Ex-Daredevil by Zoe Lee

Author:Zoe Lee [Lee, Zoe]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Foolish Endeavors
Published: 2020-12-03T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 23

Gavin

“Congratulations,” I said sourly, pushing my sunglasses up my nose yet again because it was slippery from sunscreen I’d applied a couple hours ago. “This is an inspired choice.”

Eliott cackled as he cast his fishing line into the water again. He adjusted his feet, his sneakers making that sand-scraping-wood noise subtly as he did so. “Mmhm, I thought so.”

“You could have at least worn one of those dorky khaki fishing hats,” I muttered.

I half-heartedly cranked the reel to pull the line and lure back in, bored out of my mind after an hour of this. I didn’t want to catch a fish, the canoe was just drifting, and there weren’t other people around to look at while we fished. The only good thing was the way Eliott’s biceps flexed under his tight fleece jacket every time that he cast the lure.

Well, and seeing how happy he was—and not only because it was driving me crazy.

If I’d thought he was relaxed in this three-piece suit at the law firm, looking like a cool million dollars, typing on his neon blue lit keys with those elegant, skillful hands…

It was nothing compared to how relaxed he was right now. He wore cargo pants—which I would have thought he deemed a crime against fashion—and a faded Michigan Law tee shirt under the fleece. Plus he had a Cubs hat on backwards and aviators. The Cubs hat pained me—the crosstown rivalry was no joke in Chicago, and I was a third generation die-hard White Sox fan. But given the knowing way he caressed the brim while adjusting it, I knew he was wearing it mostly to add insult to injury on this Boring Date.

He smelled like sunscreen and bug spray instead of cologne, his opaque eyes were hidden by his aviators, and he was wearing clothes that were ratty, for him. He looked like a laid-back, frat boy clone of himself, or an evil twin maybe, and I almost hated it. But his body was liquid and loose, sipping beer and taking neat bites of a sundried tomato wrap with turkey and avocado. There had been pleasant surprise on his lips when I huffed that I already knew how to fucking’ fish, thanks, it just made me want to knock myself out.

“We can’t keep these fish, even if we catch a bunch,” I complained. “What’s the point?”

“How about because I enjoy it?”

My mouth gaped like a fish, damn it.

“And it’s not torture, is it? Sitting in a canoe with me, with beer and wraps?”

“There’s a really long distance between boredom and torture!” I argued, putting my pole down kind of clumsily since there wasn’t a cup holder for it or something like that.

Eliott put his pole aside too, only gracefully, and turned towards me, elbows braced on his knees. I assumed he was surveying me critically from behind his reflective sunglasses, because after a minute, he lifted his eyebrows in silent judgement. “Let’s say you have a few unexpected hours on a Saturday afternoon, after a hard work week.

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