Stranded by the Shipwreck

Chapter One

Jules

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

I watch in disbelief as my ex, Darren, strolls onto the yacht with Mathieu, the French student.

He transferred into my Arts group for our final year and has the most perfect curly blond hair and soulful dark eyes.

My then-boyfriend had admired Mathieu any time they crossed paths.

I didn’t get mad because I’m pretty sure I was more attracted to Mathieu than him, so I couldn’t throw stones in that scenario.

This scenario, however?

Beyond our yacht, the Thai pier is coming to life, spaces filled with pleasure yachts like the one I’m standing on, service boats, and local fishing vessels. It’s early morning, but the sun is already beating down hot on the back of my neck.

My friend Seán looks up from the deck. “What?” He’s crouched down, coiling rope. Safety something. He graduated the year ahead of us, and I booked with his new touring company for a private holiday to celebrate the end of our exams.

“Darren’s here.”

“Yeah? You knew he was coming.”

“Not with someone.”

Seán peers towards the cabin as Darren and Mathieu duck inside with their bags. “How do you know they’re together?”

“Because I do.” I would have to have been an idiot not to see how Darren laughed in delight at anything out of Mathieu’s mouth.

All the while growing increasingly irritated with me, no matter what I did.

Apparently, being optimistic or trying to look on the brighter side of things was fake and tiresome.

As if Mathieu wasn’t a certified ray of sunshine.

“Whatever. It’s not like he’s an angel, is it?

And—what on earth is that?” I stare in horror at the old man who has just come up from the maintenance doorway leading below deck.

He’s wearing the bright orange uniform of Seán’s company, but that’s not what has me reeling towards my friend.

“You said your assistant for the trip was going to be your hot cousin?”

“I did not call my cousin hot.”

“But you did say he was coming,” I groan. “I have to watch my ex flirt with Mathieu, and I don’t get to check out your cousin?”

Seán’s nose scrunches as his eyes slide past me. I follow his gaze over my shoulder, expecting to see an offended, doddery old man. Instead, I see a broad chest. I have to tip my head back to find a face.

Hot cousin.

Grey eyes, bright as a storm. A wonderfully shaped mouth. Dark, wavy hair, currently tucked under a white baseball cap. His forearms are covered in ink, all the way up to his short shirt sleeves. Every time we’ve met, I’ve wondered how far the ink goes. I wonder the same now.

“Jules,” he greets.

“Cillian.”

“Hot cousin, if you like.”

I shut my eyes and rock back on my heels. Kill me now. “I meant it in a respectful, non-objectifying way.”

I’ve never even talked to Cillian beyond simple greetings. I met him a few times and was so horrendously attracted to the man that I refused to engage in small talk. I was in a relationship, and talking to someone so physically attractive felt…I don’t know. Iffy.

“I see.”

“Excuse me, I’m going to go throw myself overboard.

” I leave them sorting the equipment. Following after me is a deep chuckle that warms my neck.

I’m fanning my shirt as I duck into the main cabin and stumble into Darren and Mathieu.

They’re setting their bags down next to mine against one of the walls.

Voices drift through the open door leading to the back of the boat.

“Jules?” Darren sounds surprised. “I thought—didn’t you say—I thought you weren’t coming?”

Did he not see me when he came aboard? He was that engrossed in Mathieu?

“I booked and planned the entire trip.”

“Yeah, but you mentioned…” Darren trails off and slides his attention back towards Mathieu.

He smiles, all charm. The performance turns my stomach.

“Back in a second.” He takes my elbow, fingers gripping hard enough to sting, and steers me back out on deck, towards Seán and Cillian. I plant my feet.

“What?” I pull my arm from his grip.

“When we broke up, you said you didn’t even want to go on the trip anymore. That it would just be awkward between us if you did,” Darren says.

“You’re the one who said that.”

“You should go. Book a different trip.” He catches sight of my expression and lets out a big sigh. “You’re making things awkward. Everyone here is more my friend than yours, tagging along like this… It’s pathetic, Jules. We’re over.”

“Pathetic? I—what in the—”

“Everyone aboard?” Seán calls.

When we broke up, Darren had a list detailing everything about me that was making him unhappy.

It wasn’t flattering, but I ultimately agreed that our relationship, which had been a solid, happy two years, had spoiled over the last semester of college.

Truthfully, I’d blamed it on many things.

My focus had been on applying for jobs, working out what city had decent accommodation that I could afford, and getting through my exams with honours.

I didn’t really blame Darren, even if I was hurt by his words.

That opinion is rewriting itself.

“Charles and Yasop are my friends from the team, and their girlfriends barely even know you,” Darren continues.

Until our breakup two weeks ago, there had been no divide between our friend groups. I mean, sure, Charles and Yasop play on the Gaelic football team with Darren so they’re more his friends, but—

“Cillian, right?” Darren catches Cillian’s attention as he strides towards the gangplank. “Jules isn’t coming, so don’t pull it in just yet. He’s not feeling well.”

Cillian looks from Darren to me. Our eyes meet. Whatever is in my expression makes him raise his brows. “Looks fine to me.” Cillian knocks the gangplank off the yacht with a firm shove. It lands perfectly in line with the edge of the pier, ready to be used again.

The muscle in Darren’s jaw that warns me when I’m getting on his nerves pulses. “I just said not to do that.”

Cillian turns back around. “If you want to get off, I’ll set it back up.

If Jules wants to get off, he’ll tell me himself.

” Cillian stares down Darren. It’s like Darren accidentally struck a bear with a rod, thinking it was a pile of furs.

Cillian is more filled out than Darren. Broader shoulders, a bigger chest. Even the way he saunters off towards the maintenance door at the front of the yacht exudes power.

A rumble starts in the back, the yacht’s engine roaring to life.

“I don’t think he likes being ordered around,” I say. “And funnily enough, neither do I.”

I leave Darren behind and duck into the cabin.

Everyone is standing around the empty section of floor in the middle, chatting.

Benches line the walls, and two doors lead below deck to bedrooms and a bathroom.

The cockpit is directly above us, and I can hear the thump of footsteps as Seán guides us out of the bay.

“Have you been parasailing before?” Mathieu asks me.

There’s nothing about him to suggest he thinks it’s weird that he’s turned up as a date to a guy who left a relationship two weeks ago, while his ex is also on the trip.

His dark eyes focus fully on me, and warmth flurries in the pit of my stomach. Well, it’s not Mathieu’s fault…

“No. Have you?”

He shakes his head, rustling his perfect hair. “I’m a little nervous.”

“Don’t be,” Darren says warmly as he rejoins us. “Jules is going to be the hapless one anyway.” He laughs. “You should have seen him when we went rock-climbing. Got two feet up the wall and froze.”

The others laugh. That I don’t mind, but there’s something distinctly mean in Darren’s tone.

I smile. “Yes, I was almost as hapless as Darren when we went skiing last winter.” I press my shoulder into Mathieu’s, tilting my head towards him. “The instructor wouldn’t let us off the baby slope all week.”

“Really?” There’s a suggestion of dimples in Mathieu’s cheeks. I struggle to lift my gaze.

“I spent the entire week having little kids zip by me.”

That gets another laugh out of everyone, bar Darren.

There’s a smile in place, but not a nice one.

I reply with a not-so-nice smile of my own.

How’s that for fake and tiresome optimism?

I’ve been too laid-back in this breakup if Darren thinks I’m a pushover.

I’m not one. I’ve been making it on my own since I turned eleven, and I’ve managed to get through university with not only an honours degree—I know I’ve nailed all my exams and assignments—but also with savings from working throughout it all.

“Beers in the fridge, guys.” I nod at Charles and Yasop, who are draped over their girlfriends. There’s a small kitchen, like one might find in a camper van, with each drawer secured with child locks.

I catch Mary’s and Willow’s attention, who are most certainly more my friends than Darren’s.

He hasn’t the faintest idea that Mary has her own successful pottery studio or that Willow is organising the largest screenwriting competition in Ireland this year.

I indicate the low ceiling. “For us, there’s a mixologist. Seán has a well-stocked bar inside that middle island there, and he’ll mix us up cocktails. ”

“Brilliant,” Willow says.

“Sweet!” Mary adds enthusiastically. She has pottery dust smudged all over her shorts and is distractedly trying to wipe it off. “Did anyone pack a wet cloth?”

“You’re on a premium cruise,” Seán says, announcing his presence. He leans against the short doorframe. “That tap isn’t just for show.” Behind him, civilisation is disappearing into the open ocean.

Mary darts to the sink.

“Double brilliant,” Willow says, eyeing the sign for the toilet.

“I sent out the arrangements by email, but I’m going to go through the itinerary with you here. Want to take a seat?”

I sit on the cushioned bench, and Mathieu slides into the spot next to me. Darren sits on his other side. The rest of the group settle, Charles and Yasop side by side, Mary and Willow fussing with her shorts.

“Now you look like you’ve peed yourself,” Willow says.

Mary tosses the cloth away. “I give up.” They slump down together.

“Two minutes in the sun and you’ll be all good,” Seán reassures her. “Now then, plans. Today we’re going straight to Isle Arun, which is a small western island. They’ve got a private resort where we’re going to scuba dive, snorkel and jet ski. We’ve got rooms booked there for the night.”

Yasop raises his hand. “Teacher, my email said something about a nightclub.”

Seán nods at me. “Jules called the nightclub ahead of time and requested they do something special to liven it up for the night.”

“Neon painting night,” I jump in. “Best work of art and artist get free drinks.”

Charles stretches to wrap his arm around Mary. “I’ll be your canvas, just tell me how much skin you want.”

“I’ll be a much better canvas.” Willow also wraps her arms around Mary. “Don’t you think?” She meets Charles’s gaze, a challenging glint in her eye.

Mathieu leans towards me. “You can just call up nightclubs and request events like that?”

“You don’t know if you don’t ask.”

“Wow.” Mathieu chuckles. “You have pretty balls—you are pretty ballsy!” He buries his face in his hands, mumbling something that sounds like the French equivalent of “kill me now”. “English is a terrible, terrible language,” he mutters with a little more coherence.

“I wouldn’t say you’re wrong,” I reply. “But maybe I’m biased since it’s my body.”

Mathieu’s groan cuts off. His hands slide down. “O-oh? In, oh, what would you consider ‘pretty’?” His cheeks flush red.

“Waxed and bleached so they’re pale? That sounds wrong. I mean, I’m pale, so I wanted to match so I…” Mathieu is staring at me with wide, wide eyes. “You asked.”

A laugh poorly disguised as a cough draws my attention the other way. Cillian is on the bench next to me, pursing his lips.

I glare. “Shouldn’t you be driving?”

“Arthur’s got the wheel,” he says, rather huskily. The corners of his eyes are crinkled in amusement.

I’m redder than Mathieu.

Blast this entire trip.

“If I can get everyone’s focus back on me.” Seán pauses to let us end our conversations. I’m grateful for the interruption. When I face forwards, that muscle in Darren’s jaw is fluttering again. Seeing as he’s no longer my boyfriend, I don’t trouble myself with trying to improve his mood.

“Parasailing is tomorrow—afternoon, or later, depending on how everyone’s feeling in the morning—and I’ll go over all the safety checks for that then.

For now, you need to know where the life jackets are.

Take a look around. They’re bright orange, some outside, some inside, and hard to miss.

There are life rings outside. Again, bright orange.

There and there. Our satellite phone is under Jules in a watertight case. Any questions?”

Nobody has any, so I raise my hand. “Teacher, I’d like an espresso martini.”

Seán’s grin is wolfish. “Coming right up.”