overhead.
I lifted my rope up and it immediately fell over me. “It looks like I caught myself,” I said.
“Not the worst catch,” Sawyer muttered, bending down to pick the loop up. “Remember, you want to keep it swinging with enough momentum to not fall on you but not hard enough that it stops being a loop and straightens out, okay?”
“What was that first part?” I asked coyly.
“Keep it swinging with momentum,” he said, grinning and not acknowledging the flirty comment. “Here, let’s get you something to aim at.”
Sawyer walked over and grabbed a log, one of the ones we had used for camping seating, and stood it up on its end.
“Watch this,” he said, taking several steps back and swinging the rope over his head. “You want to make sure you aren’t throwing it but releasing it. That’s the trick. Let the rope do the work. You’re just deciding when to let it go.” He let go of the loop and it fell just over the log. Snapping his hand back over the lariat, the loop closed, and the log fell, wrapped in his lasso. “See? Not too hard. Now you try it.”
He set the log back up and stood back while I swung the rope above my head. I tried to remember all the things he pointed out, but when I let go of the rope, it just fell directly in front of me. I laughed at how terrible the throw was and looked back at Sawyer.
“I am horrible at this,” I said.
Sawyer shook his head, smiling and walking toward me. “Everyone has a hard time at first,” he said. “Let me help you.”
His body enveloped mine and I sank my back into his broad, muscular chest. His musk surrounded me, and I wanted to just wrap myself up in him like a blanket. He took my throwing arm in his hand and pulled it up, having me begin the motion of twirling. Again, when I let it go, it collapsed around me, only this time trapping Sawyer and me together. Thinking quickly, I pulled to tighten the rope.
“Oh no,” I said with not a hint of sadness.
Loosening the rope slowly, Sawyer stepped out and I saw him glance back at the rest of the group. They were still quite enamored with Colt and his tricks and weren’t paying any attention to us. Sawyer placed a hand on my hip and the other on my wrist, pulling his head down by my ear.
“Let’s try that again,” he said, and I felt a shiver go up my spine.
“Yes, sir,” I said.
We continued to practice with the lasso, and I was abjectly terrible at it. But that wasn’t the point. Sawyer seemed genuinely like he wanted to teach me. There was a lot of laughter, and he put his hands on my hips or my hand to show me a motion perhaps a little more than was absolutely necessary, but it was endearing how earnestly he seemed to want me to learn how to lasso.
There were no condescending comments or attitude. He wasn’t showing off and being macho like Colt was with the other group. There was no silly bravado. He watched every move and made comments to try to help me grasp the ideas and help me get better at something I would literally likely never do again. I felt myself starting to actually try harder, and step by step, I got a little better. Once I figured out the release motion, I actually got the rope bouncing off the log.
“Almost,” he yelled as the rope landed on the top of the log and then fell off the side.
“I had it!” I said, kicking at the ground. I was frustrated but happy. It was a weird feeling. I had a sudden sense of competitiveness and wanted to learn how to do this before Rubin or Cecelia did.
I looked back over my shoulder once or twice to see them trying to do the same things I was, but while Colt was clearly very good at what he did, he wasn’t half the teacher Sawyer was. But then again, maybe Sawyer was really only a good teacher for me. There might have been a little extra motivation for him to watch my body when I threw the lariat.
We kept throwing the lasso, with me getting closer each time. Once or twice, it just sailed over it, and then another time, it hit the side just at the edge, almost on the top.
Sawyer