CPR like nobodies business...but they couldn’t get me in the pool.” He grimaced, his eyes squeezing closed.
I shrugged, unsure what else to do. “It’s not that unusual a phobia. There are a lot of people afraid of water.” Just like there are a lot of folks scared of dogs . Seeing his ticks escalating before my eyes, I gripped his hand before he could think about it, and leapt the creek, dragging him behind me.
Zane landed with the heel of one foot in the water. He shrieked, and launched himself against me, trying to scale me as if he was a bear trying to climb a tree.
Cinching my arms around him, I tried to calm him down. “Hey, you’re safe. Solid ground, Zane.” I stomped a foot. Thud , thud , thud .
He was trembling while his throat worked continuously, the sound he emitted much like glugging a bottle of water. His reaction seemed more trauma-driven than that of a phobia. However I wasn’t a therapist, and really knew nothing about this sort of thing.
Suddenly he calmed, inhaled, and shoved me away. “You could have warned me! What type of person does that?” His voice cracked on the last word as his hands sought solace in his hair.
“Zane...” I threw my hands up. “Okay, yes, I could have warned you. But you probably would have tensed up, maybe even stopped at the last second, and I would have ended up yanked off my feet. It’s possible we never would have even made it across.” I folded my arms over my chest, feeling defiant, and a little hurt over his accusation. A realization hit me, and I cocked my head. “You seem to know where you’re going, so how the heck have you made it across before?”
He waved a hand, gesturing down the creek.
“The railroad bridge?” I asked incredulously. It was a half-mile away, and sported an open deck that looked way down onto the river Cranes Creek dumped into. I would have thought that a much scarier option than a three-foot-wide, eight-inch-deep section of slow moving water.
Zane nodded, digging his toe into the damp ochre soil as he toyed with his tongue stud. “I found this crossing last week, and it’s much closer, and I thought I might be able to cross if you were with me. So I brought us this way.” He shook his head once. “I should have told you...Anyway, I’m sorry,” he held his hands out triumphantly, “and we are on the other side,” he said as if everything were forgiven.
I stood, arms still crossed, staring at him for a moment, trying to decide if I could deal with everything that was Zane. It wasn’t as if I was marrying him or anything. Heck, I didn’t even know for certain if I liked guys that way. So I’d had some fantasies, a few minor reactions, one or two or a hundred wet dreams—it didn’t mean I was gay. I shifted uncomfortably as I felt my face warm.
Then I caught the apprehension in his eyes, the slow repetitive cringe along his temples, the barely there flick of his fingers. He was nervous—upset about my reaction.
I let my arms fall to my sides while my hazel eyes narrowed with intrigue. “You have a crush on me, don’t you?” And even though I was having an impossible time admitting it, I think I’d had one on him since he was stung that first day. Heck, I’d smelled him for God’s sake.
He grinned, though the apprehension remained. “God, are we still in junior high? Do I like you? Yeah, even though you’re extremely high maintenance for a cowboy.”
I gawked mockingly at him, even though my body became as light and fluttery as a gnat over his declaration. “Who are you calling high maintenance? And just how many cowboys have you snared to make you such an expert?”
“Let me think...” His brow furrowed in concentration, his lips moving silently as he counted them down on his fingers. “Eight?” He glanced up as if God would help him recall his debauchery. “No...Nine.”
My lower jaw would have fallen to the ground if not attached. He couldn’t be serious. He looked serious.
Then he
I shrugged, unsure what else to do. “It’s not that unusual a phobia. There are a lot of people afraid of water.” Just like there are a lot of folks scared of dogs . Seeing his ticks escalating before my eyes, I gripped his hand before he could think about it, and leapt the creek, dragging him behind me.
Zane landed with the heel of one foot in the water. He shrieked, and launched himself against me, trying to scale me as if he was a bear trying to climb a tree.
Cinching my arms around him, I tried to calm him down. “Hey, you’re safe. Solid ground, Zane.” I stomped a foot. Thud , thud , thud .
He was trembling while his throat worked continuously, the sound he emitted much like glugging a bottle of water. His reaction seemed more trauma-driven than that of a phobia. However I wasn’t a therapist, and really knew nothing about this sort of thing.
Suddenly he calmed, inhaled, and shoved me away. “You could have warned me! What type of person does that?” His voice cracked on the last word as his hands sought solace in his hair.
“Zane...” I threw my hands up. “Okay, yes, I could have warned you. But you probably would have tensed up, maybe even stopped at the last second, and I would have ended up yanked off my feet. It’s possible we never would have even made it across.” I folded my arms over my chest, feeling defiant, and a little hurt over his accusation. A realization hit me, and I cocked my head. “You seem to know where you’re going, so how the heck have you made it across before?”
He waved a hand, gesturing down the creek.
“The railroad bridge?” I asked incredulously. It was a half-mile away, and sported an open deck that looked way down onto the river Cranes Creek dumped into. I would have thought that a much scarier option than a three-foot-wide, eight-inch-deep section of slow moving water.
Zane nodded, digging his toe into the damp ochre soil as he toyed with his tongue stud. “I found this crossing last week, and it’s much closer, and I thought I might be able to cross if you were with me. So I brought us this way.” He shook his head once. “I should have told you...Anyway, I’m sorry,” he held his hands out triumphantly, “and we are on the other side,” he said as if everything were forgiven.
I stood, arms still crossed, staring at him for a moment, trying to decide if I could deal with everything that was Zane. It wasn’t as if I was marrying him or anything. Heck, I didn’t even know for certain if I liked guys that way. So I’d had some fantasies, a few minor reactions, one or two or a hundred wet dreams—it didn’t mean I was gay. I shifted uncomfortably as I felt my face warm.
Then I caught the apprehension in his eyes, the slow repetitive cringe along his temples, the barely there flick of his fingers. He was nervous—upset about my reaction.
I let my arms fall to my sides while my hazel eyes narrowed with intrigue. “You have a crush on me, don’t you?” And even though I was having an impossible time admitting it, I think I’d had one on him since he was stung that first day. Heck, I’d smelled him for God’s sake.
He grinned, though the apprehension remained. “God, are we still in junior high? Do I like you? Yeah, even though you’re extremely high maintenance for a cowboy.”
I gawked mockingly at him, even though my body became as light and fluttery as a gnat over his declaration. “Who are you calling high maintenance? And just how many cowboys have you snared to make you such an expert?”
“Let me think...” His brow furrowed in concentration, his lips moving silently as he counted them down on his fingers. “Eight?” He glanced up as if God would help him recall his debauchery. “No...Nine.”
My lower jaw would have fallen to the ground if not attached. He couldn’t be serious. He looked serious.
Then he
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