Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 106646 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106646 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
I want a rogue wave to drench them both.
I glare at the water, waiting for my bait to get something's attention, and tease the line a little to mimic movement. I can't help but constantly look over at A'tam and Daisy as the minutes tick past. O'jek's out in the water up to his chest, throwing the net over and over again. I'm sure he's bringing in fish, and I guess I should be paying attention, but I watch A'tam and Daisy instead. A'tam shows her how to use a fishing rod, his arms going around her. They make their way out onto another rocky outcropping, and I clench my jaw a little as he holds her delicate hand, helping her maneuver out to a good spot. He's just being a good team mate, I tell myself. If I'd picked him as my team mate, he'd be holding my hand, maybe, and laughing with me.
And then, of course, he'd think we're back together, pull out his Godzilla dick, and try and cram it in my ‘petite’ vagina, and then I'd be right back to square one with him. And I…don't know what I want, but I know I don't want that.
I think.
Frustrated, I turn back to fishing, staring glumly at the water as I let my morose thoughts carry me away. I stare at the waves for hours, determined not to look at Daisy and A'tam and how much fun their having. Bad enough that I have to hear snatches of it whenever one of them laughs…which is often.
At some point, my line jerks, so forceful that it nearly pulls my fishing rod out of my hands. With a startled yelp, I grab my pole and cling to it as the fish on the other end makes his displeasure known and starts to fight.
O'jek swims up to my side. "Do you need help?"
I ignore him. Maybe it's the word “help” or maybe it's the dismissive way he says it, but I hear my mother's voice in my head. You can't finish anything on your own. You're just like your father. You never commit to anything. Someone always has to pick up the pieces that you scatter.
Yeah, well, I don't need O'jek's help. He's ignored me all day so far. I'm not going to humiliate myself by letting him take my catch and the credit. So I grit my teeth and lock my arm around the pole, putting the force of my weight on it as I hold on. The fish on the other end of the line is strong as hell, dragging me forward a step or two, until I get the idea that I need to lie down on my pole and use gravity to help me bring it in. After all, he'll eventually tire himself out, right? Isn't that how fishing works on the TV shows when they have a big catch?
O'jek remains close to the rock I'm on, though he doesn't do anything else. "You are not doing it right," he finally offers when my fishing rod nearly surges out of my hands again. "Let me—"
"I've got it," I snap. I have to be good at something, right? I have to be able to commit. I can't just bail out on everything when it's hard. So I grit my teeth and hold tighter, even though the rod is threatening to jump out of my grip and a rough spot on the pole is tearing at my hands.
Off to the side, O'jek just makes a noise that sounds like irritation, and I hear him swim away.
In the next moment, my rod jerks again, and before I know what's happening, I slide face-first into the water. I smack my cheek on something that wriggles—probably the fish itself—and then I'm in the water, flailing and gasping.
"B'shit!" calls a voice. "Are you all right?"
It's A'tam. I open my mouth to speak, and cough salt water instead, pushing my hair out of my face. Strong arms wrap around me and A'tam hauls me to the shore.
"Let me go," I protest, ashamed that I'm being hauled around like I'm useless. "I can walk."
"You swallowed water," he says, ignoring my request. "And it is cold. Let me get you to shore."
I feel like everyone's staring at me as he takes me onto the sand and gently deposits me there. I'm so humiliated. Back in the waves, O'jek stares at us with a frown on his face, and I know what he's thinking—he's regretting that I picked him as my partner. "Thanks," I say to A'tam, and wish it didn't sound so damn grudging. It's not his fault that I hate showing weakness.
A look of worry crosses his face as he touches my cheek. "You are bleeding."
I brush his hand away. "I think the fins scraped me. I swear I'm fine."