“Is everything okay?” he asked, interrupting my thoughts. I glanced his way, having nearly forgotten he was there, still waiting on an answer as to what I did for a living.
“Sorry, I—I’m just realizing this was a stupid idea.” I tucked my phone back into my pocket. The heat I felt on my face wasn’t coming from the sun any longer, but rather the embarrassment and worry swelling inside of me.
“What was?” he asked, leaning toward me as the wind picked up.
I put my head in my hands, mortified that I was suddenly having a breakdown aboard the fancy vessel in front of this carefree, entirely too-handsome man. “I shouldn’t be here right now.”
He chuckled, as if I were making a joke. “Well, sorry, sweetheart. It’s a little too late to decide that.”
I furrowed my brow at him. “This was a stupid decision. I don’t even know anyone on this boat, and I…” There was no point in continuing to rant. He was right. I was here, and I was staying until the boat ride ended.
He tipped his bottle of lager toward me. “Hell, I don’t know anyone on here, either. That’s half the fun of it, isn’t it? Total freedom.” He winked. “Live a little.”
I scowled but didn’t say anything else. It wasn’t worth the argument. Besides, he was right. And even if he wasn’t, there was nothing either of us could do about it. I’d have to wait until we returned to land, which, as the sun had begun to sink closer to the horizon, I had to believe would be soon.
At realizing I wasn’t going to argue, he said, “What are you in such a hurry to get back to anyway?”
“My life, maybe?” I scowled, a bite to my words.
“What part of this isn’t your life?” he asked, running a hand through his hair. “You’re living it, aren’t you?”
“Just forget it.” I pulled my legs up onto the seat with me, wrapping my arms around my knees. I can’t explain it. I don’t know why the nagging feeling that something was going to go wrong had filled my insides with such vengeance, but as we watched the endless ocean, the gap between us and the shore growing larger and larger, my inner voice screamed that I’d made a terrible mistake.
Finally, the man gave up, walking away from me with a simple shrug. He made his way across the deck, toward the only other girl on our boat. She was younger and outgoing, her short, black curls flowing in the breeze as she danced to the music that I’d all but tuned out. He began dancing behind her until they were both laughing so hard they had to stop.
I couldn’t help staring at them with envy. I’d been carefree once, too. What had happened to that girl?
Life.
That was the answer. Life and a mortgage and a husband and responsibilities. This was the first thing I’d allowed myself to do in so long that felt free and reckless. I struggled against the worry, trying to bring myself peace.
I stood from my seat, making my way across the deck and toward the bar and, as I did, the boat rocked with a big wave. I grabbed hold of the wall, just as everyone braced themselves. A bottle of beer slammed to the ground and rolled across the floor, spilling the wheat-yellow beverage as it went.
Just then, the engine stopped.
My heart sped up, my throat suddenly dry as I looked at the bartender, and then around at the others. Everyone seemed just as confused as I felt.
“What the hell happened?” one of the men called. A dozen or so of the people from the deck—crew members, I realized, despite their casual clothing—disappeared below deck.
I stared at each of the remaining faces in silence, my breath loud in my ears as chills swept over my arms. Finally, my gaze fell back to the bartender just as a few members of the crew reappeared, following two men in uniforms that matched the man who’d invited me. Their stern expressions looked official.
“It’s okay,” one of them said, holding out his hands in a gesture of reassurance. “Nobody panic. We’re having an issue with the engine. We can fix it, but we need to get to the nearest port in order to do it.”
Relief cascaded over me, but it was watered down in an instant as he went on, “There’s a port a few miles ahead. We’re going to ask you to bear with us. Once we port, you’ll have to disembark until we’re able to get it fixed.”
“So, you aren’t taking us home?” the young Black woman with short hair asked, her voice shaky.
“Unfortunately, we’re too far to make it back safely. We need to make it to the closest port.”
“Which port is it?” the man who’d been talking to me earlier asked, obviously well-versed in the area.
“It’s…” The man looked behind him at the other silent members of the crew. “It’s not a public one. But it’s our only option. Once we arrive, our crew will see you safely to shore as we work to get it fixed and get everyone back aboard. There’ll be a beach there, room for you to get out and play. So, just think of this as an extra bit of fun.” He winked, but there was a sense of trepidation about him that matched my own. Something was more wrong with the ship than they were telling us, I could tell. Were they going to be able to fix it? What
