Chapter 13
Junie
I spend a few hours with my toes in the sand, drinking fresh fruit juice at The Local and throwing some graphics together on my phone.
Ni Putu, the pretty young bartender, sneaks me small plates of lumpia, a type of Indonesian spring roll, and puffy, addictive prawn crackers whenever she stops by to refill my glass.
I’ve worked in far less savory conditions.
I’m having a nice time, giggling to myself as my content ideas become more silly and over the top.
When I scroll through the giant folder of photos Mike has given me access to, one face jumps out again and again—so I don’t fight it. It’s all just inspiration, for now.
When the gang finally trickles in, I show Mason, Juliette, Victoria, and Thomas some of the things I’ve been working on. The video edit where Steven shakes his hair out in slowmo really makes them laugh.
“Oh my god, these are perfect!”
“Has he seen these yet?” asks Mason, catching his breath.
“Hell no. And these will never see the light of day. They’re just inspo to get the creative juices flowing.
” I scroll quickly past a carousel of images that look like an audition for Baywatch.
Maybe I did go a little overboard. “But maybe we could record a few things like this and make funny posts of the whole crew. Memes and silly, relatable stuff that can drum up interest and boost us in the algorithms before we start advertising to our target audience.”
“Yes! I would follow an account like this. Let me find it.” Victoria whips out her cellphone.
“You don’t already follow the sanctuary?” The boys don’t use social media much, but Victoria is always on her phone.
“Betrayal from within,” mutters Thomas, who contributed the most to the intermittent posting before I arrived.
She shrugs with her characteristic nonchalance, flipping her hair over one shoulder. “Before, they were boring.”
“What’s everyone looking at?” We turn to see Mike, running a hand through his dark hair as he scans the bar for service.
“Just some mockups.” I hastily tuck my phone away. I’m starting to feel like I overstepped with the silly pictures, and I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of the boss—or Steven’s best friend. “We’re going to record the actual content over the next few days.”
“You should be in it too, Mike!” Thomas grins.
“Of course I’ll help!”
I breathe a sigh of relief that he didn’t ask to see my ideas. Ni Putu materializes out of thin air to hand him a beer and he sits down beside us with an exaggerated sigh.
“I posted the schedule for this week. Junie, you’re coming on the clean-up dive tomorrow. It’s always a great time.”
“Awesome!” I grin as everyone takes out their phones to check the group chat. I’m excited to get back in the water again and to put my scuba training to good use.
“You’ll love it.” Juliette turns and slaps me a high-five. “Though we can get a little competitive.”
She wasn’t kidding.
*****
We’re up before the sun rises, creeping around the bunks and dressing in the dark. I can picture a life full of these pre-dawn rituals, scuffling to the dive shop while the tokehs screech, arranging my gear bag, watching the cherry red of the boat crew’s cigarettes burn in the wind.
I set up my equipment while we bob through the waves. Following Mason’s lead, I claim two tanks and attach my BCD to the left one. My hands buckle and tighten straps, moving as if they have a mind of their own. I’m grabbing weights out of the bucket near the aft when a shadow looms over me.
“Take an extra one today. We’re not scouting a huge area and you want to stay near the bottom.”
It’s no “Good morning,” but as far as Steven goes, it’s practically cordial.
“Aye, aye.” I salute and grab an extra pouch.
“You can tuck them in here.” His fingers brush mine as he shows me a pocket on my dive vest I’ve never noticed before.
“Thank you,” I say, pretending like lightning didn’t zap where we touched.
It takes my breath away—how close he is, his presence, his smell.
He towers over me, warm and solid. His long hair is tousled from sleep and his wetsuit is only zipped to his navel, revealing an oiled chest that gleams in the slowly rising sun.
I have no quips or jokes left in me. In my sleepy daze, he is pure, golden sunlight.
He nods and stalks further down the boat, directing people into frenzied order like marching ants. Since it’s my first eco-dive, I try to stay out of the way and enjoy watching him work. When the motor slows to a dull whine, Steven calls today’s divers to the middle table.
We’ll split into three teams with assigned sections. There will be two dives with a break for snacks.
“Plastic bags, crisp wrappers, cellphones, all of it goes.”
“Phones?” I blurt. “How often does that happen?”
His face turns dark as he glowers. “More than you can imagine.”
“That’s one of the competition categories!” Thomas grins. “I’ve been winning that one since I got here.”
“Yeah, yeah. You’re like a magnet for technology devices. But who always pulls the most weight?” Steven counters. My heart stutters at the cocky lilt to his lips. I’ve never seen this side of him.
“You’re just in the water the longest! Your air consumption rates are ridiculous.” Mason pounds a fist on the table.
“Just say I’m the strongest and move on,” he smirks, then focuses his attention on me. “We log everything for the data geeks, but for bragging rights and the occasional shout, you can win for most tech, highest weight, and the day’s weirdest find.”
“What makes it weird?” I ask.
“Bullets,” Juliette says with wide eyes.
“Once I found three moldy doll heads. Just the heads.”
“Sometimes there’s nothing really crazy, so we do it by popular vote.” Mike explains. “Last week it was a flask, but it still had liquor in it.”
“Tell me nobody drank that.” Steven’s eyes flash.
“It was a close call, but someone had the good sense to pour it out before it made its way back to the dorm room.” Mike winks.
“Thank god,” he sighs, then mumbles something about idiot kids that makes me stifle a laugh.
“I’ve taken the liberty of assigning groups.” Mike gestures to a whiteboard and because I’ve absolutely been staring, I notice the ripple of surprise on Steven’s face.
He scans the board and shares a significant look with Mike before clearing his throat and rolling his shoulders.
“Great. Junie and I will take the South. Pay attention to your air consumption, communicate with your buddy, and head back to the surface if you need help with anything. The water is only three to five meters and visibility looks good. Let Captain Banyu know if there’s any trouble. ”
The man gives a thumbs up from his Captain’s chair where he’s digging into a container of rice and fried egg. His son, the Boat Boy, minds the anchor.
“Got it.” I nod as anticipation churns in my belly. I didn’t expect to be paired with Steven. I guess as the newbie, he’s probably expected to babysit me. We slip into our gear and one by one the groups step out or flip backward into the water.
I hold back, suddenly nervous, until Steven and I are the last on the boat. He approaches me steadily, tank on his back, fins and mask in one hand.
“Show me how we check, buddy.” His low voice makes my nipples harden and I’m grateful for the neoprene suit. I urge my body to calm down. He probably doesn’t want to be stuck with me today.
So I decide to prove him wrong—to show him that I won’t be dead weight. I run us through the buddy check quickly and confidently. He’s been a great teacher and I feel safe inspecting the equipment because of him, whatever else is going on between us.
“Great job. After you.” He waves me onto the ledge, letting me hold his hand for balance. The swooping sensation in my belly hasn’t fully subsided before I’m stepping over the edge and plunging into the warm sea.
That first look under the ocean’s surface is exhilarating every time. The water is clear and shallow with sands stretching out for miles, dotted with rocks, corals, and grass. Tiny bubbles tickle me through my wetsuit as I bob back to the surface.
Steven plunges into the water next to me, getting my attention before making the signal to descend. He adjusts my weight belt and the amount of air in my BCD until I’m comfortably floating about four feet off the ground and making small movements with my fins so as not to disturb the silty bottom.
He flashes the Okay sign and I send him one back. He points to his eyes, then to me, then presses the index fingers of both hands together and pushes them out. He’s reminding me to stay together, within eyesight. I flash him the Okay sign again and we start our search.
It doesn’t take long to find plastic water bottles, candy wrappers, and random bits of metal.
Steven holds the knife and the mesh bag so I swim up to him every few minutes to deposit my loot.
It’s sad to realize how much trash ends up in our oceans, but it’s exhilarating to use my new scuba skills to make a small difference.
Time flies by. Admittedly, I forget to check my dive computer and my air levels until Steven prompts me, but we’ve already spent over 30 minutes underwater and we need to head back to the boat.
As I’m climbing up the ladder back to somewhat solid ground, my stomach gives an empty kind of groan—a gnawing hunger I’ve only felt after breathing dry, compressed air.
“That was great,” Steven says, following me up. “For a new diver, that was seriously impressive, Junie. You’re a natural under the water.”
Holy praise kink, Batman. The flirt in me wants to swoon and tease him for offering such a direct compliment, but it means more to me than I care to reveal.
“I’m sure you would’ve gotten much more without me.” I shrug, aiming for humble. I have no idea how the other teams fared, but our bag is stuffed pretty full.
“We’ll have to see how they do,” he says evenly, but I detect a subtle hint of pride.