Page 105 of Just One More Thing

“I’m up.”

His mouth twitches. “I think that’s my line.”

Heat flushes straight to my face and other parts. I roll my eyes and smack him lightly in the stomach. “You can be such a boy.”

We reach Tug-A-Shore where I discover the event is essentially a rope, a john boat, and a fundamental misunderstanding of my own competitive instincts.

One partner sits in the boat. The other stays on shore and pulls. The boat partner contributes nothing except emotional commentary and body weight.

Naturally, I choose boat.

I regret boat almost immediately.

In the lane beside us, Wayne stands on shore gripping his rope with the haunted expression of a man realizing too late that agreeing to substitute for “anyone who needs a partner”was a catastrophic decision.

Because seated comfortably in his boat like she’s lounging in a bubble bath is Thelma Robinson.

Thelma Robinson, who according to Jake, attempted to seduce Wayne at Dock Lights by groping his bicep with both hands and informing him she wanted to see what else he had that’d take two hands to wrap around.

She lowers her sunglasses to the tip of her nose and openly ogles him.

“Wayne,” Ryan calls from the sideline, already laughing, “how’d this happen?”

“Bethany happened,” Wayne says hollowly. “Bethany.”

The official raises his flag. “Are both teams ready?”

“I’m always ready,” Thelma purrs, adjusting her sun hat. Then she looks directly at Wayne. “You ready, sugar?”

Wayne slowly turns toward Ryan. “I’m gonna need you to stay exactly where you are. Do not leave me alone with her.”

The whistle blows.

Jake plants his feet at the water’s edge and wraps both hands around the rope. And good lord. He’s standing there pulling me toward him looking so hot he should come with a warning label.

The rope snaps taut. The boat lurches forward hard enough that I grab both sides. “I’m having regrets!” I yell.

Jake laughs and pulls harder, genuinely enjoying himself.

From the next lane, Thelma sighs dramatically. “Oh my. That’s quite a grip you’ve got, Wayne.”

Wayne makes a sound that is not a word.

“I do love the way you tug,” she continues. “This rhythm. The back and the forth, why I’m?—“

“DO NOT FINISH THAT SENTENCE,” Wayne shouts.

Ryan has fully turned away at this point, shoulders shaking.

“She’s doing it on purpose!” Wayne yells to no one. “She’s... she’s commenting on my?—“

“SHUT UP AND TUG, WANKER,” Bethany hollers from the scoring table.

Jake pulls again, steady and strong, like the distance between us is something he intends to close with his bare hands.

It’s a rope, Emory. Stop projecting onto rope.

“I’m almost there, Wayne,” Thelma calls dramatically. “Don’t stop now.”