Rebecca smiled nervously. She liked that Devin held her hand and kissed her, that he walked down the street with his arm around her and called her his girlfriend. I’m someone’s girlfriend, she thought. She liked that he didn’t push her or try to touch her too much – not in that way. They’d lived down the hall from each other at Yoshi Oba’s Art Motel and had been on the road for three days now, sleeping together in uncomfortable double beds at roadside hotels or sharing Devin’s tent. They hadn’t had sex, she hadn’t even seen his cock – at least not close up and fully hard. It wasn’t like that with Devin, Rebecca thought. Devin is a gentleman. She was grateful he’d been so patient, but she also knew he’d waited long enough. Every time he touched her or kissed her she wondered if it would happen. She wanted to, but was relieved when it didn’t.

They stopped two hours before reaching Whitehorse, at Teslin, off the Alaska Highway. Rebecca wanted one more night of calm before returning to confront all the reasons that drove her leave in the first place.
They took their shoes off and waded into the water. Rebecca hiked up her skirt and walked deeper into the lake. She peered into the water. A few feet ahead she caught sight of a fish, then another. She walked further in, up to her waist. She let go of her skirt and it floated up around her. She stood very still and watched the water. Suddenly, she reached forward and under. Devin watched from the shore as Rebecca lifted her arms up, wrestling with a fish.

The fish was dead by the time Rebecca made it back to shore. She smiled at Devin. “Where’d you learn how to do that?” he asked, unable to hide his astonishment.

Rebecca shrugged and smiled, proud of her innate talent. “I don’t know. I’ve never done it before.”

“Wow.”

“I know.”

For dinner, they ate the Arctic grayling Rebecca caught with her hands.

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