“Holy shit, I think this is the best mango I’ve ever eaten in my life,” she gasps as she bites into a soft piece of orange flesh. I watch the liquid dribble down her chin and have to tuck my tongue back in my mouth.
Keep it together, she’s a student, I remind myself and take a deep sip of my beer.
“We should cheers to our new diving certifications!” Nick insists, pushing his drink to the middle. They all clink glasses and stare at me, waiting. I shrug and knock the neck of my bottle onto theirs before turning away.
Junie’s shrieks of mirth have me whipping back around. Her bottle has foamed over, drenching her white top in frothy beer. Heat spreads throughout my body and I have to wrench my gaze away from how the fabric clings to her bare breasts.
I tear off my singlet and throw it at her with a grunt. It comes out part-Caveman but I feel like one. I’m no better than my basest instincts—begging me to drink in the sight of her, wet and nearly nude.
Fuck, why is this woman never wearing proper clothes?
“Thank you,” she whispers, and I feel my pulse stabilize as she scampers away to change.
Eva eyes me over the neck of her bottle, but doesn’t say a word. I move further away from the mayhem, looking out at the horizon.
When Junie returns from the washroom, I’m wrecked. I almost jump off the boat then and there. One glance at her in my shirt and my heart nearly gives out. It swallows her up, kissing the bottom curve of her sun-kissed bum and revealing the most gorgeous sideboob I’ve ever encountered.
It takes everything in me not to groan out loud. I punch one of the wooden support beams in frustration, earning me an admonishing look from the captain, and stomp off for some privacy on the bow of the ship.
Wind whips through my hair and calms the hot blood pulsing in my veins. I push down on my straining cock, willing it to behave, to stop acting like we’ve never seen a woman in my clothes before.
Fuck’s sake, what’s wrong with me? The sight of her makes me ache. My chest is tight with a truth I don’t want to acknowledge: Junie has gotten under my skin.
But her course is over; she’ll be flying home tomorrow, and I’ll be released from this hell. I just need to keep my distance until then. Easier said than done on an island the size of a postage stamp, but there are places I can go when I want to be alone.
Apparently the sanctuary isn’t one of them. As the boat pulls into the dock, we all jump into action, and Mike appears, slapping me cheekily on the back.
“You look troubled,” he says, helping to tie off a mooring line. “You haven’t taught a class of newbies in a long time, why now?”
“Juliette was sick,” I say, the lie tasting bitter as I unload gear from the boat.
I love Mike because he never pries. He never pushed for details about my past in Aus, and he never commented on my questionable history with women. When he suddenly stopped finding me passed out drunk in the volunteer dorm beds, he didn’t ask about that either. As long as I get my shit done, he doesn’t seem to mind. He’s my closest friend. Maybe the only one I have left.
“Aye, on Monday.” He nods then glances toward the dive shop where Juliette has led the new divers to wash up. “Junie’s nice. She cares about our work.”
“Who?” I ask.
Mike raises one eyebrow at me then shrugs, looking out over the water as if the answer to why I’m so difficult to be friends with will be written in the sea foam somewhere.
“They’ll be celebrating at The Local tonight. We should go too.” He puffs out his chest. “Some women still find divers attractive. The ones who don’t know we always smell like fish.”
I can’t help the laugh that tears from my throat. “Planning to meet up with Victoria?” I smirk.
“Maybe. We could do some dancing.” He demonstrates with a little shake of his shoulders. I like him too much to call it a shimmy.
“Okay,” I concede, hoping he’ll leave me in peace if I agree. “No dancing for me. But we’ll go.” Mike doesn’t ask for much and I don’t want to be the reason he doesn’t have fun. So what if she’ll be there? In a few more hours she’ll be gone.
He grins and slaps me on the shoulder. “Cheers. Good man, Steven. Cheer up, it’s almost the weekend!”
It’s Wednesday, but what difference does it make?
“Weekends don’t matter when you love what you do,” I say, but he’s already rising, moving toward the party. The sound of their laughter floats toward me on the wind. I see Junie, still swallowed by my t-shirt, all bronze skin and bright, salt-kissed hair. It’s her last night. I’ll feel better when she’s gone.
*****
I spend an embarrassing amount of time getting ready. Mike’s joke about smelling like fish really got in my head. I scrub under my nails for nearly 20 minutes, convinced there’s a reek I can no longer detect. I try to wrestle my hair into submission for the first time in years, but the salt and the wind has made it so thick, it refuses to cooperate.
I feel naked, exposed, as I walk into The Local, as if everyone will be able to smell the desperation on me. When was the last time I’d given a thought to my appearance? Probably not since Naomiand I were together. The thought of her nearly sends me into an anxiety spiral. I think about just turning around before anyone notices me, but then Mike shouts my name and the whole group turns and stares.
