Head First

Chapter 9

Eight dives to go

We pop up above the surface. Everyone is grinning from ear to ear.

‘Wow,’ we all say to each other and to ourselves. ‘That was incredible.’

We inflate our BCDs and bob on the surface. The water laps at our chests. I lick the salt off my lips. The humidity soothes my mouth, which is dry from breathing in straight oxygen. Everyone is quiet. There is a collective feeling of astonishment and joy. It feels like the moment during a concert where the entire crowd starts singing the lyrics to the same song. I relish knowing that I am just as affected by what we just saw as the strangers next to me.

Miguel and Vanessa scurry up the ladder first, pulling themselves out of the water easily, and lowering down a bucket for the rest of us. One by one, the group takes off their fins, shucks them into a bucket hanging off the side of the boat, and hoists themselves up the ladder with effort. Hugh and I are last.

‘You go.’ I gesture at the metal rungs bobbing in the ocean waves.

‘Ladies first,’ he replies. Even though he’s technically being polite, it feels pointed. I glare at him, but he doesn’t budge, his eyes sparkling an electric blue, water dripping off his eyelashes. Tired of waiting, and desperate for a drink of water, I haul myself, cloaked in heavy scuba gear, up the ladder while he watches.

We towel off and huddle in the shade of the captain’s room, balancing our lunches on our laps. We’re all seated once again on the worn vinyl, in our usual seats. Hugh and I are as far away from each other as we can be while still sitting on the same bench. Vanessa is eating with us, sitting next to Andrew. Miguel and Aaron are busy elsewhere.

The group quiets as we start to eat. The crew whipped up a series of grain-forward salads, a remarkable feat considering how small the ship’s kitchen is, and worlds better than the PB&J I was expecting. A bowl of fresh pineapple sits on Aaron’s chair.

‘That was incredible,’ Andrew says to Vanessa between mouthfuls.

‘This year is the best it’s been in years,’ Vanessa tells us. ‘The reef is just starting to recover from a bad bleaching event a few years ago, and the coral cover is coming back.’

‘Cool,’ Andrew says, ‘so the worst is over?’

‘Not exactly,’ Vanessa sighs. ‘Global warming won’t magically improve. And pollution is still a big problem,’ she says, ‘fertiliser from the nearby banana farms is really harming the reef.’ Vanessa gazes at the horizon. I nod vigorously. Vanessa is saying exactly what Millie thinks! I glance at Hugh. He’s pointedly staring at Vanessa. He’s not smiling.

Andrew looks sombre.

‘Garbage is also a big problem,’ Vanessa continues. She inclines her head towards the ocean. ‘Almost every dive I go on, I find plastic.’

‘So, the coral bleaching could come back?’ pipes up Natalie, surprising me, and by the looks of it, Hugh as well, with her interest on the subject.

Vanessa sighs and nods. ‘Every year we roll the dice on whether it will get worse,’ she says.

Natalie sits back in her seat, her expression blank. She whispers something to Derek, who nods. I wonder what she’s thinking. I glance at Hugh and he makes eye contact with me, raising his eyebrows triumphantly before settling back into the bench.

Any hope I had that to look for the butterfly wrasse in peace disappears. He knows I’m searching in hopes it will divert some fund-raising efforts towards pollution, and he thinks I’m not going to find it.

I want to ask Hugh if we can just agree to disagree, and not talk about it, so I wander to the front of the deck, hoping he will follow. There’s a platform on the hull of the boat that’s raised (it’s right over the portion that’s below deck), and it’s large enough to fit two or three people. I climb on top of it and sit myself up against the window to the crew’s room to stretch my feet out. The sun is bright, and I’m thankful I put on a large T-shirt before lunch. There’s a zero per cent chance I can make it through these few days without getting sunburn.

There’s a hammock right next to me that stretches from the window to the mast for the large sail, but I don’t want to be the person who claims the hammock immediately when it’s clearly the best seat in the house, so I stay put.

I gaze out across the ocean and take a deep lungful of salty air. The morning fog has completely lifted. White boats speckle the horizon, all of them appearing after we surfaced from our dive. They’re still far enough away that they’re just dots, and Aaron said they probably won’t come any closer.

‘So, what did you think of our first dive?’ Miguel asks me excitedly, interrupting my train of thought. He’s paused in front of me, mid-walk to the front of the boat.

‘I loved it.’

He bobs his head in agreement. ‘What’s not to love?’

‘I can’t think of a thing,’ I lie. Hugh Harris being on this boat is something I don’t love , I think. I am living a lie, and he is too close for comfort.

‘Have you been to this part of the world before?’ Miguel asks. His hands are full of equipment that looks heavy, but he’s carrying it like it’s air.

‘No,’ I shake my head, ‘but now that I’m here . . .’

‘Let me guess, you don’t want to leave,’ he fills in for me.

‘You caught me!’ I put my hands up, laughing. ‘Who can I bribe to get citizenship?’

Miguel laughs. ‘Hey, I was that way too.’ He shrugs. ‘It worked out for me.’

‘I can’t actually abandon my home to live a life of adventure . . .’

Miguel tilts his head, the smile on his face only getting bigger. ‘Why not?’ he asks, his voice lilting with charm.

Before I can answer, Aaron calls his name. ‘Think about it,’ he says, ‘life is short!’ Then he rushes towards the cabin, equipment in hand.

I stretch out under the hot sun, thinking. Why couldn’t I live in a place like this? I could fly Murphy here . . . he would hate the flight, but he could do it. I couldn’t leave Millie though . . . or my parents . . . I shake the thoughts from my head, I might as well not daydream about the impossible.

I lean back into the platform and relax under the hot sun. If I can’t make this permanent, the least I can do is enjoy the present. I should be taking a nap and getting some rest to better prepare myself to find the butterfly wrasse. I can hear Derek grumbling about reassembling his camera, which apparently has to be cleaned in freshwater after every dive. I don’t know how Natalie doesn’t lose her patience.

‘Did you hear that?’ Pippa whispers as she climbs up onto the platform next to me.

‘Derek?’

She giggles and nods. ‘It’s insane!’ she says. ‘He knows Google has brilliant pictures of the reef, right? Like taken by Nat Geo or whatever? I showed my mum some before we came. I don’t know why he thinks he could take better. He might as well save himself the trouble and print those out.’

I let out a full-on laugh. ‘Pippa,’ I say, still laughing, ‘it’s probably about the “memories”.’

She rolls her eyes at me. ‘He’s giving all of us something to remember, that’s for sure. You know he brought filtered water from the mainland just for the camera bath?’

‘No,’ I gasp.

‘Yep,’ she says. ‘I’d have to off Andrew if he was ever that mad about a toy.’

Pippa and I keep chatting, although it’s mostly her giving opinions of the people on the boat. Aaron: mysterious, she’s desperate to know how old he is. She bet Andrew he was older than forty-five. I glance back at Aaron. With his eyes obscured by sunglasses, he could be anywhere from twenty to fifty.

Pippa continues with her assessment. Vanessa: a total badass. Miguel, she loves . Especially for me. ‘The diving instructor,’ she gushes, ‘perfectly cliché!’

I squirm in my seat. ‘He’s too boyish to be my type,’ I demure, ‘and he flirts with everyone.’

Undeterred, Pippa carries on, excited. ‘And I hear you and Hugh are marine biologists! I want to know everything. How many dives have you been on? What was the coolest thing you saw today? Is this your first time here?’

I laugh at her enthusiasm. ‘I’ve never been here before,’ I confess, ‘but Hugh is Australian, so he has a couple times, I think.’

‘Brilliant! I heard that—’

I’m curious to hear what she has to say about Hugh, but Andrew interrupts her in the middle of her sentence, calling from the captain’s room to see if she’ll help him put on sunscreen.

The sun and the gentle rocking of the boat make me sleepy as soon as I’m left in peace. I’m about to drift off when someone else scrambles onto the other side of the platform. Lazily, I squint out of one eye to see who it is. I’m hoping it’s Pippa, but I would even settle for Andrew, who seems like the kind of guy to come out here to take a nap.

But as I open my eye I take in a large, tanned foot, a muscular calf and a bulging thigh. I know it’s Hugh. I turn my head away from him and pretend to be asleep. If Hugh had come out here fifteen minutes ago, I would have been ready to confront him, but now I just want him to go away.

I hear the telltale crinkling of a book being opened and I can’t resist finding out what it is. I try to turn my head back towards Hugh as slowly as possible. I open one eye slowly. The cover is colourful, and I can make out The Changing Tides of — before I am forced to open one eye fully to read the entire cover.

‘I knew you were awake.’ Hugh snaps his book closed and places it down next to him. My view of the title is obstructed by his torso.

‘Hm,’ I grunt. I don’t know how to approach this situation.

‘So,’ he says. He has sunglasses on, so I can’t tell what colour blue his eyes are, which is my main indicator of his mood. So far, they’ve been dark when he’s angry, grey when he’s confused and light blue when he’s happy. Pretty much the darker they are, the angrier he is. I wonder if I ever thought this much about anyone else’s eyes. I don’t think I have.

‘So?’ I reply.

‘Millie Paxton,’ he says.

I hesitate. I don’t want to lie, so I try to think of something I can say that isn’t confirmation of his statement.

‘Hugh Harris.’

‘Nice to meet you in person.’ He lowers his sunglasses to the bridge of his nose. He’s staring at me so intently that his gaze feels hotter than the South Pacific sun.

‘I wish I could say the same.’

‘I knew you were a typical American girl, but I have to say I’m surprised you follow the stereotype so completely.’

I smile at the mention of our DMs before I register what he said. Confused, I cock my head at him until he gestures at my T-shirt. When I glance down, I can’t help but burst out laughing. I packed a few of my dad’s old shirts for the trip, all oversized and worn down to a threadbare, light layer, perfectly doubling as swimsuit cover-ups. This one happens to feature a drawing of French fries dancing across a McDonald’s logo.

‘Oh my God!’ I press my palm into my forehead. ‘I swear, I did not pick this on purpose.’

Hugh’s abs contract with his laughter, deep and rumbly. ‘I figured it may not belong to you considering it looks older than you are.’

He’s right, there are holes along the hem and the seam of the left shoulder is coming undone.

‘It’s my dad’s,’ I explain.

‘So it runs in the family.’ He raises his eyebrows.

‘I am not going to apologise for being patriotic,’ I say, pushing my sunglasses further up my nose. ‘I happen to like this T-shirt. It’s appropriately vintage, not like you would know.’

Hugh’s wheezing with laughter now.

I glare at him.

‘What?’ he asks, seeing the annoyed look on my face. He wipes a tear from his eye. ‘I’m not even laughing at the T-shirt anymore. I just can’t believe I’m stuck on a boat with you of all people. And we’re sharing a room!’ He dissolves into laughter again.

‘And I can’t believe you’re able to contort your mouth into something that isn’t a frown.’

‘I’m capable of quite a few emotions,’ Hugh informs me, although his mouth settles back into a line.

‘And I’m surprised you’ve found a happy one considering Vanessa just proved my point,’ I retort.

‘Is that what you heard? I heard her say coral bleaching is still an issue.’ Hugh raises his eyebrows at me and for the first time, maybe because his sunglasses are back to covering his eyes, I notice his lips. They’re slightly chapped from sun and wind. His bottom lip is fuller than his top lip in an almost feminine way, but the strong line of his jaw balances it out. He has blond stubble sprouting across his chin.

‘And I heard her say that corals are healthier.’

‘Just because they’re healthier doesn’t mean the problem is fixed.’

‘It does mean that it’s not the primary problem anymore,’ I argue. I’ve spent enough time listening to Millie to know the high-level logic like the back of my hand. ‘Hugh, Vanessa said it herself, the pollution from fertiliser is killing the reef. We have to bring attention to it.’

‘We already have attention on the reef, though, why do we need to pivot it elsewhere, especially when coral bleaching is proven to move people to donate? Why risk people not donating at all?’

‘But that’s just it! Coral bleaching has been so overused that it doesn’t move people as much anymore.’

‘Where are your data points to back that up?’

‘I don’t need data points,’ I growl, although I wish I had service to text Millie and ask her what exactly the data points are. ‘I need a fish to prove to the public that they need to be focusing on something else.’

‘Well, you’re not gonna find it,’ Hugh says smugly.

‘Well, you’re being condescending.’

‘That’s all you’ve got?’

‘Ugh!’ I huff. ‘Look, I was going to ask you if we could just not talk about it. Can we agree to disagree?’

‘OK,’ Hugh says, his tone changing ever so slightly. ‘What do you propose we talk about?’

‘Hmmm . . . seasickness? Eye irritants?’

‘I have a better idea. How about the benefits of reef-friendly sunscreen?’ Hugh says.

‘Oh sure, that sounds like the best path to friendship. I’m sure talking about the one thing I forgot will help me forgive you for humiliating me online repeatedly and disagreeing with everything I stand for.’

Hugh blinks, and for a moment I wonder if I’ve taken things too far.

My worry dissipates as a smug expression crosses his face. ‘Wow, talking about forgiveness already? I didn’t expect that from you, Millie. You seem too stubborn to forgive.’

‘I think I may have spoken too soon,’ I say quickly. ‘Once I find the wrasse, and you apologise, then I’ll forgive you. Until then, don’t distract me. I have important work to do.’

‘OK then,’ Hugh says, but his voice is light. ‘I’ll leave you to your important work .’ He gestures at the book in my hand, Beach Read by Emily Henry. I want to punch myself in the face. Even if I tried, I couldn’t have found anything that looked less like work. I make a mental note to drag my copy of The Marinist magazine upstairs next time.

‘Can you just leave me alone? I’m trying to get some rest.’

‘Sure thing,’ Hugh says, sitting up and lazily stretching his arms out towards the sun. ‘I’ll leave you to your dreams – which is the only place you’ll ever see a butterfly wrasse.’

Before I can think of a retort, he’s gone.

We’re about to start preparing for our second dive when I reach up to touch my head and realise I made a huge mistake by not braiding my hair. My messy bun is now an actual mess. I try to run a comb through it and feel my comb start to bend with the tension, which is a bad start. I bump my elbow into the wooden frame of the bed and let out a yelp. Reluctantly, I drag myself upstairs onto the open air of the deck. Working on knots in public is embarrassing but better than having broken elbows. Painstakingly, I tease my hair into sections and comb them out one by one before pulling them into two tight French braids that run straight down the back of my head.

Hugh pops his head around just as I’m finished.

‘Vane—’ he starts to say, before realising that it’s me he’s talking to. He pauses for a beat and opens his mouth. ‘Nice braids,’ he finally says, in a tone that makes it very unclear whether he was complimenting me or making fun of my braids.

‘Thanks?’ I ask.

He cocks his head to one side and retracts his head from my vantage point. Then, seconds later, he appears again. ‘Also, looks like you missed a spot.’ He says, pointedly glancing at my shoulder. Then he goes back to his book.

I look at where his gaze had lingered, and sure enough, right on the top of my left shoulder is a bright pink sunburn. Somehow, I managed to adequately apply sunscreen everywhere but there.

Thinking about Hugh looking at me so closely, my face flushes red, even brighter than my burned patch of skin. Since our conversation earlier we had barely spoken, and he’s managed to get under my skin more than once.

About an hour ago, I had been chatting with Pippa, who was eager to pick up where our conversation left off. We were sitting in the shade sharing a bench, both of us taking a break from the sun but neither of us wanting to sit in our teeny rooms.

She jumped in right away, asking what the lab was like, and what the career trajectory was for a marine biologist. She was shocked to hear that there were more women than men in the field and lamented the sexism in her own workplace (sales) and how she sometimes was the only woman in meetings.

‘When Andrew wakes up, he’ll want to talk to you about the octopus population here,’ she told me, ‘he’s completely obsessed.’

Andrew popped his head upstairs just as Pippa stopped talking.

‘Andrew,’ she called him over excitedly, ‘I was just telling Millie how much you want to see an octopus.’

‘Oh yeah.’ Andrew grinned. ‘I just love them. I really hope we’ll get to see one, it’s one of the main reasons we decided on this place for our holiday. I read there are loads of them here.’

‘Maybe on the night dive?’ I suggested. Octopuses are notoriously shy, and I didn’t want to get Andrew’s hopes up but if there was ever a chance to see one, this would be the place to do it.

‘Millie is a marine biologist, just like Hugh,’ Pippa explained excitedly.

Andrew tilted his head. ‘You are?’ he asked. ‘But Hugh said . . .’ He trailed off.

‘Hugh said what?’ I asked. My stomach flipped. Does he know?

‘Well, I thought you both were, but then I was talking to him about it, and he said you two didn’t exactly have the same job . . .’

‘Oh,’ I said, trying to stay chipper while I panicked internally. ‘I don’t know what he meant but we are both marine biologists.’

‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’ Andrew blushed. ‘He said something about the lab and the field, and I got completely confused. We don’t get a lot of marine biologists in Clapham.’

‘He’s just overexcited,’ Pippa teased affectionately, laying her hand on Andrew’s arm. ‘Honestly, he’s been so thrilled he’s been half-witted ever since we got here.’

‘Well, what do you expect? It’s probably raining cats and dogs at home right now,’ Andrew said jovially. ‘Anyway, I would love to hear anything you know, Millie.’

I was so relieved that Hugh was making a snide comment about where Millie worked, and not that he thought my marine biology skills were lacking, that I let the awkwardness slide. I told Andrew everything I knew about the blanket octopus, a rare species where the females are thousands of times the size of the males and the blue-ringed octopus, which is small, spotted and extremely poisonous.

Andrew and Pippa loved it, soaking in every detail. Millie will be thrilled to know how much quizzing me paid off. Andrew’s curiosity endeared me to him quickly, even after the comment he made about his conversation with Hugh.

I almost confronted Hugh about it, wanting to know why he felt the need to distinguish between Millie’s job and his job, but I didn’t want him to know it bothered me. The last thing I need is for him to realise how much of my brain space he’s taking up.

‘Stinger suits on!’ barks Vanessa, bringing me back to the present moment. She gets more spirited and bossier with every passing hour, which I find to be a huge relief because the further we are from shore, the less confident I feel in myself. I hurry downstairs to put my brush away, my braids bouncing against my back as I go.

I’m barely back upstairs when Vanessa’s voice rings out again.

‘Miguel, you’re with me now,’ she yells in Miguel’s direction.

I pause with my stinger suit halfway up my torso. If Vanessa is with Miguel, then . . . I look around and see Hugh staring at me.

‘Pippa,’ I say in my sweetest voice. Her stinger suit was hung up next to mine and she has one hand on the railing and the other trying to yank her foot through the ankle hole. ‘Are you partnering with Andrew for this dive?’

Pippa laughs. ‘Unfortunately, yes. No one else wants to partner with the one person who can’t get their buoyancy figured out.’

‘Great!’ I say, false cheer emanating from my throat. I look in Hugh’s direction again, but he’s gone.

I scurry over to the scuba tanks as fast as I can. I catch the tail end of Hugh’s conversation with Vanessa, which I’m positive is him trying to convince her that they should be dive buddies. He is giving her a smouldering look that I’ve never seen before. His hands are gripping the railing, and his forearms are bulging. He smiles at her, flashing his straight square white teeth. There’s no denying it, he looks hot. Vanessa seems strong-willed, but this might break her.

‘Sorry!’ she trills in her sing-song Italian accent. ‘First dive was an exception. Instructors are usually paired with each other, it’s easier for us to keep an eye on the whole group when we’re not worried about our buddies.’

‘Dang it!’ I mutter under my breath. Both turn to look at me.

‘Millie! Perfect! You two, together,’ Vanessa commands, pointing at me and Hugh.

Miguel catches my eye and mouths something that looks like an apology, shrugging sheepishly in Vanessa’s direction.

Reluctantly, I sit next to Hugh on the bench and we strap ourselves into our life vests. His expression is serious, like he’s gone into work mode. We go through the motions, checking to make sure our air tanks are full and testing our regulators. Then, without speaking, we both turn towards each other to perform the buddy checks.

I wrap my fingers underneath Hugh’s jacket straps and yank down to make sure they’re snug. I can feel the heat from his body through his stinger suit. He’s as still as a statue, and I yank a bit harder than I have to, seeing if it’ll break his flat expression, but he doesn’t react. I check his air pressure. I press on his regulator and his backup. I inflate and deflate his BCD. I try to be collected and professional, but I’m terrified I’ll miss a step and he’ll notice. When I finally drop my hands and settle back onto the bench, Hugh reaches over to begin his check.

‘Regulator,’ he says, pressing the button. He’s murmuring in a low voice, and it sends chills up my spine.

‘Air pressure.’ He picks up the gauge and his fingers brush my waist.

‘BCD.’ He slides his fingers into the space between the strap and my chest. His face is so close to mine I can count the freckles on his perfectly sloped nose. I stop breathing. He’s moving excruciatingly slow, like he can sense my discomfort.

‘You don’t have to be so thorough.’ My voice comes out of my throat in a low growl.

‘Just because I don’t respect your work doesn’t mean I want something to happen to you,’ Hugh murmurs back, ‘then I’d have to be the one to drag your body to the surface, and it’d be a whole big hassle . . .’ His voice is gravelly but has a teasing note. I stare out at the water, aching to jump in and clear my head to shake off this encounter. How can I be attracted to him and so aggravated by him at the same time?

‘A hassle,’ I muse, unable to resist calling him out. ‘Not a loss though, especially considering I’m just someone who works in a lab. We’re not the same kind of marine biologist. You are far more important.’

Hugh’s eyebrows raise in surprise as he processes my comment.

He glances at Andrew. ‘That isn’t what I meant,’ he says in a low voice. ‘We just have a different attitude towards the field. Don’t act like you haven’t realised that.’

‘No, we do n—’

‘You guys ready?’ asks Vanessa, interrupting me.

‘All good!’ Hugh says suddenly, snapping back into his normal voice. He straightens up and straps on his mask.

‘Yep. All good,’ I say, but Hugh’s already walking towards the break in the railing. In one swift motion, he sits on the bench and leans backwards, catapulting head first into the calm water in a perfectly executed backflip. I follow, feet first, like Miguel taught me. Hugh’s presence is driving me insane. Different attitudes? What does that even mean? I take a giant step into the ocean thinking: Focus, Andi, you cannot let Millie down. Hugh is playing games with you, and you promised yourself no distractions.

But all I can think about when I pop up in the water is how badly I want to continue our conversation. And how impossibly good Hugh’s hair looks when it’s slicked back with seawater.