Chapter 8
RAFE
G eorge probably thought I’d lost my mind.
His opinion of me couldn’t get any lower, so what did I care?
After I’d stolen chef Lisette’s entire stash of dried sage (not ideal but better than nothing) and cleansed each level of the ship, Charlie announced that the tender was fixed. Coincidence? I think not.
But I didn’t feel like heading to a beach anymore. With Decker laid up, and the other models freaked out, I didn’t see any sense in working for the next few hours. I got several good shots in this morning before the injury, so that would do for now.
Instead, I headed for the storage locker on the lower deck and grabbed my scuba gear.
I’d recently got my certification and, next to my work, diving was my biggest passion.
The beauty and quiet in the depths of the ocean helped to calm that part of me that was always spinning, running, hyperactive times ten.
I’d tried medications, meditations, and even sex to release all the pent-up energy inside me.
I didn’t realize until a few years ago, that my condition had a name.
Once I’d been formally diagnosed with ADHD, I was on a mission to figure out how to live my best life.
It took a while until I found a med that enabled me to focus without disrupting my creative drive.
A greater sense of calm gave me the ability to focus.
I embraced exercise, including swimming and diving.
I found that being in the water, weightless and free, I experienced an internal peace I’d never known. It was love at first dive.
Diving alone, however, was not something I was comfortable with. After I meticulously checked my gear, I waved Charlie over.
“You feel like going with me for a dive? I need a partner.”
“Ahh,” Charlie replied, running a hand through his thick hair. “I can’t do that.”
“You’re not certified?” I asked, surprised.
Charlie vigorously shook his head. His dark eyes swirled with a panic I recognized.
“Did you have a bad experience?”
“Yeah, something like that.” He nodded, and I noticed the dark flush in his cheeks. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m a good swimmer and I love the water, but diving just isn’t my thing. I’m more of a surfing kind of guy.”
“No worries. Can one of the other deck crew go with me?”
Charlie grimaced and my stomach dropped. I knew exactly what he was about to say.
“No one else is certified?”
“I didn’t say that…” Charlie let out a nervous laugh.
I knew right then what he wasn’t saying.
“Are you joking? George is the only one on board who’s qualified to dive?” I blurted out.
“On this charter, yup.”
“Oh God, I don’t think the sage worked,” I sighed and began to pace the deck.
“Sage?”
“Never mind. Are you going to give him the bad news, or should I?”
“I’ll tell him,” Charlie offered. “You wait here.”
“I’ll get suited up. Thanks, Charlie.”
It had been over two months since I’d gone for a dive near Key West, so I checked my wetsuit carefully before I zipped up. Crouching down on my knees, I took my time going through my gear.
Ten minutes later, a familiar figure loomed over me.
“You look like you know what you’re doing,” George announced.
“I don’t look, I know. And probably more than you,” I responded tartly.
Here we go again.
“I doubt it. I’ve got fourteen years more experience than you.”
I rolled my eyes. His attempt to throw our age difference in my face was laughable. I was a skilled diver and confident as fuck.
“Are you going to stand there staring down at me or are we going to get in the water?”
George walked over to the gear wall, plucked a wetsuit from the hanger, and began to strip.
He didn’t have any hesitation undressing in front of me, and I certainly had no problem watching.
Until he pulled off his shirt, and his broad, hairy chest came into view.
My weakness. I loved a furry man. He was fit as fuck, with bulging pecs and biceps that made my mouth water.
My pulse spiked as I watched his hands moving lower, grasping his belt and undoing it in sure, careful movements.
When he finally pushed his navy shorts down, he revealed a tiny red speedo that barely contained his dick, not to mention his balls.
My heart nearly kicked out of my chest, and I quickly turned away.
Getting a boner in a skin-tight wetsuit was a bad idea. Getting a boner for this man was worse.
“And before you ask,” I yelled out over my shoulder. “I double checked all my gear. I know you think I’m a silly twit, but I take my diving seriously.”
I pulled on my flippers and then my tanks, making sure the straps were comfortable but secure.
“I don’t think you’re a twit,” George said as he stood behind me, so close I felt his body heat enveloping me. “You’re fun and outgoing. Perhaps a bit careless, but well intentioned.”
I rounded on him, furious.
“Careless? Why? Tell me, George. Because you and I haven’t had any real conversations—outside of bickering or polite chit chat—and you don’t know me at all.
And I won’t be insulted. I haven’t depended on anyone but myself since I was eighteen years old.
I’ve gone back to school, I started a business. So tell me, how am I careless?”
“I…you…” George stammered and looked away, zipping up his suit. “Let’s forget I said anything.”
I shook my head. “No. I want an explanation. Because down there,” I pointed to the water, “we have to trust each other.”
George paced in front of me. “I just meant that sometimes you act flippant about things. But I can tell by the way you handle the equipment that you know what you’re doing. I’m sorry. Can we let this go?”
I stared at him as he finally stopped moving. I nodded despite my desire to continue the conversation. It was always one step forward and two steps back with George, and I was tired of dancing. And feeling like a fool for trying to bridge the gap between us.
“How about we suspend our negative judgement of each other for a bit, all right?” I grabbed my goggles and put them on.
George checked his tanks and finished getting ready. Sliding up to the railing, I hopped up, inserted my mouthpiece, and waited until he gave me the okay signal. Once he did, I leaned back and let gravity do its thing.
Plunging into the warm water, I swam a few meters and waited until I saw George follow me. As he swam closer, the only detail I could make out clearly was his eyes. Soundless, we stared at each other for what felt like an eternity.
There was an innate intimacy when it came to diving. We could only rely on the other.
I balled my fist and pointed my thumb down to let him know I was good to start descending, and he signaled back that he was okay.
Finally, we understood each other.
GEORGE
I didn’t believe in mermen, but Rafe could’ve easily passed as one.
He was a natural in the water, moving swiftly and skillfully. He understood the diving signals and protocol and was careful not to venture too far from me. His expertise gave me assurance.
Too bad our earlier conversation left me uneasy, shame flooding my body.
Why did I always end up insulting him? I managed a crew of a dozen people, treating everyone with respect.
I took pride in my ability to broker difficult conversations and resolve conflict. And yet with Rafe, I kept fucking up.
If I was being honest, a part of me wanted to maintain the distance between us. I just didn’t know why.
My guilty conscience took temporary leave as we swam, and I let the beauty of the underwater world capture my full attention. We swam away from the ship until a large bank of coral came into view.
Lacy and delicate, the sheer volume and colors—bright pinks, scarlet, and orange—were mesmerizing.
Prawns, sea slugs, and tiny fish flittered in and around their tropical home.
Efforts to protect and preserve the barrier reefs over the past decade had been successful given how healthy the coral looked, but there was still much more to be done.
I noticed a school of sand sharks nearby and signaled for Rafe to look over.
They were usually harmless to humans (unless provoked) and beautiful to watch, gliding in and around each other like a frantic ballet.
I turned in the other direction and noticed the large school of redfish, likely the shark’s target.
We continued to swim alongside the reef until we came upon a shipwreck stuck in the sand, a sailboat with a broken mast. Part of the hull had cracked open, likely battered by a fierce wave or the result of a crash against a rocky embankment.
Much like the coral, the boat was now part of the ocean bed, home to sea life that grew all over it.
Rafe and I swam closer to take a better look, careful not to disturb anything. After we swam around it, he signaled that he was ready to start heading back up.
I turned my body to move, but my right leg wouldn’t budge.
Looking down, I noticed that my flipper had snagged on the ragged edge of the hull.
I swiveled my ankle to dislodge it, but it wouldn’t budge.
I grabbed my ankle and pulled but I was stuck.
The sharp edge of panic slammed into me until Rafe drew closer and grasped my hand.
With more hand gestures, he reminded me to stay calm as he bent down and gently took hold of my foot.
Ten seconds later—it felt like ten minutes—I was free.
He squeezed my hand again and I gave him the okay signal.
I was rattled and now the only thing I wanted was to head back to the boat.
But rising too fast in the water, with the change of pressure, was dangerous.
As if sensing my fear, Rafe held onto my hand as we slowly made our way back around the coral again.
I signaled I was okay with my other hand, and he winked.
The tension in my chest eased. We swam past a school of scuttle fish and a few minutes later, I spotted the anchor and familiar hull of Now, Voyager.
Slowly, we made our way up to the surface and as the water grew lighter, my heart rate finally eased. Poking our heads above the surface of the water, I ripped my hand away, tore my goggles off and removed my mouthpiece. Treading water, I leaned my head back for a moment and took big gulps of air.
“You all right?” Rafe asked as he bobbed in front of me.
I glanced at him, his wet hair hanging in long ropes past his shoulders, his blue eyes filled with concern. I blinked, wondering for a moment if he was real or a sea nymph come to save me.
I nodded in response, unsure if I really was okay or having some sort of episode. It was probably the remaining anxiety filtering through my system. He gripped my shoulder tightly. “Everything’s okay.”
Was it?
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“No worries. What’s a partner for?” He motioned at the ship. “Come on, let’s get back on board.”
Suddenly he let go, leaving me untethered in the ocean.
I didn’t like the feeling at all.