Chapter 21
Two dives to go
Lunch sets the group on a trajectory towards a siesta. We only have one more dive today and it’s not for another three hours. Natalie and Derek have camped out in the sun of the platform. The wind has picked up and is ripping through the captain’s room, making it hard to find any peace and quiet on the benches. I retreat downstairs to take a nap on my bunk bed. My skin needs to be out of the sun, at least for a little while.
Before I head downstairs, I see Natalie and Hugh talking, and when Hugh glances at me during their conversation I feel my gut clench. Natalie has no reason to dig up the first-class debacle now , I remind myself, but I still end up lying on my twin mattress staring at the paint-peeled ceiling, unable to sleep.
I dug myself in too deep by expecting Hugh to be perfectly honest with me and getting angry with him when he wasn’t. And then he doubled down on ‘having integrity’ and actually tried to help me find the wrasse. I could never let him find out I wasn’t Millie. He would never forgive me. And I would rather live with never seeing him again, but knowing that he liked me, than having to tell him the truth.
I must drift off at some point because I wake up groggily to creaking on the bunk bed below me.
‘Hugh?’ I call out softly.
‘Ugh,’ Hugh grunts. ‘These beds are so tiny.’
I grunt in affirmation.
‘Since Derek and Natalie took our usual spot, I figured I would come see if this worked.’
‘It’s not the same.’
‘Not at all,’ he agrees.
I stare at the ceiling. ‘How was your chat with Natalie?’ I finally get up the nerve to ask.
He doesn’t respond.
‘Hugh?’ I prompt. My heart rate starts to pick up. I feel sweat dampening my inner elbows. Oh no.
Hugh coughs.
I want to peer over and look down at him, but I’m frozen with fear.
Finally, he speaks. ‘Yeah, about that . . .’ His voice sounds off. I can’t put my finger on it.
‘What is it?’
After he doesn’t respond right away, I gather my courage and peer over the bed. Hugh is hunched over his mattress, his knees pulled up towards his belly.
‘I think I’m feeling kinda seasick.’ He looks up at me, his face noticeably paler. His eyes have gone a light icy blue.
‘Oh God,’ I reply, first feeling relief and then worry. ‘Is there anything I can do?’ I ask, but Hugh’s already halfway out the door.
‘I gotta-—’ He takes a gulp of air ‘—go upstairs.’
I follow Hugh upstairs right away, clambering out of my top bunk and scampering up the ladders behind him, but I reach the deck only to find him already reaching for a mask and snorkel.
‘Care to join?’ he asks, all but sprinting off the boat.
‘What—’ I begin to ask but he interrupts me.
‘I gotta go swim for a bit,’ he says, as he takes a running start and dives into the water.
Vanessa is standing next to the bucket of snorkels and shrugs. ‘Being in the water helps seasickness.’
I scan the boat to see if anyone else is swimming, and see Miguel pointedly looking the other way, clearly trying to stay as far from potential seasickness as possible.
I stand awkwardly by the railing, watching Hugh surface and duck under waves, steadily kicking further from the boat and closer to the reef. The top of the reef is barely visible, a foot or two under the surface about thirty yards from the boat. After a minute, Vanessa nudges me with her shoulder.
‘Do you want to go?’ she asks impatiently. ‘If you go, then I don’t have to. But I don’t want him out there alone – it’s getting a little choppy.’
It’s the least I can do after Hugh recharted our dives. ‘I guess.’ I shrug.
I grab a snorkel from the bucket, spit in the lens, and swish it out with water. Then, I follow Hugh. I try to take a running start like he did, but I chicken out and slip in feet first, nice and slow. The ocean is cool, especially without our stinger suits, and I take a few strokes towards Hugh to warm up. He’s already diving down with his snorkel to check out the reef and surfacing back up like a seal.
‘Are you feeling better?’ I ask, when I reach him and we’re both above water.
He nods happily. ‘Much.’
‘You’re a good swimmer,’ I observe. Even though we’ve been scuba-diving together for days, it’s hard to tell how comfortable people are in the water without a life jacket strapped to their chest keeping them afloat.
‘You’re not so bad yourself,’ Hugh replies. Although his gaze is directed at my body, and we’re treading water so close to each other that I think he’s talking about something else entirely.
I blush. ‘I’m pretty sure there’s more interesting things than me to look at around here.’
‘I’ll be the judge of that.’ Hugh grins, and dives down again.
Access to the reef from a snorkeller’s vantage point is totally different. Some parts of the reef are so close to the surface that there isn’t even room for us to swim over them. We are awestruck at the view, the late-afternoon sunlight streaming over the rocks and the coral.
There’s kelp-like grass reaching for the surface and slimy rocks covered in barnacled algae. Sunlight catches on the slime left from snails that move slowly across the rocks. Curlicues of coral send their fluffy spikes towards the ocean’s surface; they remind me of layers of feather boas.
I’m just as fascinated with the coral as I am with the fish, and there seem to be more fish up here, closer to the sun. They’re smaller, and a lot of them have a silvery sheen, which glints in the sunlight as they dart around our bodies. For a moment I wish I’d brought my camera, but then Hugh grabs my hand and directs my pointer finger towards a crevice. He’s spotted something.
Together we take turns diving down to gaze at a reclusive lionfish. Lionfish are not native to the Great Barrier Reef, they’re invasive and detrimental to the native fish species, but there is no denying they’re beautiful – every single one of their spines is perfectly striped reddish brown and white. The lionfish we’re looking at is mesmerising, but we keep our distance – both of us know they’re poisonous. After a while we tire and flip on our backs to rest, snorkels in hand.
Hugh’s free hand grabs mine. I feel my entire body jolt with energy. My thoughts race. What am I doing? How have I forgiven him so quickly? But we have to keep holding hands so we don’t drift apart on the waves. I don’t have a choice but to enjoy our bodies knocking together gently, both of us staring up at the sky. We float over a crest that is so big it flips both of us onto our backs, and suddenly our limbs are intertwined. The saltwater makes us both float easily. Our faces are inches from each other.
I can see each individual drop of water flecking his face. One catches on his impossibly long eyelashes. His eyes are bright aqua, the same colour as the water, and I’m close enough to count the gold flecks around his irises. His face is mesmerising. I bite my bottom lip, suddenly self-conscious that he’s looking at me as closely as I’m looking at him.
As if we’re in slow motion, he brings a thumb to my bottom lip and frees it from my teeth.
‘Are you cold?’ he asks.
I realise I’m shaking, but I’m not cold. ‘No,’ I breathe.
Hugh runs his thumb over my lip and down onto my chin. Slowly, he wraps his fingers around the back of my neck. My entire body flushes with pleasure. Looking into his eyes is so powerful I feel like I could explode, so instead I focus on his shoulders, which are rising just inches above the water, and I watch as the tendons of muscle that wrap around his neck flex. I remember how it felt to have my face tucked into the crook of his neck and I yearn for it. The muscle in his jaw pulses.
I can’t. I shouldn’t. Not again . . . not when I need clear boundaries. But what was I thinking, kissing him for the first time in the dark? And now . . . he’s lit up like a Greek god. How am I supposed to resist?
But you’re lying to him , the other voice in my head reminds me.
‘Millie,’ Hugh breathes, ‘how can you pretend like you don’t feel this?’
I stare at him. ‘I . . . I . . .’ My voice catches. There are so many things I want to say that I can’t bring myself to. How did we get here ? How did we get from sniping at each other’s grammar to breathless in the ocean? ‘I thought we were supposed to hate each other,’ I say dumbly, my thoughts jumbled and my words not making much sense.
‘Maybe,’ Hugh says, his voice low. ‘But I don’t hate you. I hate how we are sharing an impossibly tiny room that now smells entirely of your shampoo, but that you’re sleeping as far away from me as possible. I hate how you beat up on your curls when you’re worried about something.’ He looks at my hand, which is tugging on an errant curl. I gulp.
‘I hate how you always know just what to say to get under my skin and how determined you are to find a fish I don’t want to be found, but I don’t hate you.’
‘Don’t you when-Harry-met-Sally me,’ I say, although my words lack conviction. Our faces are still inches apart. Our bodies bob up and down with the waves. If I leaned in two more inches, I could taste him again.
‘When-Harry-met-Sally you?’ His eyebrows knit together in confusion, forming a wrinkle. I want to smooth it out with the pad of my finger.
‘You know . . . that movie . . . when he lists all the things he loves about her and makes her love him too.’ I can hardly form a sentence, I’m so distracted by the proximity of Hugh’s jawline.
Hugh shakes his head back and forth. ‘But I said all the things I hate about you.’ A lopsided grin forms on his face. He pauses, then says with a smile, ‘So it worked in the movie?’
I am frozen with indecision. Somewhere in the back of my brain, my body is making me kick to stay afloat. I open my mouth to speak, but I don’t know what to say. It did work in the movie. And it’s working on me.
‘Millie,’ Hugh says again, his voice deeper, thick with emotion. ‘Honestly, you’ve always intimidated me.’
‘Me?’ I scoff. Then I remember he’s really talking about Millie, and she can be quite intimidating.
‘But meeting you in person . . . you’re . . . you’re different. Softer . . .’
Under the water, Hugh runs his hand down my thigh and slowly pulls me closer. Somewhere in the recesses of my brain I’m aware that there’s time to break the spell, but I can’t manage to do it. I can’t force my body to move, my attraction is too strong.
I cave into his gentle pull and suddenly our bodies are touching everywhere. A sigh escapes my lips. Hugh takes a deep breath. Ninety per cent of my brain is in an electrified heaven. Ten per cent knows this is wrong. He thinks I’m my sister . The ninety per cent takes over.
Hugh’s hands caress my hips and the back of my head, his fingers gently pulling at my hair. Our faces are almost touching. Slowly, our lips meet, furtively grazing each other. Suddenly, we’re plunged into a long, fervent kiss, both of us hungry. Our tongues are greedy, searching for the depths of one another. Our hips lock together and move in unison against each other. I bring both of my hands around the back of his head and finally get to dig my fingers into his hair. I feel him hardening through his swimsuit. I am wet in more ways than one.
I’m surprised to remember how he feels so viscerally, even though we just kissed yesterday, I feel like I’m having the best kind of déjà vu.
Hugh runs his fingers underneath the seam of my swimsuit and tugs at the string. I return the favour, slipping my thumb down the front of his waistband. He slips his hand over the front of my bikini and palms my breast, his finger caressing my nipple. I gasp. More , I think. I want more.
Our breathing becomes laboured, both of us focused on each other and not enough on staying afloat. A wave crashes over the top of our heads and drenches us, bringing the moment to a crashing halt.
We separate underwater, both of us pulling ourselves to the surface to take in gulps of air.
Hugh looks at me with a glint in his eye and inclines his head towards the boat. ‘How do you feel about going somewhere a little—’
He’s interrupted by another wave that surges around us.
‘Less choppy?’ I supply, once we’ve both caught our breath again. He nods, a wicked grin spreading across his face. ‘Race you to our room,’ I say, diving under and kicking as hard as my fins will let me.
Hugh is fast to follow, grabbing for my ankle with his fingers and barely missing, his fingertips dragging along my foot, the touch enough to make me want to wrap my legs around him all over again.
We reach the side of the boat at the same time, breathless. I reach up for the ladder rungs and Hugh trails his fingertips up my inner thigh under the cover of the water.
‘How was it?’ Pippa asks, her head popping over the railing.
Hugh’s fingertips disappear. I wipe the smile off my face as fast as I can, but my heart thunders in my chest.
‘Fine!’ I say, hauling myself onto the deck. I try to readjust my swimsuit as nonchalantly as possible. I can’t tell from Pippa’s face whether anyone saw us making out in the water.
Hugh reaches the deck moments after me, his abs rippling as he stands up. I feel like the wind got knocked out of me all over again.
‘I think I might go in,’ Pippa muses, ‘or is it too choppy?’
‘It’s not so bad,’ I say, edging towards the stairs to my room. Pippa eyes me, but before she can say anything, Hugh announces that he’s going to go grab his phone. He walks downstairs calmly, like nothing happened. And every cell in my body strains to meet him in our room.
‘I’m going to go get cleaned up,’ I say, leaving Pippa in my wake. I force myself to walk excruciatingly slowly, hoping no one notices how much of a hurry I’m in to follow Hugh.
By the time I’m down the narrow steps, I’m racing towards our room. Only once I’m inside and have shut the door behind me, do I get to fully take in Hugh standing, his head slightly bent against the celling, staring at me with the most wolfish grin I have ever seen. The boat creaks loudly.
‘Perfect,’ he says, ‘if that keeps happening, you can be as loud as you want.’ He steps towards me and gently pulls at the tie of my bikini. The back comes undone. He unties the string around my neck next. I reach for his shorts, but he places one hand over mine.
‘In case you haven’t noticed,’ he murmurs, his lips right next to my ear, ‘there’s only room for one at a time in here.’
I open my mouth to protest, but he covers my lips with his as he unties each side of my swimsuit bottoms. They fall to the floor and he lowers me onto his twin mattress. The smell of him on the sheets makes my hips arch with desire.
He thumbs my nipple with one hand and slips his other hand in between my legs. He kisses my neck, his lips fluttering over my collarbone. I’m ready for him already. He teases the edge of my lips with his finger, his thumb stroking my clit.
‘Hugh,’ I gasp. I reach for him, to pull him closer towards me, to feel his lips on mine, but he resists, swirling his tongue around my nipple instead. He slides a finger inside me and pleasure courses through me. I thrust my hips with him, wanting more of him, deeper in me. Another finger joins the first. I whimper.
His thumb keeps circling while his mouth kisses lower and lower. He swirls his tongue over my belly button. I see stars against the wooden frame of the bunk bed.
Suddenly, his mouth replaces his thumb, his tongue kissing the bundle of nerves with so much intensity my toes curl. His fingers maintain a steady rhythm, driving me deeper, and his other hand circles my nipple again. He teases me with pressure in so many places I already feel like I could burst.
‘Hugh,’ I gasp again.
Everything stops. His fingers still, he raises his head of shaggy blond hair.
‘Millie,’ he breathes. Then he sucks on me again, before raising his head once more. ‘You taste.’ Another lick, this one slower, more teasing. ‘Incredible.’ Then his fingers are in me again, pumping faster and faster. My hips are moving of their own accord, grinding against his face, his hand. I’m on the verge of climax, the pleasure too intense, when Hugh does something with his tongue that I’ve never felt before. A moan escapes my lips as I shatter around his fingers, my hips bucking up towards his face, my hands grabbing the sheets next to me. He doesn’t stop until I’ve stopped shaking, my body relaxing into the mattress.
His head appears from between my legs, a lazy grin spreading across his face.
My brain starts to process my surroundings again, the creaking sway of the boat, the wood frame inches above my head. As the sensations ebb, a thought crystallises, repeating in my brain.
Millie, you taste incredible. Millie. Millie. I gulp in a breath of air. Dread settles over me like sand settling on the ocean floor. How did I let it get this far? I can’t keep lying to him. I can’t jeopardise Millie’s career this way.
‘Millie,’ Hugh says, and my knees clamp together on their own accord. I scramble away from him, peeling myself off the bed.
‘I should go shower,’ I manage to mumble, the words hard to get out. His smile disappears. He bites his bottom lip.
‘Already?’ he asks, disappointment echoing in his voice.
‘Yes, I . . .’ I trail off, I don’t know what to say. I pull a towel around my body, suddenly hyper-aware of my own nakedness. At the hurt look on Hugh’s face, my heart feels like it’s breaking into a million pieces. ‘It’s not you.’
‘Was that not . . .’ He trails off.
‘It was,’ I say, but my voice is tinged with worry. Everything Hugh just did to my body, to my senses, to my mind, proved to me something I didn’t want to admit. That I really like Hugh, maybe even more than I’ve ever liked anyone. And that Hugh thinks I’m my sister. Which means . . . ‘But I think it was a mistake . . . I think maybe we’re better off as friends,’ I force myself to say.
‘Friends . . .’ He repeats, his eyes glazed over, turning darker with every second.
I don’t want to think about it, so I turn towards the door. I can’t meet Hugh’s eyes. My gaze flits over the stuff scattered across my bed and I see the journal Millie made for me. I remember the real reason I’m here – the reason I keep conveniently forgetting about, and Hugh keeps distracting me from.
I am here to do something for my sister. I am pretending to be her, but that doesn’t mean that I’m no longer me . I am not someone who lets a random fling distract her for a job. No matter how deep in my bones I want to do to Hugh what he just did to me, no matter how badly I ache for it to happen again, no matter how much my body knows, although my brain can’t admit it, that I’ve never felt a desire so strong for anyone else, I can’t let my feelings keep clouding my vision.
Clutching my towel around my waist, I slip out of our room. I make a promise to myself for what feels like the thousandth time: if I can’t tell Hugh the truth, which I can’t, then no more letting him distract me.