I sigh, switching out for the black gown. When I turn around in the mirror, I realize she’s not wrong. The backless silhouette fits me like a glove, hugging my curves in all the right places. Only the chest is too big, but if I don’t move my arms too much, it stays put.
“Gorgeous,” she says.
“As long as I don’t bend down. Or move my arms. Or breathe.”
“Oh, stop it. Even you have to admit you look stunning.”
Stunning for who? I feel out of place in something so formal, but then again, I feel out of place hereperiod.I swallow my pride and allow her to zip it up. Jules hides stress well, but even though she’s smiling, I can tell how hard she’s focusing on making a good impression on Harry’s family. So if dressing me in couture gives her one less thing to worry about tonight, I think I can suck it up (literally, because this thing doesn’t have one inch of give). And who knows—maybe dressing like a Warren will make me feel more like one.
When I’m all fluffed and feathered, I creep up the outdoor staircase to avoid passing the bridge. Far too pleased with myself for avoiding an inevitable showdown of awkwardness with El Capitan, I wave open the doors to the sundeck (look at me speaking boat[cj1]!) and step right into a Van Gogh painting.
Oranges and misty pinks hemorrhage across the horizon as the sun prepares for its grand exit. What’s that rhyme about sea storms—red sky at night, sailor’s delight? Either way, it’s nothing short of breathtaking. I reach down to my bag and pull out the sketchbook. That familiar voice telling me this is a waste of time—that I’m better off sticking to lectures and lesson plans—tugs at my stomach, but I ignore it. I think of the Tiger shark I saw earlier—of her powerful body and bone-chilling sway across the sea floor. If I can survive a run in withher,I can certainly mess around with a couple pencils.
Slowly, I move my pencil across the page, doing my best to capture her lethal edges. It’s clunkier than I’d like, but not as terrible as I’d expect after such a long break. After a few moments, the full form of an expertly-built predator begins to take shape, staring out at me with ancient, predatory eyes.
I flip the page and move onto new subjects. Beautiful Jules in her snorkel mask and giant lifejacket on the back of the kayak. Gia and Jim at the dinner table, their hands waving, Jim’s mustachioed face tilted back mid-laugh. And behindthem, Captain Caleb standing in the doorway, his mouth turned down like a displeased toddler. But there’s something about his face I can’t get right. If I close my eyes, I can see him: eyes quietly livid. Stupid, perfect jaw clenched as he contemplates my demise. But somehow, it’s not right. I erase him and try again until the paper begins to wear thin. There’s something I’m missing in his expression—something that reads less cartoon villain and more human being.
I slam the sketchbook closed. I’m not sure why I’m even bothering to try. Despite what Jules thinks, I’m not an artist—not anymore. I don’t need to embarrass myself by trying to catch a dream I let go of years ago.
I stand, looking out for one last glimpse of the darkening water before heading back towards the salon. But when I reach the stern deck, I immediately deflate. Hovering beside some large white crane thingy (that’s boat terminology forI have no idea) are Jim and Caleb, their attention focused on a large scuff that definitely violates Arthur and Patricia’s ‘no visible flaws’ policy. They obviously haven’t seen me yet because Caleb’s face is contorted into a laugh so genuine, it makes my stomach flutter a little.
Traitor,I almost whisper to it aloud as I try to sneak backwards through the sliding door. But I only succeed in making a loud “thud” noise as I back into the already-closed glass, causing both of their heads to jolt up in unison. I swear Caleb’s eyes fly open when he sees me, perhaps in shock that his mortal enemy is capable of looking like something other than a tangle of seaweed. But he quickly regains his stone-like composure.
“Stella,” he greets me hesitantly, as if waiting for some trap to spring. Jim, on the other hand, is visibly bowled-over to see me wearing something that didn’t come from a rolled-up ball in the bottom of my duffel.
“Hi,” I give them a sheepish wave.
“Heard you did some shark whispering, mate!” Jim beams with pride. “I can’t lie, I’m a bit jealous.”
“Well next time, you’re welcome to take my place,” I tell him, and mean it. “I think I’ve embarrassed myself enough for the rest of my life.”
“She’s exaggerating,” Caleb says. “She was braver than she had any right to be.”
Brave? Is that a… compliment? FromCaleb?
“That’s what I like to hear!” Jim says. But I can’t take my eyes off Caleb. For some reason, he’s still staring at me, and for the first time in days, it’snotlike a stain he’d like to scrub off his shoe. Maybe our tentative truce from this morning will hold, and I really don’t have to worry about him making my trip even more uncomfortable. Or, more likely, all it takes for him to treat me like a human is couture and a hair-dryer.
What a snob.
The automatic doors swish open before I can say another word, sparing me from any awkward small talk with Caleb.
“Stella,” Jules calls excitedly as she emerges, holding up a pair of glittering chandelier earrings like a Tinder man with a fish. “Stella, you forgot—oh!”
She drops her hand as she clocks Jim and Caleb by the crane.
“Hey guys. Am I missing the party?”
“No party here,” Jim assures her, “We were just chatting with Stella about?—”
“Ropes!” I explain, grabbing a striped one from the hook nearest me and knocking the neat coil all over the deck. Caleb takes a sharp breath in.
“Lines,” he says under his breath as he collects the loose tangle from the ground. “On a ship, they’re called lines.
I roll my eyes. The pedantic jerk literally can’t help himself, can he? I stick on a smile for Jules and resist the urge to strangle him with said “line.”
“Actually, I’m glad I caught you both,” she says as I step towards her. “Quick question!”
I’m mid-step slipping past her towards the exit when she asks the boys, “You’re friendly with the other yacht crews in Denarau, right?”
