“Hang on, berry, I have something for you in my pocket.” He reaches in and pulls out a middle finger. “Here you go.”
“Now tell me, was that your left or right hand?”
Nate opens his mouth and then shuts it. “I think I hate you a little bit.”
“And yet you went on this cruise with me.”
“I don’t know about you, but arguing with you is fun to me. Call me weird.”
“You’re weird.”
“I have something in myotherpocket for you?—”
I laugh and stop him. “Nate, what did you read up on?”
“Mayan ruins,” he replies. “There’s an excursion by the cruise line. And they had a few last-minute spots.”
“How convenient.”
“All you have to do is survive the dock and a bus ride.”
“It can’t be worse than getting on the boat,” I say. “So, is this excursion already booked?”
“It might be. I had a feeling you’d like the idea.”
“And how long as it been booked?”
“Since the plane ride.”
“Before I was evenonthe boat?”
“I knew I’d convince you. And I did.” He throws another smile my way and I’m completely disarmed. Ireallylike that smile.
“Y-you thought right,” I reply as I force myself to stand. I will notthink about the way he looks at me. I won’t. “Shall we head out?”
He nods and we throw our trash away before leaving. I knew most people would be heading out, but everyone seems to be doing it all at once. There are enough people to make it hard to keep our usual distance. I’m tempted to shift closer to Nate because he’s far easier than a stranger.
But on our flight, that went horribly.
I’m sure that once we get off of the boat, things will get better. We’ll both have a distraction, which is what I desperately need to avoid a spiral about the things I’m noticing.
Slowly, we’re shuffled off the boat and onto a dock. I feel my usual panic at being close to water, but I manage to keep it hidden and not cling to Nate like a fool. I’m proud of myself as we’re loaded on a bus.
Then I see how crowded the bus is.
Everyone is practically on top of each other, squished into rows of seats. I have no choice but to squeeze in tightly with Nate when we sit.
“We should’ve gotten a car,” he mutters.
“Yeah, this is . . . something.”
I can tolerate it, but Nate isn’t faring well. His shoulders are tense and he stares at the door, as if his will alone could make this end.
My lips tug downward. This isn’t the first time we’ve been on a crowded bus together. Back in high school, we’d gone on a field trip to a local amusement park and sat together like we always did. He was his normal, goofy self.
This version of him is a far cry from that.
“Think you’ll make it?” I ask. “I could try to steal another seat or something.”
