Chapter 5
Steven
It’s only Monday morning and I’m already pissed off. Juliette called out of her shift whinging about a flu, but we all know she closed down The Local. I’m all for having a good time, but not when I’m the one who has to pick up the slack.
This morning’s cleanup dive is weighing heavily on my mind. No matter how much plastic, metal, and fishing line we pull out of the ocean, we never get ahead.
And tensions are escalating with some of the local tour operators. Tourism brings in a lot of money to the islands, but it also results in too many people on the coral reefs, and the damage is felt all across the ecosystem.
I know there are cultural differences, so I try to stay out of the drama, but as we’re heading back to the shop this morning, we see a boat captain dump the tinnies from his last party directly into the sea and I still kind of feel like punching something.
I’m no biologist or hippie, I’m just a guy who wants to raise children someday in a world that still has hawksbill turtles. Sometimes people really suck.
So it’s with more than my usual crabbiness that I push into the employee room and flick on the jug.
After four years at the sanctuary, I avoid the guest-facing classes as much as possible, but when an intern calls out sick, sacrifices have to be made.
At least, that’s what Mike cheerfully reminds me as he hands over the clipboard.
“Two last minute additions, should be fun!” He claps me on the shoulder as I scowl. “Try not to scare them off. Juliette can take over tomorrow if she’s feeling better.”
“Yeah, the mysterious Monday morning flu,” I grumble, stirring my Nescafe until it resembles bitter, brown sludge. I ignore the burn in my throat and neck half the mug of scalding liquid.
“You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” Mike is brave to keep poking the bear before I’ve finished my caffeine.
“Yeah nah, I went home early last night,” I remind him, as if responsibility, not avoidance, had anything to do with my decision.
“Sounds like we both missed out on the fun.”
“Gettin’ old.” I shrug and pour another cup for the road.
Truth is, I hadn’t felt like sticking around to figure out what games Junie was playing.
She kept showing up, running her mouth, but I’d seen the guy she was with.
Was she just trying to spice up her vacation by making him jealous? Is that why she wouldn’t take a hint?
Clipboard in one hand, questionable second cuppa in the other, I push through the door to the pool deck and get the wind knocked out of me.
“Oof,” I groan, coffee flying everywhere.
“Ahh!” A muffled squeak. I look down and see familiar golden hair. Soft hands brace my pecs and I flex involuntarily. “Holy shit, are you a brick wall?”
I snort, throw the clipboard onto a nearby lounger, and step out of her orbit. She looks up at me with big brown eyes and sinks her teeth into her bottom lip. I keep my eyes focused there and not on the polka dot bikini or the giant bow between her breasts. Jesus Christ.
“We meet again. I’m sorry about your coffee. Can I get you another one?”
“No worries.” I frown down at my empty cup then place it onto the lounger as well. I could’ve used that caffeine to deal with this. “Can I help you?”
Junie turns to her friend who is clearly fighting back a laugh. She raises her eyebrows and shrugs. “We’re here for Juliette’s scuba class.”
I look down at the clipboard and rub my temples with both hands—the beginnings of a migraine forming. Sure enough, Junie Crawford and Eva Fletcher are the last minute additions in Mike’s blocky script.
“Great. We’re just waiting on two others then. Why don’t you go have a—”
“Yoohoo! Is this the dive school? We’re Nick and Nancy, so pleased to meet y’all.
” An older woman with a shock of white hair races over and shakes everyone’s hand.
She and her husband have dive manuals tucked under their arms and impossibly wide smiles.
Americans, all of them. “Nick and I have always wanted to try scuba diving. We read these cover to cover last night.”
From the look Junie and Eva share, it’s clear they haven’t done any studying at all.
“We just heard about the course last night, but we’re quick learners. I’m Eva.”
“Junie.”
They all turn to me with expectant smiles and I sigh, resigning myself to the next eight hours of chattiness. “I’m Steven. Let’s get in the water.”
Nick and Nancy cheer which makes Eva crack a smile as they charge into the pool. I tug my shirt off and prepare to join them, but a small hand on my bicep pulls me back. Her fingers are like static electricity. Her lips purse, refusing to give me even a moment’s peace.
“I thought Juliette was teaching this class,” she whispers furiously.
“Change of plans.” She’s so close, I could pick her up and launch her into the pool. The thought seems to clear some of my headache. I almost even crack a smile. “Your boyfriend won’t get mad?”
Her jaw hangs open and her eyes blaze. I smirk and march into the pool, leaving her there. The moment my head sinks under the water, my blood pressure drops. This is my therapy. This is my meditation.
The universe is testing me—Junie is everything I want in a woman, and she’s even wrapped up in a pretty little bow this morning. She obviously didn’t expect me to be teaching the class, so I know she’s not stalking me. There’s no point in getting pissed.
The quicker we get through the basics, the sooner I’d get everyone under the water where we won’t have to talk.
When I surface, the girls are whispering, but they’ve clearly decided to stay. They could be relaxing at the swim-up bar of their resort with the assholes from last night, but they’re choosing to spend the day in dive school. I guess I’d better make it worth their while.
“Welcome to the first day of the coolest experience of your life.”
We spend the morning going over the fundamentals of breathing underwater. As much as teaching newbies annoys me, well-trained divers means safer reefs, so I take my job seriously and I have high standards.
We fly through the educational bits, and I get them all fitted in wetsuits, masks, and fins. I find it easier to focus when she’s covered up.
I’ve done my best to ignore the bubbly blonde bouncing around the pool, speaking only when spoken to, but it’s harder than I expected.
Though their enthusiasm grates my ears, Junie and her friend are quick learners who ask insightful questions, and they get along with Nick and Nancy “like a house on fire”.
I keep having to raise my voice over the sound of their fun and I’m hoarse with the strain.
As the four of them swim laps, mercifully quiet for once, I sit on the side and watch them go. The swim test is 200m followed by ten minutes of treading water and it usually only weeds out people who can’t swim at all—but it’s tiring.
I’m enjoying the silence, the harsh sun drying my skin, but beneath my sunnies, my gaze keeps getting dragged back to those polka dots.
Even if I hadn’t sworn off random hookups, students are always off limits.
There is nothing between us. There could be nothing between us.
So I need to stop staring at her form. Need to restrain the intrusive thoughts of unwrapping her togs like a gift.
I should’ve left them in their wetsuits.
“When your eight laps are up, you can start treading water.” I start the stopwatch in my hand.
“You’re a cruel taskmaster,” Nick groans. He isn’t the strongest swimmer, but I have no doubt he can pull it off.
“Nonsense, we’ve got this!” Junie beams. She’s hardly broken a sweat.
That’s my girl, The thought is automatic, but I recoil from it. Junie isn’t my anything.
When the ten minutes are up, it’s time for our lunch break. I tell everyone to meet me back at the pool in an hour and I try to duck through the employee door to unwind alone, but I’m not fast enough to avoid her.
“Hey, I owe you a coffee. How do you take it?” That smile probably works on everyone. Traffic cops, bill collectors, muggers—she probably melts them all into a puddle of agreeable goo. I’m only a man. I relent and follow her toward the small spread we set up for students.
“Just black.” I cross my arms over my chest, realize how tight and uncomfortable I must look, and let them hang loosely at my sides.
“Of course.” She raises her eyebrows but turns to make my drink. “Is it this stuff? Is this coffee?” she asks, holding up the jar of instant Nescafe.
“Yep.” Nick and Nancy are chatting up a storm with Eva nearby. It makes me feel dumb and monosyllabic, and even more desperate to escape to the quiet.
“Is that why you’re such a curmudgeon?”
I snort, instantly losing the stiffness in my shoulders. “What? Who says curmudgeon?”
“If you’re being held hostage, blink twice.”
“It’s just coffee.” I roll my eyes and reach for the cup. Our fingers brush as I take it from her, a scowl pulling at my lips.
“You live on a tropical island bursting with flavor. You could be drinking pineapple juice every day. Mango. Dragonfruit. Coconut. And you’re choosing mugs of black despair? Isn’t there a locally famous coffee?”
“Kopi luwak? The coffee made from civet shit?” I ask, eyebrow raised.
“Okay, maybe not that one.” Her scrunched face of disgust is disturbingly cute. I have to say something to prove I’m not an uncultured caveman.
“I drink local beer.” I blurt, and her eyes flick down toward my abs like she finds that hard to believe. I swear she licks her lips.
“It’s none of my business.” She shrugs and steps away. “But I also won’t be asking you for a lunch recommendation, no offense.”
As she catches up with the group, Eva looks back at me with a knowing smirk that makes my face grow hot. There’s no way I’d want to be trapped at lunch with Nick and Nancy for an hour. I’m glad to see the back of them and enjoy this hour of peace and quiet alone.
I stomp off to the employee room, making such a racket that Victoria flies from the room like her arse is on fire. I take a sip of the coffee Junie made.
She’s right; it tastes like shit. But I drink every drop.