bonfire with me, he eagerly agreed. His only caveat? We meet up before the party. Much to my frustration, he wouldn’t tell me why. All he said was that he had a surprise for me, and despite my endless pestering, he remained tight-lipped. I hadn’t even managed to pry a hint from him. The anticipation had been driving me up the wall ever since. When he’d texted me an address this morning, the first thing I’d done was look it up on Google Maps, only to discover our rendezvous point was a McDonald’s. And I highly doubted my surprise was a Happy Meal dinner date. Xander probably chose this meeting spot to throw me off whatever his surprise was.
Where in the world were we going?
I received my answer five minutes later. After walking a few blocks, we crossed the street to where a building that looked like a luxury log cabin loomed over us. The architecture felt out of place in southern California until I read the sign on the wall and everything finally made sense: STONECREEKARCHERYRANGE.
Xander stopped underneath the entrance overhang, which was held up by two massive river rock pillars, and cleared his throat. “The other night, you mentioned you were interested in learning archery,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I leave Monday morning, so I figured today was my only opportunity to squeeze in a lesson. You game?”
“Absolutely,” I replied, mainly because Xander looked unsure of himself, like he was suddenly second-guessing his decision to bring me here. What he didn’t know was that my insides had instantly twisted up at his question. I was willing to bet that archery wasn’t my sport, and the last thing I wanted to do was make a fool of myself in front of him, but I couldn’t tell him no. Not when I remembered how nervous I’d been to ask him to the party. What if he was feeling the exact same way?
“Cool.” Xander’s relief was evident in his smile. “Follow me.”
The inside of the archery range looked like a sporting goods store, but Xander blew by the rows of equipment and led me to a back counter where a lady in her midforties was reading a paperback. She glanced up at the sound of our approach.
“Hey, Carol,” Xander called.
She squinted at him—he probably looked unfamiliar in a wig and without his glasses—before breaking out into a grin. “Xander,it’s so good to see you,” she exclaimed, marking her page and closing the book. “It’s been ages since you’ve stopped in. I was starting to think you’d forgotten about me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he told her. “I could never forget about you.”
“Oh, stop.” She waved him off. “You’re always such a sweetheart. You here to get some practice time in before your next big tour?”
“Actually, I’m teaching today. Carol, this is Indie. Indie, Carol. She’s the owner of Stone Creek. I’ve been a member here ever since I moved to LA.”
“Teaching, huh?” She turned to me and put her hands on her hips. “So, Indie, have you ever shot a bow before?”
I shook my head. “No, never.”
“Then you’re in for a treat.”
Carol wasted no time getting started. First, she had me do an eye dominance test to see which one I naturally aimed with, because apparently that determined whether I needed a right-handed or left-handed bow. Next, she tested my draw length, a number she used to figure out my bow size. Finally, she measured my arrow size before giving me arm guards and a finger tab to protect my skin from the bowstring.
After Xander paid for my rental equipment, Carol allowed us through the door next to the counter, which led to an indoor range. Black lines painted on the floor created ten shooting lanes, each one ending in a target. The space reminded me a bit of a bowling alley but without ball returns and the sound of crashing pins. Xander set his case down on the table near the closest lane and motioned for me to do the same.
“So where do we start?” I asked, bouncing on my toes. Despite my earlier hesitation, I was itching to draw the string back and let an arrow fly. Something about holding the bow made me feel badass. I doubted I’d even hit the target, but I was no longer afraid of embarrassing myself. Had I been teaching Xander how to play violin, I’d never think less of him for not being perfect at the onset. I was confident he wouldn’t judge me either.
“Well,” Xander said and scratched his head. “I’ve never actually taught anyone before, so I’m not sure.”
“Maybe with a demonstration?”
“Good idea.” Xander unlocked the plastic case on the table and lifted the cover, revealing his bow. He unlatched the straps holding it in place and gently picked it up. I watched as he inspected the weapon and explained that before shooting, he always checked to make sure the string and screws were tight and that there weren’t any cracks or splinters in the limbs and risers. Then he moved over to the black line that indicated the start of the lane.
“The first thing you need to think about when it comes to proper shooting technique is your stance,” he said, getting into position. “You want to stand with your feet roughly shoulder distance apart. Your hips should be pointed at the target, and your shoulders should be straight over the center of your body, like so. You also want to make sure you’re not leaning too far forward or backward.”
Xander went on to illustrate hand placement, how to hold the bow, and coming to full draw, but his explanation was lost on me, unfamiliar terms filtering in one ear and out the other. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to listen, but I was too distracted by the way hisbody moved in confident, effortless motions. Clearly, something was wrong with me. How was it possible that someone dressed as an elf looked so hot?
A loud thump startled me from my daydream. Xander had finally released an arrow, and at the other end of the room, it was buried in the center of the target.
“Did all that make sense?” he asked with a hopeful expression.
I shook my head slightly to clear the daze. “Ah…I think so?”
“Okay, time for you to try, but just with the bow for now. I want to make sure you have the technique down before you start shooting.”
With a nod, I picked up my rental and joined him at the line. I tried to copy the stance he’d demonstrated for me, putting my left foot forward and making sure my shoulders were aligned with the rest of my body. “Like this?” I asked.
