Until We Fly (The Beautifully Broken) by Courtney Cole Page B

further tangles the line on her pole.  Annoyed, she tosses it down.   “That’s broken.”
    I can’t help but laugh as I pick it up and untangle it for her, handing it back.  “Don’t mess with that part,” I point at the line.  “Hold this button down, then release it as you cast it.  Like this.”
    I demonstrate. 
    “And you’re acting desperate.  A woman like you doesn’t need to beg someone to fuck her.”
    My tone is probably harsher than it needed to be because I can practically see her flinch.
    “I’m not desperate,” she repeats, softer this time.  “I just… I know what I want.  And I only have a limited time to get it.  That makes me driven, not desperate.”
    I stare at her, at the way the sun is already flushing her cheeks, at the strange look in her eyes… vulnerable, but determined.  And I can’t help but wonder once again, why she wants me so much. 
    I’m not stupid.  I know I’m not lacking in female attention.  But a girl like Nora can have literally anyone she wants.  And girls like that don’t usually throw themselves at someone….because they think they’re above that.
    It mystifies me. 
    We’re quiet for a while, surrounded by the scent of the hot wooden boards, the lake water, the sunshine. 
    But it doesn’t take long for Nora to get antsy, and I can see why her gardener wanted to be alone to fish.   She chatters, and I sigh.
    “You know, when you talk, you scare away the fish,” I finally tell her. 
    She glares up at me. 
    “You’re not catching anything anyway.”
    I sigh again.  “It takes time.  And patience.”
    She falls silent for just a minute, then my mouth falls open as she unties her bikini top. 
    “What the hell are you doing?” I blurt as she drops her top on the pier and sits topless in the broad daylight. 
    “I don’t want lines,” she shrugs.  “There’s no one out here anyway.  This is a private pier.”   She turns her back to me, and thrusts a plastic bottle over her shoulder.    “Put some sunscreen on my back, would you?  It’s a curse of being a ginger, I burn easily.”
    You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
    It’s the oldest trick in the book.  A chick asks you to put lotion on them at the beach in order to get attention.   
    But still, I sit staring at her bare back, at the expanse of creamy white flesh facing me, and before I know it, I’m grabbing the bottle of sunscreen and dumping some in my hand. 
    My fingers glide over her soft skin, smoothing the lotion over her slender body, skimming over her shoulders, the friction between our skin warming my hand.   
    My groin reacts to such a simple act, tightening, constricting , noticing.  
    Hell. 
    Nora turns with a smile. 
    “Now my front?”
    She thrusts her chest out and her perky tits are in my face, perfect, young and lush.  My dick is rock hard by this point.  
    “You can do your own front,” I growl.  “In fact, put your suit back on.  You’re not a stripper.  You don’t know if someone will show up here.”
    She cocks her head and keeps her chest thrust proudly out. “No one will.  It’s just you and me.”
    “For now,” I tell her firmly. “But you never know.  Stop acting like a bar whore and put your clothes on.”
    The words come out before I can stop it, a reaction to my own frustration, to my own gut reaction at her nakedness. 
    Her face falls and her eyes shutter closed, she’s expressionless now, sullen as she reaches for her top.
    “I didn’t realize I was so offensive,” she mutters.  “I’m sorry.  I’ll just leave you alone out here.”
    She stalks away and I can hear her heels clicking on the pier with every step she takes, as she gets further and further away. 
    I feel awful for crushing her.  And I did crush her.  I saw it in her eyes before she guarded them.  I saw it in the way her shoulders fell, the way she sucked in her breath at my words. 
    I don’t know why I said what I said… except