From the start (Joel Miller x Reader) (EDITED)

Chapter 10

The boat rocked gently beneath you, swaying with the rhythm of the water like it knew better than to rush anything. There was no hurry out here. No phone buzzing, no deadlines, no guest rooms to decode—just the wide-open lake and the soft hum of nature doing its thing.

You exhaled slowly, letting your line settle in the water. Joel sat across from you, one arm resting lazily along the edge of the boat, the other holding his rod like he was born to do it. His eyes squinted slightly against the afternoon sun, and there was something about him in that moment—relaxed, content, a little rugged around the edges—that made your chest ache in a good, stupid way.

"Alright," he said, watching you fidget with your line. "You're holding it like it might bite you instead."

You laughed, adjusting your grip. "Maybe I'm just establishing dominance."

Joel gave a low, amused grunt. "Well, don't let it hear you say that. Fish can sense fear."

"Right. Fish telepathy. Got it." You bit your lip, smiling as you recast. It didn't go far. Joel didn't say anything, but you caught the way his mouth twitched like he was holding back a smart-ass remark.

"I know that face," you said, narrowing your eyes at him. "Don't even think about it."

"Didn't say a word," he said, holding up his hands in mock innocence. "But I am mentally awarding you a trophy for shortest cast of the day."

You rolled your eyes. "You're lucky you're cute."

He gave a sly grin. "Takes one to know one."

The banter gave way to quiet again, the kind that wasn't awkward—just... comfortable. The occasional plunk of a line hitting water, the distant call of loons, the sun dappling through the trees, dancing on the water like it was trying to show off. You watched the way Joel's fingers moved, patient and sure, and something about it made your heart slow down.

He glanced up and caught you looking.

"What?" he asked softly.

You shrugged, a little embarrassed but not sorry. "You just seem really at peace out here."

Joel looked out at the lake, like maybe it still surprised him too. "Yeah. This place... it shuts off all the noise. Makes things clearer."

You nodded. "I get that."

There was a pause.

"You've got good instincts," he added after a beat, nodding toward your rod. "Even if your cast is kind of tragic."

You laughed, bumping your knee lightly against his. "I'm a work in progress, Joel."

"Hey," he said, voice low but warm. "Aren't we all."

A small, happy silence settled between you as you watched your lines dance lazily on the surface.

"I feel like the fish are mocking me," you said eventually. "Like, they've formed a little underwater union just to ignore my bait."

Joel leaned back with a grin. "Nah. I think they're just shy. Or maybe," he added with a wink, "they're hoping for more gossip from us."

You smirked. "They've already heard about your disastrous attempt to deep-fry trout."

He winced playfully. "In my defense, no one told me you can't just dump fish in hot oil without gutting it first."

You doubled over laughing. "That poor trout."

Joel chuckled, then went quiet again, eyes on the horizon. The sun was starting to dip lower, washing everything in soft gold. You watched his profile—the way his jaw clenched just slightly, like he was thinking about something deeper than fishing.