I wait for it to lunge at us, to open its mouth back up, to strike, but it does just as I’d hoped. It darts away, traveling across the brown, murky water the way it came, going farther and farther into the distance.
Nikhil’s knuckles are white, his hands clasping the seat beneath him. His eyes are open, but they’re glazed over. Slightly vacant. Staring out in the direction the snake left.
“It’s gone,” I say. A shaky, jittery sensation travels through mychest. And a strange laugh bubbles out of my mouth. “It’s finally gone.”
Nikhil’s shoulders jolt at the sound of my laughter, though his hands remain tightly clenched.
I have the strange urge to place my hands on top of his, so I do. Setting my paddle across my lap, I turn and slowly unpeel his fingers from the bench, entangling them with my own.
“We’re okay, Nikhil,” I say, squeezing his hands in mine. “It’s gone now. We’re okay.”
He lets out a loud breath. He’s quiet for a moment, then looks up at me. “I hate snakes,” he says.
“I know.” Or at least I know thatnow. He’d never mentioned it to me before.
Shame creeps into his eyes, and it triggers some long-dormant instinct inside me. Something defensive. Or maybe protective.
“But everyone’s scared of something,” I say. “And snakes are a normal fear. I’m scared of them. A lot of people are scared of them. It’s a…a…dashing kind of fear.”
“Dashing?” he repeats skeptically.
“Yeah, you know. Heroic. Like Indiana Jones.Snakes, why did it have to be snakes?” I put on my best Harrison Ford impression, which really is me just dropping my pitch a bit lower.
Nikhil’s forehead shines with sweat, and his cheeks have an unhealthy pallor, but slowly, one corner of his mouth rises. “Like Indiana Jones?”
“Yeah, absolutely. What would Indy be without his fear of snakes? Just this perfect adventurer-slash-professor, and who would want to watch that?”
His smile grows. “Well, he’s not that perfect. Wasn’t he basically stealing artifacts from the global south and putting them in Western museums?”
“Uhh…huh.” He’s absolutely right. “Yeah. Good point.” I shake my head. “Okay, so not like Indiana Jones, like someone better.”
“You think I’m better than Indiana Jones?” he asks, a sly, teasing note in his voice, his thumb gliding across the back of my hand.
My mind unhelpfully recalls other times he used that voice. Other questions he asked me in that tone.
I scoff, choosing evasion instead of a proper response to his question. Because, yeah, the truth is I think Nikhil’s hotter than Harrison Ford, even when he was at his Indiana Jones prime, but I’m not going to tell Nikhil that.
“So,” I say, nodding toward Alan’s house. “You ready to get going?”
He drops my hands, and I tell myself that doesn’t sting. That I don’t feel the loss of it. That I don’t miss that brief shared connection.
“Yeah,” he says. “I can take us the rest of the way there. Really, it’s the least I can do after you saved us from certain death.”
I snort. “Nah. I’m good. I can do it.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. Honestly, I’ve got some excess energy in me after that deadly encounter. I need to burn it up somehow.”
His brows furrow. For a second, I think he’s going to argue with me, but then he clears his throat. “Okay. Ready, then?”
I confirm, facing forward again, but Nikhil doesn’t start up our count. I turn to check and see he hasn’t picked up his paddle. He hasn’t moved at all.
“Thank you,” he finally says after a few more seconds of silence. “You did…I couldn’t.” He shakes his head, and I can’t make out his expression. I can’t understand what hemeans. “Thank you,” he says again, and before I can tell him there’s nothing he needs to thank me for, he resumes his count.
One, two, three. One, two, three.
The paddling’s much easier this time. Neither of us is fighting for control, or trying to put in more power than the other, or take on the other’s job. It’s still an adjustment at first, getting back into rhythm, but soon we find it. Soon, we’re in sync.
