Riley came to pick me up on the boat. Well, me and the rest of my family. We were staying in a cabin for a week at the lake where he was working. On the dock, we had brought out all our supplies of suitcases, grocery bags, towels, river shoes and fishing poles. As we loaded them onto Riley’s boat, ready to be towed faithfully to our cabin, we were the ruckus; the tree-lined canyon and the lapping water that stretched out ahead of us were vast and calm.
There was something in the air that late afternoon. I couldn’t tell you where it was coming from. Maybe it was the sweet scent of the mountain pine trees that made Riley’s cheekbones stand out to me. Maybe it was the way he pulled up his biker sunglasses. He rested them on the crown of his blonde buzzcut to get a better look at me, it seemed. Or maybe it was the way he glanced at me, his eyes, that warm cerulean blue.
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