“Uh… because I’d like to go snorkeling?”
He lifts a brow. “Let me rephrase. Why is your name theonlyone next to the snorkeling site?”
Ah. So we’re both well aware that snorkeling alone is a no-no.
“I know, I know. Safety, buddy system, don’t get swept out to sea and all that. I wasn’t going to go deep—just check it out. Wade in. Float a little. Look around.”
His gaze drops to the snorkel sticking out of my bag. “And the gear? Just in case you decide to ‘float a little’ with your face in the water for an hour?”
“You’re being dramatic.”
“I’m beingresponsible.” He folds his arms across his broad chest. “Couldn’t convince anyone to go with you? Mateo would probably sprint there if you mentioned sharks.”
It’s my turn to raise an eyebrow. “You want me to askMateoto come with me?”
He hesitates, clearly regretting bringing up the student at all. “You shouldn’t be in the water alone.”
“So that’s a yes? I should go invite Mateo?”
I’m fully aware I’m pushing him now. Maybe too far. But ever since that conversation with Theo, I’ve had the sneakingsuspicion that Holden’s rules and Holden’s feelings exist in entirely separate orbits. And maybe—just maybe—they’ve started to overlap.
“No,” he says, flat. Immediate.
I bite back a grin, but it pushes through anyway. “You sure? Hedoeslove sharks.”
He exhales hard through his nose, eyes narrowing like he’s trying not to smile. “You’re trouble.”
He’s said that before. And sure, those other times my brain was too scrambled to respond properly, but now?
“If you’re so worried,” I say, tilting my head, “you could always come with me.”
Bold. Bolder than I meant it to be. But something about this place is making me reckless. Maybe it’s the volcanic spores or the proximity to Darwin’s ghost. Maybe it’s the fact that I haven’t been graded in five days and I can physicallyfeelmy student status fading like a tan line. Or maybe—just maybe—it’s the way Holden’s been looking at me since we got here, like I’m not just a name on his clipboard.
And here, surrounded by salt and lava and the complete collapse of normal boundaries, I’m not. It doesn’t feel like he’s my TA. He’s just Holden. And I’m just Coralie.
He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t have to. I step toward the door like I’m really going to go find some other student to splash around with, and?—
His hand catches my wrist.
Not tight, not demanding. Just a gentle wrap of his fingers around mine, warm and steady.
“Give me two minutes,” he says. “I’ll grab my stuff.”
Igrin. Not just because I got my way.
But because for once, I think I caught him off guard. And for once, I think he’s letting me.
About half an hour later, we’re pushing through the last of the brush when the trees open up to reveal Cormorant Bay.
It’s different here.
The deep, iron-rich soil that stains most of Floreana has given way to a narrow strip of fine, pale sand—smooth and soft underfoot. The volcanic rocks still dot the shoreline like forgotten relics, some jutting out of the shallows, others scattered like stepping stones across the beach. The water, of course, is still impossibly clear. Almost painfully beautiful. Even from here, I can see the shadows—silhouettes moving in slow, lazy loops farther out. My whole body vibrates at the sight of it.
I must be grinning like a lunatic, because Holden lets out a quiet laugh behind me.
“Damn,” he says, lowering his bag onto the sand. He takes mine from my shoulder and sets it down next to his. “Are you ever not completely enchanted by something?”
“Should I not be?” I ask, still beaming, still locked on the ocean.
