Chapter 11
Steven
The moment I see her, my dick is back at attention, pushing against my pants almost painfully. What the fuck is she doing here? I’m going to kill Mike.
To save us both from a huge clusterfuck of embarrassment, I bolt from the room. When she shouts, “I’ll see you around!” I duck my head and swing my arms at my sides to escape faster.
I know that fucker can’t be far away. He’s like me, obsessed with the place. Our lives revolve around these turtles and these reefs. So why is he so determined to pollute my mental waters with this chick?
“Mike!” I shout, finally seeing the back of his dark head out on the dive boat, elbow-deep in a crate of masks and snorkels.
“Steven!” He waves with a grin. “Why aren’t you enjoying your day off at home?”
The smug son of a bitch doesn’t look the least bit guilty. “I saw Junie,” I say, wasting no time on catching my breath.
“Oh, yeah! She’s been a huge help already. We finally have someone to work on our social media presence.”
“Since when have you ever gave a fuck about social media presence?” I demand, clutching a stitch in my side. Fuck’s sake, why am I so winded?
“We need tourists. We need volunteers. We need money. She thinks she can find that for us. I care about that.” He shrugs and bends over to straighten some equipment.
He’s right about that. I finally let my body relax, taking deep breaths as I assess the situation logically—something much easier to do when I can’t smell her soft skin or see the light bouncing off her hair.
“Yeah,” I concede. “Those things would be nice.”
“Not everything is about you, mate,” he teases.
“Fuck, so she’s here for a month?” I ask, shading my eyes as I look out over the crystal blue. Longboats crisscross between the islands, dipping between the ferries shuttling tourists across the water. The green silhouette of Mt. Agung is wreathed with clouds.
“Mmm,” he agrees, as if he has no interest in that detail at all. “Much longer than one night, huh?”
My chest constricts. What did I say earlier? That I might’ve pursued her if she were here longer?
“Mike, if I don’t fuck clients, I definitely can’t fuck volunteers. That’s worse!”
He looks at me with eyebrows raised. “As you pointed out, there’s no rule about it. No one on the island cares.”
“But—” I choke. “I can’t just—”
Mike untangles a few more regulator hoses and pretends as if this is the most uninteresting conversation in the world, but I swear he’s holding back a shit-eating grin.
“And all that shit about Victoria? Was any of that even real?”
“She’s a great girl.” His eyes sparkle at the mention of her name. “But you do what you want. I wouldn’t want to get involved and drag you anywhere against your will.”
A whirlpool of emotions are roiling in my chest. How am I going to get any work done with that woman around?
I can’t think straight around her. My body goes into overdrive.
It was fine to fantasize about her when she was gone, untouchable, but now that I’ve given in to my private lust for her, it’s like letting a genie out of a bottle. There’s no going back.
I’m well and truly fucked.
“I’m going home,” I blurt, practically stomping my foot in a little bitch tantrum.
“Enjoy your day off!” Mike waves with a big smile.
I march off toward my villa like I have something to be rightfully pissed about.
The palm trees sway in the breeze and some kids kick a ball around at the warung near my place.
The small, family-owned shop has the best nasi campur on the island.
The owner, a woman named Indah, always heaps my plate with food.
I’m determined to be in a bad mood, but it’s hard to stay worked up with the sand between my toes and the smell of roasting meats in the air.
Junie is here to stay and I’ll have to get used to it.
She didn’t strike me as the type to spend a month of her precious life on a pretty remote island.
It’s so small you could walk around the entire thing in less than an hour.
Our wifi is slow on a good day and you have to take a boat to the nearest ATM or supermarket.
The resorts are great if you can afford them, but the volunteer dorms don’t exactly have all the comforts of home.
Either she’ll be completely miserable, or she’s made of tougher stuff than I assumed.
I avoid her the next morning. It’s too soon for her to be on the dive schedule so I hurry to the boat like I have something to hide.
Today’s dive is mainly to track the progress of an artificial reef we sank a few months back.
Most people have heard of the underwater sculpture by Jason deCaires Taylor.
He submerged 48 life-size figures off the coast of Gili Meno to protest the loss of our coral reefs.
The sculpture is supposed to grow soft corals and sponges, but its popularity has prevented it from taking off.
Our smaller, less exciting projects have begun to show some real promise.
I lose myself in the work, organizing both of the day’s dives, assigning buddies and sections of the sea floor to map.
Mason and I sweep the west side of the dive site while Mike and Juliette take the right.
We keep independent logs and compare our data when we get back on the boat.
I tend to underestimate the progress we’re making.
With the rate that our ocean life is declining, it never feels like we’re doing enough.
Sometimes I worry that I’m doomed to spend the rest of my life on this island, fighting a losing battle against time, climate change, and ecological destruction.
Shit, am I morbid? After we complete both dives, I feel that familiar drop in dopamine as I sit on the boat and stare into space.
The world beneath the ocean seems so much more lively and organized than the one up here.
I feel most alive when I can hear my breaths bubbling toward the surface, or get lost in a solid wall of striped sergeant major fish.
The food chain under the sea seems so intuitive—not filled with nuance and projection like human relationships.
We only saw a handful of green turtles and even fewer hawksbills. I feel their absence like a physical pain. I’ve given up everything to save the turtles, and I’m failing even at that.
Everything is slipping away.
“Did you see Junie’s posts today? They’re actually getting some reactions.” Her name shakes me out of my stupor; I can’t help the way my body responds, and I lean in despite myself to hear Mason and Juliette’s conversation.
“Oui, she asked me to be in a video tomorrow. It sounds very good.”
“Should I ask if she wants to come to The Local later?”
“Of course! I am so glad she stayed. She is the best darts partner. We always win together.”
The words do something strange to my chest. I am so glad she stayed.
I’ve been twisting myself into knots because she had to go, and now I’m doing the same thing when I find out she doesn’t.
I know it can’t have anything to do with me—I’ve acted like a Neanderthal since the moment we met—but she doesn’t seem to mind.
She’s still friendly. Still reaching out to me.
She must have a kink for emotionally stunted giants.
Thinking about her kinks nearly sets me off again.
I’m stuck with her for a month. The thin shred of dignity that insists I’ve turned over a new leaf isn’t going to be enough.
I can’t keep avoiding her or the powerful feelings that take over me whenever she’s near.
Mike knew exactly what he was doing when he tricked me into justifying his relationship with a younger volunteer.
So she won’t want to get married and move to the island and have heaps of cute little babies with me. It could be more than a one night stand now. We could really get to know each other, enjoy a few intimate weeks, then part on good terms like mature adults.
We could take our time. Really savor every moment of it. And if she’s not interested, I’m a grown man. I can control myself around a woman better than grunting at her and running away.
I won’t push it. But if she comes to me again, it could be an option on the table. I shouldn’t see everything so black or white. Maybe we can exist in the gray for a while. Or the clear, deep blue.