Chapter 14
chapter fourteen
When I finally catch up to Nate, he seems determined not to talk about Rob. He smiles and hands over my flower sunglasses, giving me a half-ass excuse that I’d need them. Judging by the way I’ve squinted all morning, I’m inclined to say that it’s the right choice.
“This isn’t a massive island,” he says. “But there’s a botanical garden.”
I can still see the tense line of his shoulders, and the way he doubts I’ll stay away from Rob hurts.
But my bravery is waning. I pushed things by asking Nate what he really thought. And now I regret it. I want today to be fun, and I’m determined to get rid of the lingering awkwardness between us.
“That sounds fun,” I say. “Shall we get in line?”
He nods. It’s later in the morning and there are less people getting off the boat this time, yet the line seems to be slower. I’m mostly focused on Nate and wishing I could start some sort of banter to completely melt any remaining tension.
I haven’t given the island a second thought, but when we get to the front of the line, I realize I’ve made a massive mistake .
The water glistens below and I see a smaller ferry waiting for us. It rocks in a way the larger ship doesn’t as people are walking on to sit. Looking out, I realize there is no port. We’re in the middle of the ocean still, and we have to ride the dingy little thing to shore.
Oh fuck no. I’ve grown used to the sight of water, but the cruise ship makes it feel farther away, so much so that it doesn’t feel as dangerous. But the tiny thing looks like it’s in the water, barely above it.
“Shit,” Nate says. “You okay? I didn’t know there wasn’t a port here.”
I wish him being within just a few inches of me would cure my fear, but I’m still about to board a tiny boat that I can barely trust when I can’t fucking swim.
Nothing feels scarier.
All I can do is jerk my head side to side. Words are impossible.
His hands land on my shoulders. He moves us to the side so others can get on the boat. I’m worried he’ll let me go the second we’re out of the way, so I grip his wrists to keep him close.
He’s warm and real.
“Okay, here’s what we can do.” His green eyes meet mine. “We can stay here and find something else to do for the whole day. Or I can help you onto the boat. But either way, you’re in control, and I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”
“It’s just ... small.” At least I can talk. He doesn’t take away the fear, but he helps.
“I know. And I should’ve looked into it further. What do you know? I actually am bad at reading. But we can walk away now.”
I study the planes of his face. This close, his eyelashes curl against his slightly tan skin. He’s got a little stubble; he must have forgotten to shave this morning.
Usually, he’s far enough away that I can’t see these things.
And that distance has been bothering me.
I hate this. I hate that there’s any tension at all between us. It feels wrong after being friends for so long without it .
We’re fine when we’re busy, which is why we can’t stay on the ship.
Slowly, I gulp in air. “I want to go to the shore.”
“You sure?” he asks.
It sounds like a death sentence, but I nod anyway. “Can you just ... stick close? You were serious about saving my ass if I somehow fall in, right?”
“I am.” He says it quietly, but the curve of his brow tells me he’s unsure about something.
Is it me asking him to stay close?
“Come on,” he says. “Let’s try to board.”
Nate is kind enough to keep one firm hand on my shoulder as we walk toward the tiny boat. My teeth grind. Now I wish he were closer and I’m scared out of my mind.
It’s not a great combination.
Slowly, we get on the tiny thing. It rocks with the movement of the ocean and my fists tighten. Nate and I sit next to each other. It’s so crowded that our thighs are pressing together. I know he hates it, and I turn away from him so I can’t see his expression.
Through the other people who are also finding their spots on the boat, I can see the water. My knuckles go white as I glare out.
I can’t help that I don’t have good memories of swimming, and it’s not the ocean’s fault that things are different between Nate and me, but it’s the only place I can look where he won’t see me and worry.
The terror in my gut settles with the way I miss him. It turns into something hotter and sharper, and I try to push it away.
I don’t want to be angry that Nate’s put distance between us. It’s not his fault.
But I am .
I want to be able to link our arms without a second thought. I wish I could focus only on how terrifying this boat is without feeling guilty that I’m making him be near me. Back when we were kids, none of this was an issue. And I want that again .
The boat starts moving when I’m not prepared for it. It’s a sudden jerk that nearly topples me over.
Nate steadies me with an arm around my shoulders. “I’ve got you,” he says.
“Thanks.” I force a smile before I look back out at the water. His arm slips from my shoulders, just like I knew it would.
Everyone else seems so comfortable being on this thing. Too many eyes are gazing at the water with wonder, and I don’t understand the appeal of it.
I can still feel what it was like to go under. My limbs flailed and I breathed in water when I shouldn’t have. My chest burns as I picture it.
And here I am. Near it again.
A hand closes over mine. At first, I go to yank it away, but then my brain catches up. It’s familiar.
“Take a breath.” Nate’s voice is soft.
Slowly, I turn, unable to believe he’s actually touching me. But it is his hand, and it stays there, even when I expect him to pull back.
“You’re still tense as hell, berry. You’ll hurt yourself if you keep this up.”
Right. He wants me to breathe and loosen up. It feels impossible, but the way his face contorts into a frown that’s so unnatural to him makes me want to try.
I force myself to let go. My hands go lax, and I realize I’ve pressed my nails into my palms hard enough that they hurt. My muscles nearly cry with relief.
“Sorry,” I say. “I just can’t wait to be on land.”
“We’re almost there. It’s close.” It doesn’t seem close enough at all, and as I look at the water behind him, my grip on him tightens. “Hey,” he says softly. “You were doing good. Don’t ruin it now.”
I nod. Any second now, he’ll pull away and the cycle will start again. I know he can’t tolerate this for long.
Instead, his hand stays. He’s a lifeline. There’re only a few minutes left in the ride, but when I tense up again, he tells me that I’m okay. I need his words to survive.
Finally, we come to a long, wooden dock that stretches to the island. I nearly jump up, eager to get off the boat. There’s a second where I freeze up, but Nate gets off first and he helps me step over the water.
“Thank fuck,” I mutter. “Would it be weird if I kissed the dock?”
He laughs. “How good is your immune system? You already exposed yourself earlier to the deck. Who knows what’s been on this dock too.”
I wince at the thought. “Okay, maybe not. But I’m glad that’s over. Thank you for ... you know.”
Nate is back at his usual distance, but he nods as if it were nothing.
And I already want more.
I force the thought away. If I made it on that tiny boat, I’m enjoying this damn island. I’m not thinking about Nate or the fact he doesn’t like to be touched anymore.
“Botanical gardens,” I say as I turn to him. “That’s where we’re going, right?”
“Yes. Our car’s waiting.”
I nod, knowing my delay back on the ship didn’t help our timing, and he leads me to a tiny cab that’s idling. As we take off, I watch the sights. Many of our shipmates are shopping with local vendors or getting on a bus for their tours.
After our experience the day before, I’m glad to not be doing that.
The drive is longer than I expect. We have all day on the island, so I know we have plenty of time, but this is an excursion that would take up all of it. Nate knew that, and he was willing to walk through a garden with me rather than stay on the beach.
And I’ve been worried about what I don’t have with him.
This is why we need to be on the mainland. I can think straight. He’s one of the best friends I have. So what if he doesn’t want to touch me? That’s not a requirement for friendship.
I feel more like myself when we’re dropped off. Not even the sight of the water through the car window is enough to dispel it.
“I call paying!” I announce. Nate loses time because he’s in the middle of saying goodbye to the driver when I run inside.
I slap my card down in front of the poor woman running the ticket counter before he catches up. “Too slow,” I say with a smirk.
“I thought you were still traumatized by the boat. My mistake.”
“I’m on land now. You’ve got your best friend back.”
“I’ll remember that.” He huffs. Once we have our tickets, we enter the gardens.
I didn’t realize how much I missed greenery until it’s in front of me. Everything is lush around us. Palm trees stretch toward the sky and all kinds of island plants sprout from the ground. The air is hot, but there’s plenty of shade.
“Wow,” I say. “This is gorgeous.”
“And so much slower than the beaches,” Nate adds. “I don’t think many of the tourists from the ship are willing to venture this far.”
“So, that was your plan, huh?”
“We’ve been surrounded by people a little too much,” he replies. I can’t disagree with him. I much prefer the sound of birds in the distance to the white noise of the ship.
I’m able to remember Mom wants pictures of all the adventures we’re on, so I make sure to get a few of the new plants and animals around us. The gardens are beautiful, and I know I’ll have plenty to show her. We go over wooden bridges and see massive floral arrangements.