Just Breathe by Janette Paul Page A

you like the social pages?’
    ‘No, thanks. Not really my thing. I’ve got the sport. Do you want it?’
    ‘Maybe later. I’m still reading the travel section.’
    Travel? That was Dee’s favourite. They looked quizzically at each other, then went back to the paper. Ten minutes later, Ethan folded his over and slapped it on the table. ‘So, Dee, do you know how to sail?’
    She looked up, a limp, please-don’t-ask-me smile on her face. ‘No.’
    ‘Then it’s time you learned.’

    Dee watched him with horror. ‘That’s not a boat. It’s a bathtub.’
    She was standing on a small pier below the Roxburghs’ holiday house in someone else’s wetsuit, a fluoro-yellow life jacket and with a large glob of anxiety in her belly. She was pretty sure this wasn’t a step along Security Road and it had absolutely nothing to do with being assertive. Ethan had blackmailed her into it. Told her that since he’d saved her from Glen, cooked her brunch and cleaned up the coffee, it was her turn to help out.’
    ‘You won’t have to do anything. I just need you for ballast.’
    That didn’t sound too bad. It wasn’t that she was scared of sitting on a scrap of fibreglass on a big, deep lake – it was the thought she might fall off. There were fish in there – big fish, sharks probably. Or the teeny-tiny boat might flip over, trap her underneath and she’d drown. It just wasn’t safe.
    Ethan reached out a hand to her. He was standing in the water, holding the boat against the dock, seaweed swirling around his legs. ‘Come on. You’ll be fine.’
    Dee stepped in, felt it rock back and forth and glanced doubtfully at him. Up close in the sun, his eyes were the colour of rich, dark espresso with little flecks of honeycomb dancing on the surface. Under his sleeveless wetsuit, his shoulders were broad and tanned. There was no collar, no tie, just cool assurance. He hoisted himself aboard and began guiding the boat out to the green depths of the lake.
    ‘What’s the worst that could happen?’ he asked.
    ‘We could capsize .’ Wasn’t it obvious?
    ‘If that’s what you’re worried about, let’s do it.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Just to show you it’s not as scary as you think.’ He stood up. The boat pitched precariously.
    ‘No! Wait!’ Dee yelled. ‘Isn’t that dangerous? What if we get trapped under the sail?’
    ‘If you come up under the sheet, take a deep breath and swim out. Easy. The good thing about the lake is that the shore is never very far away. If anything happens, you can always swim back.’ As he was talking, he slowly tipped the boat to one side. ‘Time to jump, Dee.’
    ‘No!’ Half-falling, half-launching, she splashed into the lake, thrashing around, kicking wildly to fend off sharks. She came up under the sail, took a deep breath and swam underwater. When she surfaced again, she was alone. Just her, the upturned vessel and a lot of water. ‘Ethan?’ she called. ‘Ethan!’
    His voice from the other side sounded thin and hollow. ‘Swim around.’
    With quick strokes, she rounded the boat, relieved to find him treading water in the shadow of the hull. She wanted to paddle right up to him, hug him for not drowning.
    ‘We have to pull it up,’ he said. ‘Hang on to the side and we’ll use our weight to right it.’
    As she reached up to grip the side, something slid past her leg – something slimy and slow. She gasped, threw herself back, stared into the depths of the lake. It was murky down there; she couldn’t even see the rubber shoes that Ethan had made her wear. There it was again – slimy and slow and very fish-like. She snapped her legs back, keeping them high, hoping whatever was prowling about was dumb enough not to look up.
    ‘This is nice.’ Ethan’s voice was so close she could feel his breath on her ear. ‘But it might be easier if we both try to pull the boat up.’
    ‘Huh?’ Dee turned, saw his face just inches from hers, which was a lot further away than the rest