My back turned to him, I took off my shorts and top, slowly, giving him a first-row view of my slender body wearing a cutout one-piece in black and white, stretching my arms above my head and running my fingers through my hair. Then, pretending I wasn’t noticing the expression on his face, I went on ahead to have the WaveRunners put on the water.
While he changed, I loaded a cooler, blanket, and some towels into one of the WaveRunners with some help from the owner, and then advised him we might be late coming back. He smiled, showing off tobacco-stained crooked teeth, and grunted something I didn’t quite catch.
Winston and I got onto our WaveRunners at the dock. The engines roared to life, disturbing the serene peace of the Colorado River as they glided away smoothly, catching speed. The water was a brilliant blue, reflecting the clear sky above. I felt the wind in my hair and the spray of the river on my face, a sense of freedom and exhilaration washing over me. Why had I stopped doing this for myself? I’d had to read online that Winston liked being on the water and had a forty-foot yacht on Lake Mead somewhere torememberhow much I loved wave running.
For a while, we rode side by side, laughter and windblown shouts cutting through the roar of the engines. The initial thrill of the ride settled into an easy rhythm, stolen glances and playful splashes weaving between the rush of water beneath us. Even without words, theconnection between us deepened, carried in the exhilaration of the ride. “Race you to the next bend?” Winston called out.
“You’re on!” I laughed, pushing my WaveRunner to its limit. It went crazy fast, and my hair whipped in the wind, water spraying on my face. I squealed with joy.
We sped ahead, laughter and gleeful shouts mingling with the sound of rushing water. Winston won by a small margin, and I splashed him in mock frustration, veering my WaveRunner too close to his and squeezing the throttle. The turning jet sent a curtain of water over him.
“Just a lucky break!” I teased, pulling alongside him.
“Or maybe I’m just that good,” Winston replied with a wink, wiping water off his face and running his fingers through his wet hair.
“Yes, maybe you are,” I replied, my voice dropping slightly, each word drawn out just enough to linger between us.
We continued our ride up the Colorado, occasionally slowing down to enjoy the serene beauty of the canyon walls and the clear, cool water. The walls narrowed around us, giving me a sense of claustrophobia as it felt more and more like a maze. We reduced speed when the water level became too low, going upriver. I could see rocks at the bottom.
Eventually, we reached a quiet, secluded spot along the shore. I guided my WaveRunner to the edge and stopped. “I thought we could enjoy the scenery for a while,” I said, cutting the engine.
He pulled to the shore next to me and powered down his WaveRunner.
The sudden stillness swallowed us whole. The hum of the water jets and the roar of the engines were all gone, leaving only the quiet rush of the current and the towering canyon walls rising around us. It was breathtaking. Isolating.
And dangerous. Conflicting. Insane.
I should have felt in control. This was my game, my design, and I’d played it before, cool, clearheaded, and emotionally detached all the way to the end. But as I turned to Winston, catching the way the golden light played over his face, something shifted inside me.
I wasn’t supposed to feel this comfortable. This connected.
It was overwhelming. Exhilarating. And dangerous in a way I didn’t know how to fight.
“This looks perfect,” Winston said, helping me onto the mix of pebbles and sand that lined the tiny patch of beach nestled between tall canyon walls. It was barely large enough for us to sit down for a picnic.
I checked the rocks carefully, like the man who owned the WaveRunners had urged me to.
“What are you doing?” Winston asked.
“Um, looking for snakes,” I said, shying away from the feelings that had unsettled me. “They have rattlesnakes here, or so I’ve been told.”
He frowned slightly, but then managed to smile. “Fabulous. Do you see any scorpions, while you’re at it?” His voice was a little fraught with tension when he asked about the insects. “I hate scorpions.”
“Yeah? Why?” Splashing in ankle-deep water, I opened my WaveRunner’s front cargo compartment and took out the blanket. “I didn’t see any. Do you still want to eat out here?”
Winston grinned, his gaze flicking to mine. “Oh, is that what we’re calling it?”
The implication landed, thick and deliberate. I met his eyes, letting the moment stretch before responding with a slow, playful smile and a tilt of my head. Then, without a word, I spread out the blanket. He brought over the cooler, but the shift in energy lingered between us, charged and unspoken.
“Why do you hate scorpions?” I asked. Perhaps bringing him here hadn’t been the greatest idea.
“One of those nasties bit me as a child. It was excruciating pain. I’ll never forget it. Ugh.” He laughed, but still looked around our space with suspicion. “I keep fresh lavender everywhere. It’s a natural repellent.”
Eventually, we settled down and unpacked the cooler, which I’d filled with gourmet sandwiches, strawberries on ice, and some sodas. As we ate, the conversation flowed effortlessly, ranging from our favorite places to travel to our shared passion for renewable energy.
As the sun dipped lower in the sky, its golden light danced over the water, stretching long shadows across the shore. The air had cooled slightly, the desert heat giving way to something softer, more forgiving. We had drifted closer without thinking, the space between us narrowing as conversation gave way to an easy silence.
It was perfectly serene, being there with him. No other people around, nothing to fear. Just the two of us, watching the slow Colorado flowing at our feet.
