“Not yet.”
“Excellent. That’s the goal for most first lessons.”
“I saw a fish judge me.”
“Fish are like that.”
“It was blue.”
“Blue tang. Very opinionated.”
“I could tell.”
Ellie smiled, sunlight catching the drops of water on her eyelashes.
“You did good.”
The praise landed with stupid force.
I had accepted awards on live television and felt less pleased with myself.
“Good for a beginner?”
“Good for someone who accused the Atlantic Ocean of assault.”
“That seems fair.”
“You listened. You didn’t fight the equipment too much. You kept breathing, which is always popular with management.”
“I aim to entertain.”
“Do you?”
The question was casual.
Teasing.
But it slipped beneath my guard anyway.
Yes, I thought.
Professionally. Constantly. Even when I didn’t want to.
Ellie’s smile faded slightly.
“Hey. You okay?”
I looked at her.
At this woman who did not know my face but had noticed the shift in it anyway.
“I am,” I said. “I think I forgot how quiet things could be.”
She did not answer immediately.
The silence between us floated easily on the waves.
“That’s why I like it,” she said at last. “Down there, the world has to shut up for a while.”
