Bayou

Chapter 15 ~ Doggy style

Chapter 15

I'd never been a strong swimmer. When it came time to kick my legs and flap my arms, I always ended up looking like a drunk seal, but I was a solid doggy-paddler, and when Croc started forward up the canal, that was my go to.

After a few minutes of him getting too far ahead, he turned back and stopped to wait for me. He followed my motions, biting his bottom lip to try and stop it from quirking. "Why are you doing that?"

I stopped and just managed to tiptoe my chin above the water. "What's wrong with it? It's called a doggy paddle."

His lips broke free, and he lifted his hand to cover them. "A...doggy paddle?"

"Yes," I said. "It's a very popular form of swimming." For children who don't know how to swim yet. I ground my teeth, not liking his judgment but also grateful to have something to talk about. Doggy paddling seemed like the perfect thing to explore compared to everything else I could be thinking about. Still, he was being a bit insensitive. "Since when do you make fun of people, Croc? I've never seen you be anything but curious. Don't you want to know all about the doggy paddle?"

He rumbled a laugh and shook his head. "No. I don't think I do."

"Oh, I see. Well, then, if you don't like the way I swim..." I struggled toward the bank, but one step across the uneven ground sent me plummeting below the surface.

Croc pulled me up by my arm and deposited me back where I could stand. "Do it again?"

I glared at him.

"What? I want to learn. I do. Show me again."

I stared at his sincere expression a few minutes. He was full of shit. He didn't want to learn. He wanted to laugh at me some more. Regardless, I begrudgingly swam forward a couple of feet.

Croc chuckled, then rumbled, then exploded with deep, throaty laughter.

I stood again, and in my new spot, I was able to place my feet flat on the ground. "You're making fun of me."

He shook his head, but it didn't mean much when he was doubled over howling.

Once again, it was impossible to stay mad when he looked the way he did. Sure, the children made him laugh. Julia made him laugh, but not like this. This was different. The cadence and depth of each rumble of his chest caused a zing of warmth to course through my stomach. I ignored the feeling and placed my hands on my hips, waiting for him to finish.

Croc took a deep breath and relaxed backward into the water. His floating felt like a brag. Look what I can do? It seemed to say. Bet you can't do that, is what I heard.

"I don't get it," he said, smiling despite my obvious annoyance. "Why do you scrunch your body up like that? Your legs are barely doing anything, and your hands..." He pulled his up to his chest and mimicked me, flapping them back and forth like a T-rex challenging someone to a slapping match. He laughed again. "It's like you're trying not to touch the water."

"Hardy-har-har. I get it, okay? You win. I'm not a good swimmer." Jerk. I hated braggers. So what if I couldn't swim? I'd never needed to. I didn't live in a swamp, and I'd been too busy surviving to participate in extracurricular activities.

He shifted back upright. "Really? So everyone doesn't swim like that where you're from?"

I crossed my arms. "Kids do, until they learn."

"Ah, I see. That makes a lot more sense." He dipped down, bending his knees until the water reached his chin, then slowly closed the space between us and pulled me down to his level. "Why didn't you learn?"