I smile at the mention of our DMs before I register what he said. Confused, I cock my head at him until he gestures at my T-shirt. When I glance down, I can’t help but burst out laughing. I packed a few of my dad’s old shirts for the trip, all oversized and worn down to a threadbare, light layer, perfectly doubling as swimsuit cover-ups. This one happens to feature a drawing of French fries dancing across a McDonald’s logo.
‘Oh my God!’ I press my palm into my forehead. ‘I swear, I did not pick this on purpose.’
Hugh’s abs contract with his laughter, deep and rumbly. ‘I figured it may not belong to you considering it looks older than you are.’
He’s right, there are holes along the hem and the seam of the left shoulder is coming undone.
‘It’s my dad’s,’ I explain.
‘So it runs in the family.’ He raises his eyebrows.
‘I am not going to apologise for being patriotic,’ I say, pushing my sunglasses further up my nose. ‘I happen to like this T-shirt. It’s appropriately vintage, not like you would know.’
Hugh’s wheezing with laughter now.
I glare at him.
‘What?’ he asks, seeing the annoyed look on my face. He wipes a tear from his eye. ‘I’m not even laughing at the T-shirt anymore. I just can’t believe I’m stuck on a boat with you of all people. And we’re sharing a room!’ He dissolves into laughter again.
‘And I can’t believe you’re able to contort your mouth into something that isn’t a frown.’
‘I’m capable of quite a few emotions,’ Hugh informs me, although his mouth settles back into a line.
‘And I’m surprised you’ve found a happy one considering Vanessa just proved my point,’ I retort.
‘Is that what you heard? I heard her say coral bleaching is still an issue.’ Hugh raises his eyebrows at me and for the first time, maybe because his sunglasses are back to covering his eyes, I notice his lips. They’re slightly chapped from sun and wind. His bottom lip is fuller than his top lip in an almost feminine way, but the strong line of his jaw balances it out. He has blond stubble sprouting across his chin.
‘And I heard her say that corals are healthier.’
‘Just because they’re healthier doesn’t mean the problem is fixed.’
‘It does mean that it’s not the primary problem anymore,’ I argue. I’ve spent enough time listening to Millie to know the high-level logic like the back of my hand. ‘Hugh, Vanessa said it herself, the pollution from fertiliser is killing the reef. We have to bring attention to it.’
‘We already have attention on the reef, though, why do we need to pivot it elsewhere, especially when coral bleaching is proven to move people to donate? Why risk people not donating at all?’
‘But that’s just it! Coral bleaching has been so overused that it doesn’t move people as much anymore.’
‘Where are your data points to back that up?’
‘I don’t need data points,’ I growl, although I wish I had service to text Millie and ask her what exactly the data points are. ‘I need a fish to prove to the public that they need to be focusing on something else.’
‘Well, you’re not gonna find it,’ Hugh says smugly.
‘Well, you’re being condescending.’
‘That’s all you’ve got?’
‘Ugh!’ I huff. ‘Look, I was going to ask you if we could just not talk about it. Can we agree to disagree?’
‘OK,’ Hugh says, his tone changing ever so slightly. ‘What do you propose we talk about?’
‘Hmmm . . . seasickness? Eye irritants?’
‘I have a better idea. How about the benefits of reef-friendly sunscreen?’ Hugh says.
‘Oh sure, that sounds like the best path to friendship. I’m sure talking about the one thing I forgot will help me forgive you for humiliating me online repeatedly and disagreeing with everything I stand for.’
Hugh blinks, and for a moment I wonder if I’ve taken things too far.
