Chapter 23
Charlie
Light filters into the room, blinding me, before darkness quickly returns.
I’ve tried to sleep, but the bed is cold and empty without Mateo, who volunteered to watch the video with Vivian when I could barely lift my head after nine p.m. He sent me to the room, and I’ve been wide awake ever since, waiting for him to return.
I don’t know what it says about me that it’s harder to sleep without him beside me, but I’m choosing to ignore it.
Mateo tiptoes around the room, getting ready for bed, and I rustle so I don’t scare him.
His five-o’clock shadow is growing into a small beard, and he yawns deeply before saying, “I thought you were asleep.”
I shake my head, lifting the covers for him to slide in beside me.
There’s no pillow wall tonight, hasn’t been since he held me until I fell asleep, but we’ve kept to our sides of the bed.
Mateo wordlessly puts on his mask and burrows into the covers. When he rests his arm behind his head, leaving the side of his body open, I make the impulsive decision to scoot closer and lean my head on his chest below the crook of his arm.
He sighs, and my heart races with the small act of intimacy. I grow bolder, draping my arm over his chest so my body molds against his side. His free hand lifts to cover mine, to keep it firmly planted on his chest.
Sleep slowly drags me under until I hear the sound of his mask unclick and the pressurized air whoosh.
“Go on a date with me,” he whispers.
“What?”
“Tomorrow night, will you go on a date with me?”
“Okay,” I murmur against his skin, right before I fall into a deep slumber.
Vivian and Sofía chat in the lounge, paperwork spread out between them, and I creep toward the table, hoping I’m not interrupting.
“Hi.”
Ugh. That came out way meeker than I wanted. I was aiming for cool and casual, not flustered and ready to flee.
“Charlie, hi!” Sofía smiles brightly, clearing the table. “Please, sit.”
I slide into the seat, and I’m panicked again. Nerves eat at my confidence, and I pick at the cornflower-blue nail polish I put on this morning. Asking Vivian and Sofía for help means admitting there’s something happening between Mateo and me, and that makes it real.
“Sofía and I were going over the plan for the remaining ROV dives. We’ve had pretty good luck at these sites previously.” Vivian points to a handful of areas on a map. “Is there anything you hope to see? I can try to adjust them for you.”
“A whale fall, but that’s unlikely.”
Vivian surveys the map, her brow furrowed in concentration.
“I can’t make any promises, but this area”—she circles the map—“has had remains of whale falls on previous cruises. We can try.”
“Thank you.” I volley between Sofía and Vivian, then take a deep, calming breath. “I was hoping…well, I was thinking maybe…”
Fuck, I can’t get a freaking sentence out without stumbling over myself.
I groan, dropping my head into my hands.
“Never mind, sorry.”
I rise from the table to handle my embarrassment in private, but Sofía grabs my arm and drags me back into the seat.
“Does this have something to do with Mateo bribing me for a bottle of wine and a special meal from the chef?”
“What?”
A special meal?
He refused to tell me what he had planned this morning, only told me to meet him at seven on the top deck. Needless to say, I’m freaking the fuck out. I can’t recall the last time I’ve had the anticipatory fluttering in my chest before a date.
“About half an hour ago, Mateo showed up with some requests,” Vivian says, her eyebrows rising and falling suggestively.
“More like demands,” Sofía mumbles. “Are you here about the same thing?”
“Uh…maybe?”
Sofía squeals, clapping her hands together, and Vivian cheers. My jaw falls as they celebrate before giving me their attention.
“I was telling Amber about the odd sexual tension between you two,” Vivian admits. “We’ve been rooting for this. Sofía caved immediately and gave Mateo everything he wanted when he said he was trying to impress you.”
I can’t stop the heat creeping up my neck or the girlish smile tugging at my lips.
Another round of squeals echoes around the table, and they both discard the paperwork to lean in close.
“So what do you need?” Vivian asks.
“You want it, you got it,” Sofía adds.
“Well, I was hoping maybe you guys could help with my hair…and maybe a little makeup?” I look at Vivian, whose eyelids are a bright pink, covered in iridescent sparkles.
The two exchange a look.
“My cabin. Five p.m.,” Vivian says with a manic expression that sends a wave of apprehension through my body.
Tonight, I’m going on a date, and I’m really, really excited.
The cool sea breeze whips through the loose curls Sofía spent the last hour perfecting, then dousing in hair spray.
Nerves eat at my stomach, but I refrain from touching my face in fear I’ll mess up Vivian’s makeup.
I’ve never worn this much before, and when I looked in the mirror, I almost didn’t recognize myself.
I smooth out the sundress Sofía let me borrow, cream with small pink flowers and a milkmaid cut. My chest and arms are bare, but with the pink shawl Vivian lent me, I’m able to ward off any chill.
Music filters from the top deck, and as I take the last stair, I stop in my tracks. A large blanket is laid out on the ground, covered with pillows. White wine and the bag of chocolate sits in the corner beside two covered plates .
Mateo stands in the center of it all; his linen button-down flows with the wind, and the khakis fit snugly against his thighs. The coffee-hued waves of his hair are in pristine condition, as usual, and his hand flexes at his side.
“Hi, bruja,” he purrs, reaching out a hand. I place mine in his, and he pulls me against his chest. “You look beautiful.”
I’m mute as he guides me to a spot, helps me sit with my dress, and drapes a blanket over my lap.
I’ve officially lost function of my tongue, and I fiddle with the fire opal dangling around my neck to dissipate a sliver of the nerves.
We’re here, which means we’re moving in a new direction, and I want that—I told him as much. But it still frightens me because there’s an energy hanging in the air, one that suggests who I am tomorrow won’t be the same person I am today.
He’s smiling at me, and it’s the goofy, lopsided grin that settles a bit of the riot in my chest.
“Hi.”
Ah, good . I can still form words. Full sentences? Not quite, but I’ve got a greeting down.
He’s still staring at me, radiating happiness, and warmth blooms in my chest right beneath my diaphragm.
“Your hair is perfect,” I blurt out, overwhelmed by the depth of my affection for him, how wonderfully his shirt pulls against his broad shoulders, and the romantic energy buzzing in the air.
I slap my palm against my forehead. Neptune, I sound like a doofus.
Mateo laughs deeply. “Thank you.”
“Don’t let the compliment go to your head,” I grumble, embarrassed by my awkwardness, but also blown away by him .
“How could I? If I did, it might ruin my perfect hair .”
“I’m gonna go.” I throw a thumb over my shoulder. “If you need me, I’ll be floating in the ocean. ”
I push to my knees, but Mateo rips me back down to the blanket, his chest rumbling with laughter.
“If you go overboard, I’d have to follow you, and our pasta would get cold.”
“You’d follow me?” I ask, hung up on the statement.
“I’d follow you anywhere, Charlie.”
Any response I have falls short, but he doesn’t seem to notice as he uncovers the plates, placing one in front of me. The aroma of basil and parmesan fills the air, and a perfectly grilled cut of chicken sits atop a bed of cavatappi pasta.
It’s my favorite meal. Down to the shape of the noodle.
He knows my favorite food, but I don’t know his, and the lack of that knowledge settles like a rock in my gut.
“What’s your favorite meal?”
“Pizza. Doesn’t matter the toppings,” he responds, “but if my abuela asks, it’s her barbacoa.”
I immediately store the fact, locking it away into a mental box.
He digs in, while I slowly pick at the noodles, too nauseous to enjoy them.
How much has he learned about me in the two years we’ve known each other? How little do I know about him?
“Is your food cold?”
It’s fucking delicious, but my stomach is already doing somersaults, and if I eat all the food, I fear I may vomit.
“I’m too jittery to eat,” I admit, smoothing out my dress.
He lifts a brow, a silent demand for an explanation, and in the spirit of honesty and showing Mateo he’s worth the effort, I offer him an uncomfortable truth.
“I haven’t been on a decent date since before my accident, and you know far more about me than I know about you, and I feel bad about that, and you look really good. I’m flustered.”
My cheeks flame as his smile grows into something magnificent—as glorious as the final rays of a sunset .
He sets our plates to the side, patting the empty spot between his legs. I crawl over the blanket to settle into the space and lean back, using his chest as a pillow and burrowing into the warmth he offers.
“What do you want to know?” he asks, his breath hot against my shoulder.
“Everything,” I admit.
I want to know every detail about Mateo, down to his sock preference. What he loves, what he hates, his fears and dreams. I want to know everything .
His fingers tangle in my hair, brushing through the loose curls, before pulling my head to the side and placing a tender kiss on my lips.
There’s no rush to it; instead, it’s an exploration, slow and unsure.
When we break apart, my head is spinning.
“All right, bruja. I’ll tell you everything, as long as you offer me the same.”
“Deal.” I place my hand on his thigh, right where the butterfly tattoo hides beneath his pants. “How many tattoos do you have, and what do they all mean?”
The question is rushed. I’ve wanted to know since he revealed the ink, but there hasn’t been a good time to ask.
Covering my hand with his, he huffs a laugh, and it skitters along my spine.
“My family is from a small town in Central Mexico. It’s where my grandparents were born, and it’s close to the area where the monarch butterflies congregate in the winter.
My abuelo loved them and would spend hours talking about how they covered the trees and filled the air.
I got the butterfly for him after he passed away. ”
I slip my hand out and move up his thigh to where I think the rest of his ink hides .
“And the one here? What about this one?”
My hand is inches away from his zipper, and I’m not oblivious to how he hardens, pressing against my back.
“Been checking me out?”
I swat his thigh, and his laughter worsens.
“It’s a quote from a poem I love. Those are my only two.”
“What are your favorite things?”
“You want to know them all?”
I nod, and he lists things he enjoys. Soccer. Crossword puzzles. Watermelon-flavored Chupa Chups. He talks and talks, and I listen, hanging off every word, memorizing every fact and story he shares. I’m greedy—a pirate hoarding its bounty.
He shares stories of his adventures with Oliver in Europe after they graduated from the University of Miami, and how he could live the rest of his life without ever stepping into another hostel.
“Oliver’s your best friend?”
His arms tighten around my shoulders. “Wouldn’t know what to do without him. He moved back to London right before I moved to Rhode Island. We don’t see each other as much as I’d like.”
“He and Amy are sleeping together,” I admit, not sure if he knows our best friends are keeping each other company.
“I know.” He sighs deeply, like the information hurts him. “He’s fond of her, but his obligations are complicated, and his family’s expectations are high.”
“What?”
“Oliver will never be able to follow his heart, not the way Amy follows hers.” His words linger between us, and a sadness washes over me for our friends. Mateo recognizes the energy shift and places a soft kiss on my temple. “They’ll be okay,” he assures me.
Bright white stars speckle the deep navy-blue sky. It’s shocking how clear the view is at sea. No light pollution to block the constellations or dull the glow of the moon. Out here, the universe feels expansive, never-ending, infinite, compared to my tiny world in Rhode Island.
Mateo holds me in his arms as we look up at the endless sky.
It would be daunting—how irrelevant we are in the scheme of the universe—if it wasn’t for the way he holds me, grounding me to earth.
“Is it a full moon tonight?” I ask.
“Why?” His breath is hot against my shoulder. “Did you want to try to curse me again?”
I smack his bicep. “I only did it that one time , but no, if it’s a full moon I can charge my crystals.”
“Did you want to go get them? You could show me how to do it.”
“Really?” I perk up.
He chuckles, swiping my hair over one shoulder and placing a gentle kiss on the other.
“Teach me how to be a witch,” he murmurs against my skin.
Before he can change his mind, I fly across the deck toward our room. “You would be a warlock,” I correct, disappearing to gather my collection.
It’s only when I return and his face brightens as I sit beside him do I realize the nerves are gone, replaced with giddy excitement.