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“No,” she said, making me turn to find her standing there in her usual black skirt and combat boots. She had a cut-off black tank on, and I could see the straps of her bikini peeking out. “I was here. Just debating if I was just going to leave, or come over here and accuse you of trying to make meexerciseat seven in the morning.”
“Baby, I only brought one paddle,” I said, reaching for it to show her. “This was more of a ‘curious to see if she will agree to kayak through alligator-infested waters at seven in the morning’ thing,” I admitted.
“In that case…” she said, moving past me and toward the kayak.
I pushed it into the shallow water, then waited for her to get closer.
“You’re in front,” I told her, then watched as she pretty effortlessly climbed in. “Done this before?” I asked, curious because she didn’t strike me as the water hobby type.
“I grew up in Florida. I’ve done all the water things,” she explained. “I’ve enjoyed almost none of them. So congrats on your choice of activities for the day,” she said, shooting me a smirk over her shoulder as I started to paddle us into the river.
“There’s a life vest on the floor in front of you if you want it.” She didn’t reach for it.
“Alright, fine,” she grumbled after we moved along the water slowly and silently for ten minutes. “It’s pretty out here,” she admitted.
It was.
Sure, therewerealligators. And there was a risk because of them. But not a super serious one. I’d chosen this more because it was fucking beautiful around these parts with the trees shading the water, and the overgrown grasses lining the banks.
It was empty this time of day too. And, you know, because we weren’t actually allowed to kayak here. There were special tours for that kind of thing. This was not that. But there was no one out here to bitch at us about it anyway.
We had it all to ourselves.
I figured it would be a good test for if we clicked or not. I guess I just hadn’t anticipated how bad we both were at this. How inexperienced we both seemed to be at dating.
That was what this was, too.
I couldn’t even try to deny it.
This was a date.
I’d set up an activity.
I’d even packed a lunch.
Eddie had prepared it, giving me raised brows but encouraging words as he did so. “Sometimes you gotta wine and dine the right honey, man,” he said, nodding. “They appreciate effort.”
Aside from a few awful and awkward attempts in high school, I’d never been on an actual date before. Sure, I met women. And we may have even occasionally shared a drink or a meal, but it was never planned. I didn’t set it up. And we both went into it knowing it wasn’t going anywhere serious.
This, though?
I don’t know.
I had a feeling that there was something here. Something more than mind-numbingly good sex. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be doing this.
“Did you grow up in Miami?” I asked, knowing that one of us had to get the conversation started.
“Born and raised,” she agreed, nodding. “You?”
“Yeah. Know that neighborhood I drove us to that first night?”
“I do. I got hit on ten times when I was walking to my ride,” she admitted.
“Don’t doubt that,” I said. “I grew up there. Me and two of my now club brothers. Used to scout for the local gangs as kids. Which is why I can still drive through there doing a high-speed chase without issue.”
“The gangs just… let you become a biker?” she asked, dubious.
“We were never officially initiated. It was just kid work we did. Bunch of the kids in the neighborhood scouted or ran errands for money but never actually joined the gangs.”
