On our second dive, I ask Steven for my own bag. All the other teams have two. There’s no way we’ll be able to collect the heaviest load unless we both carry our weight. He eyes me warily and I valiantly ignore the sticky fruit juice glistening on his kissable lips as I await his judgment. Despite his sour face, I’ll bet he tastes sweet and delicious.
“Fine. But your main priority is controlling your buoyancy. If I see you bouncing around or bumping into anything, I’ll carry it.”
“Deal.” I grin.
The second dive is even better than the first. I’m growing more confident in the water, the slow, measured breaths becoming more natural. The steady trickle of bubbles from my regulator soothes me as I hunt for treasures.
Then we hit the motherload. I squeeze Steven’s hand, directing his attention to a metal pipe half buried in the sand. We both tug, trying to dislodge it without disrupting the seabed, and it slips right out. We find five more of the long, heavy rods scattered around the site. They’re small but hefty and I feel my heart flutter with excitement. Will they be enough to give us the edge in the friendly competition? Will my discovery be enough to vindicate me in Steven’s eyes?
A few minutes later, an oddly shaped rock catches my eye. I swim toward it and my heart begins to pound. This has to be it.
We return to the boat feeling light and airy despite the fact that I carry both bags while Steven cradles an anchor that has to weigh at least 20 pounds. It should’ve been hard to read each other underwater, but I can feel excitement and pride ripplingoff him like ocean waves. We swim so close together, our arms occasionally brush, sending bolts of electricity through my body. We finally have something in common: we both like to win.
I pass my fins up to the Boat Boy and drop my tank into its slot before stripping out of my wetsuit and finding a patch of sunlight. I’m covered in goosebumps, shivering in the breeze, but I can’t stop grinning.
With a twist to his lips that I would almost call a smile, Steven takes our bags while I break down my gear. Unless one of the other groups pops up with some kettlebells, I have a good feeling about this.
I take my time removing my empty tank and rolling up my regulator hose as the other divers return. “We saw some hawksbills!” Mason announces as he climbs aboard, shaking the water out of his springy hair. “It never gets old.”
I blush, realizing I’d been so focused on winning that I hadn’t even looked for any sea life. Maybe I am a little too competitive—but if it helps me break down the walls between us, maybe that isn’t such a bad thing.
“I want to grab some pictures of everyone with our haul to highlight some of the work we do as volunteers,” I say, changing the subject.
“Do you think you can find a way to make litter sexy?” Thomas asks.
I snort. “No, but the stats are pretty impressive. Why do you break it down into types?” There’s a chalkboard with tally marks next to categories like plastic bottles, clothing, boat parts, and fishing. Maybe I just love seeing the way his eyes light up when he gets to talk about trash.
“Data always tells a story. It gives us insight into who might be leaving it behind. If we notice a trend in certain areas, then we can make better decisions about where to focus our outreach efforts. Talking to fishermen or boat captains is different from targeting the tourism industry or reaching out to schools.”
“Who do we think is responsible for this selfie stick?” Juliette holds up a slimy rod and pretends to snap a photo.
I shake my head. This trip has forever altered my view of vacationers. Are the oceans and waterways back home this bad? Honestly, probably worse. We don’t even have the crystal clear waters of the South Pacific or vibrant coral reefs to protect.
Steven emerges from the front of the boat and I swear he flashes me a wink before approaching the table. I feel it like a wave of heat in my core.
“Everybody in and accounted for?” We glance around, nodding at each other, and Steven says something in Indonesian to the captain who turns the engine on. The smell of diesel fills the air as we crowd around the table for a debrief.
“It was a great dive, everyone. Thanks for giving up your morning and pitching in. We collected a total of 296 pieces of rubbish today, for a total of 25 kilos. That’s our best haul in a while.” I do the mental math quickly, it’s something like 55 pounds. My eyebrows rise.
Steven continues. “I’m sure I surprise absolutely no one when I say that” —the table erupts into a drum roll as everyone slaps their hands down— “the winners of Most Tech are Thomas and Mason. One phone and one tablet today.” He rolls his eyes, clearly as confused about how many people drop their valuables as I am.
“Thank you, thank you.” The boys clasp hands and take a bow like they’ve just won a great honor.
“And the most weight goes to…” I hold my breath, eyes locked on Steven’s face. His gaze flicks to mine just as he announces, “me and Junie.”
I’m so charged with energy—so antsy with anticipation and hanging all of my hopes on that singular outcome, that my body reacts without conscious thought. That’s the only excuse I have for what happens next.
I squeal, jumping in the air, and cling to Steven’s body like a koala. My arms fly around his neck as my legs wind around his waist. He moves instinctively to catch me, holding me to his warm chest, and after the slightest moment of hesitation—less than a breath—he swings me around in a circle.
Instantly, I erupt into flame. My thighs burn hot, my pulse skyrockets. His lips are inches from mine, but this isn’t supposed to be happening—I can’t do this here, in front of everyone. Not after he unambiguously shut me down the other night.
My breath catches in my throat as our eyes meet and I bite my lip, hard. He’s so close. I squeeze my legs together and he slowly drops me back to the ground, clearing his throat and looking back at the assembled group. They’ve fallen silent for the space of a heartbeat but try to cover the awkward moment with scattered applause and one lone whistle.
“With 12 kilos.” Mike coughs, clearly trying to bite back a smile. I slink back into my seat, avoiding everyone’s eyes although I can feel Juliette buzzing with the desire to say something.
Steven remains standing behind me, but his arms are crossed over his chest and the vibe between us has instantly cooled. Embarrassment floods my senses and I groan internally. Whyam I such a freak where this man is concerned? Ipouncedon him! It can’t just be a hot accent and a fit body, but what else do I even know about him to explain this animal magnetism?
Because I want him, bad. He’s grouchy and closed-off. He’s run away from me on more than one occasion. But for just a moment there, I thought I felt his body… respond. Just the thought of it sends color blooming through my cheeks again.
