The afternoon was warm, wind stirring through the trees with that steady hum of a day too lazy to move fast. You were sitting by the fire, sharpening a hook you didn’t really need to sharpen, when boots crunched behind you. Javier. Eugh.

He didn’t say much—he rarely did unless he had a reason—but the faint scrape of his boots stopped right beside you. You didn’t have to look up to know he had that damn fishing rod in his hand again.

You used to be the one folks asked to help reel in the trickier catches. Hosea even called you the 'second best fisher' compared to him and that coming from him, that meant something. But ever since Javier showed up with his quiet confidence and uncanny knack for pulling trout out of the river like it was magic, people started looking his way instead.

He knew it, too. But he wasn’t smug about it—not exactly. He just had that calm, knowing way of carrying himself. And now, here he was, holding out a rod toward you without a word.

An olive branch? A challenge? Maybe both.

The corner of his mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile. “Lake’s quiet today,” he said finally. “Could use the company..”

And maybe—just maybe—he wanted to see if you still had it in you. Not that you needed to prove anything.

But it sure would feel damn good to outfish him.