Page 10 of Shipwrecked

“Jules, I don’t think you understand the size of this yacht.”

“Seán.”

“What age are you?”

“Seán.”

“I will pass on your message, but he’s not bothered by anything that happened last night. That’s not what Cillian looks like when he’s upset.” Seán climbs up the stairs. I do too. Cillian is leaning in the doorway, waiting.

“Jules said he’s sorry about a certain situation that may have made you uncomfortable,” Seán says. “All set?”

“All set,” Cillian says.

I wish I had something to throw at the back of Seán’s head. “Asshole!” He laughs as he strolls to the cabin, then trots up the outdoor steps to the cockpit, leaving me alone with Cillian. The corners of his mouth twitch as if he’s fighting a smile.

“As you heard,” I say, clinging to the remains of my pride, “I’m sorry. I realise you didn’t sign up for…that.”

“It was a night out, Jules. I was off the clock.” His arms are folded loosely across his chest, the triskele on his forearm on display. “Actually,” he says, “I want to apologise to you.”

“You want to apologise to me?”

“When I call someone bossy, I always mean it in a good way. Last night you took it as an insult, but it wasn’t one.”

I blink. “You’re talking about earlier in the night?”

Cillian nods. He’s got his white cap on again, and his black waves are tamed beneath it. Remembering the feeling of those silky strands beneath my fingers makes me twitchy. I push it aside, along with the memory of how solid his chest is. The orange T-shirt of Seán’s company doesn’t do Cillian justice.

“I wasn’t insulted.”

Cillian looks doubtful.

“I was upset, but that wasn’t actually to do with what you said. Indirectly, I guess.” Through the open cabin door, I see Darren examining a map with Charles and Yasop. Yasop is demonstrating our heading by walking a compass across the table, with twirls, perhaps indicating where we’ll do donuts later. “Darren broke up with me because I’m too bossy. It was recent. I haven’t had a chance to straighten everything out in my head yet. Him bringing a date doesn’t help with that.”

All the reasoning about us drifting apart and fizzling out doesn’t take the sting out of Darren’s actions. Couldn’t he have waited at least a month? But…glass houses. I’m not in any position to be throwing stones.

Cillian studies Darren, a flare of dislike in his eyes.

“Anyway,” I say. “Thank you for being cool.”

I rejoin the group inside, gratefully accepting Mary’s offer of a sparkling water. The sun’s brilliant as we hit open waters, and we make our way upstairs. There’s a little third floor on top of the cockpit with a tarp roof and cushioned seats. We listen to music and talk, and by the time lunch passes, we’re all alive again.

We change into swimwear and Cillian briefs us. I listen closely as Cillian describes the winch and how it functions, checking for myself how large the bolts attaching the metal contraption to the deck are. There’s enough space between it and the back of the yacht for people to take off and land without ever touching water. Darren catches me listening intently to the safety talk and grins. I pretend not to notice.

Mary and Charles go up first, then Willow and Yasop. They’re hooting their hearts out.

Mathieu slips next to me as Cillian unclips Willow from the harness. She’s windswept, her long, fair hair messy despite being plaited.

“Should we go up together?” Mathieu asks.

I stare at a knot in Willow’s hair. “It looks wild up there.”

“It felt wild,” Willow says with a wide grin.

I examine the horizon line. There are no islands, no people, no boats. “It’s getting cloudy, isn’t it?”

“We’re burning in the sun.” Darren joins us. “You’re just too scared to go up.”

“That isn’t it. I think the wind has picked up—”