by Paige Toon
‘Your weights are unbalanced,’ he says, putting his mask on top of his head and revealing his very dark brown eyes. Sigh . . . ‘Take off your belt,’ he commands.
I reach under my BCD to release the strap, then hand it to him. He begins to feed the weights off the belt until they’re more evenly weighted.
‘Did you manage to avoid him?’
He’s talking about Rick, of course. Bridget and Marty are still underwater, thankfully, so they’re oblivious to his question and my reply.
‘Yeah. I slept on a sunlounger and I have the mozzie bites to prove it,’ I say jauntily as I show him the red bumps on my arm. He doesn’t look amused.
I stayed on the sunlounger that night until Carl’s heavy footsteps on the stairs over my head alerted me to the fact that he had vacated our apartment. ‘He wasn’t too happy to see me the next morning,’ I add, remembering the cold-shoulder treatment I received when I bumped into the boys in the lobby. They were checking out and I was on my way to Duval Street to buy a swimming costume at last: black, for a change. A nice, safe, colour choice. ‘But he’s gone home now, so that’s a relief.’
His eyebrows rise ever so slightly, but he says nothing as he hands me back my belt. I try to put it on underneath my bulky BCD, but it’s a struggle. He waits patiently.
‘Was that your girlfriend the other night at the house?’ I try to sound casual, but I’m nervous.
He laughs sharply. ‘No,’ he says quite firmly, and I can’t be sure if he means he never would or he never has. There’s a very big difference in my mind, but the relief is still apparent.
Nearby, Bridget, Marty and Jorge resurface and give each other the okay sign. Jorge pops his mask on top of his head.
‘Yes, good,’ he says to Leo with an approving nod as he notices us together. ‘You buddy Laura.’
Thank you, God!
Marty looks at me and then I see her eyes narrow as she scrutinises Leo. There’s no way I can keep the smirk from my face.
‘Who the hell was that?’ she asks later when we’re changing out of our wetsuits into our normal clothes.
‘Who are you talking about?’ I ask innocently.
‘You know exactly who I’m talking about. Your new buddy.’ She says the word ominously.
‘Leo?’ I reply, keeping up the act for as long as humanly possible.
‘Yes! Where did he come from?’
‘Yeah, he was a bit phwoar,’ Bridget chips in, entering the conversation. ‘If you want me to take him off your hands, I’d be happy to oblige.’
My stomach clenches.
‘Thanks very much!’ Marty exclaims with mock outrage. ‘Are you trying to get rid of me?’
Bridget just laughs. ‘You can buddy Laura instead.’
‘No, it’s okay.’ I try to keep my voice calm, but I’m buggered if I’m letting her swap with me.
Bridget grins and nudges me knowingly. ‘I don’t know, poor Rick.’
‘What do you mean, poor Rick?’ I snap.
‘Well, he never got anywhere, did he?’ she says with amusement.
‘How does that make him poor Rick?’ I ask, unable to keep the edge from my voice. ‘Why should he expect to get anywhere with me?’
‘Chill out, Laura, she’s only teasing you,’ Marty chides.
I feel my face heating up at my overreaction. ‘Are we going for this drink or what?’ I say.
‘Seems like you need one,’ Marty replies. I choose to ignore her.
To my barely controlled delight, Leo and Jorge are at the bar when we walk into ‘Ye Olde Thatched Tiki Hut’, as Marty has taken to calling it.
‘How did you enjoy today?’ Jorge asks us.
‘Brilliant,’ I enthuse.
Bridget and Marty agree.
‘Wait until tomorrow when we head out into open water,’ he says. The thought makes me feel excited and anxious.
Leo’s hair is still wet and there’s a damp patch where the water has dripped onto the back of his T-shirt. I have an intense urge to get out my towel and dry his hair. It’s even sexier when dishevelled like this.
‘Laura!’
I come to with a start and realise that Marty is speaking to me.
‘Sorry, what?’ I ask.
‘You’re in another world,’ she berates. ‘What are you having?’ She nods towards the bartender.
‘Oh, um . . .’ I notice Leo is drinking beer. ‘A beer, please.’ He puts the bottle to his lips and swigs from it. Butterflies fill my stomach.
‘Pull up a stool,’ Jorge says. ‘So where are your boyfriends?’ he asks Marty and Bridget with a grin, and I purse my lips at him because he knows full well that that’s the wrong description.
‘Oh, they’re not our boyfriends.’ Marty brushes him off.
‘We met them last week,’ Bridget adds. ‘But they’ve gone back to Chicago now.’
Jorge seems amused as he flashes me a look. I shift uncomfortably.
Marty pays for our drinks and hands them over, settling herself on another stool.
‘Do you both live here?’ she asks, not fazed in the slightest by the most beautiful man in the world. I envy her nonchalance.
‘Nope, just here for the summer,’ Jorge replies. ‘We live in Miami most of the year.’
‘Are you a dive instructor, too?’ Bridget asks Leo.
‘No,’ he replies resolutely, barely looking at her.
‘Leo drives the boat,’ Jorge explains. ‘He’s a dive master, so he helps me out sometimes.’
Leo takes a swig from his bottle.
‘He’s a helpful guy,’ Jorge adds in a singsong voice, giving me a knowing look. I blush furiously. I think he’s guessed I haven’t told my friends about them.
‘How long are you here?’ I’m startled as Leo’s voice breaks the silence. I realise his question is directed straight at me.
‘We leave on Sunday,’ I reply, and suddenly my mind is flooded with images of Matthew and I can’t help but flinch.
‘Well,’ Marty interrupts uncertainly. ‘Maybe Thursday or Friday. We were thinking about going to Miami for a couple of days.’
‘You have to do at least one dive as fully qualified divers,’ Jorge says with disappointment.
‘So maybe we’ll go on Friday,’ Marty says.
‘Or Saturday?’ I add weakly.
‘Friday,’ Bridget concurs with Marty. ‘I want to have at least a couple of nights in Miami.’
I tune out. I feel horrible. What is going on back home? Has Matthew seen her? That slag? I can’t bear the thought of it, can’t bear the thought of returning to him, to pick up the pieces . . .
‘Why don’t you want to go home?’ Leo asks in a low voice, and I’m surprised to find him watching me.
I shake my head, my nose starting to prickle. Oh hell, don’t cry.
I hear Marty’s voice falter as she notices this exchange.
‘Who does want to go home after a holiday?’ she interjects jollily. She thinks she’s coming to my rescue, but her interruption feels brash and wrong. I force a smile onto my face and glug down my beer, intensely aware of the warmth of the man sitting beside me.
‘What on earth was that about?’ Marty asks accusingly as soon as we’re in the car.
I shake my head and steadfastly ignore her. I knew this was coming.
‘What?’ Bridget asks with confusion. She’s back in the driver’s seat, Marty beside her.
‘Laura,’ Marty explains to her. ‘And Leo.’ She swivels in her seat again to look at me. ‘You fancy the pants off him, don’t you?’
‘I do not!’ I object as my face burns.
‘Who wouldn’t?’ Bridget casually says. ‘He’s sex on legs.’
‘Yeah, but he’s not Laura’s type,’ Marty tells her flippantly.
‘What?’ I snap, my humiliation being swiftly replaced with annoyance. ‘How would you know?’
‘Well, he’s nothing like Matthew, and definitely nothing like Will.’ Will was my first and only love before Matthew
.
‘I think that’s probably the point,’ Bridget interrupts.
‘Eh?’ Marty asks her with a furrowed brow.
‘She hasn’t exactly had much luck with either of those two, has she?’
My eyebrows pop up in surprise and, as Bridget eyes me in the rear-view mirror, I silently thank her for understanding.
We’re on the boat heading out to the reef. It’s Day Two of our course and, after another morning in the swimming pool, we’re about to have our first Open Water dive. Leo is driving the boat and Tegan is up at the front with him. I keep staring to see if I can sense any chemistry between them, but it’s not clear. I take it she’s staying on the boat while we do the dive.
We arrive at the reef and Jorge tells us to get our equipment ready. There’s still so much to remember and it blows my mind. Leo appears by my side and my pulse quickens.
BWRAF – Begin With Review And Friend – that’s the acronym PADI uses to make sure we remember the five buddy checks we need to make.
B is for BCD. We inflate and deflate our jackets to check the mechanism is working, then inflate enough so that we’ll float when we get into the water.
W is for Weights. The weight belt must always be worn in the same way, with a right-hand release. Leo might have to be the one to release my weight belt should we ever need to make an emergency ascent. I suck in a sharp breath as I feel his hands on my waist, making sure I’ve buckled up my belt properly. Feeling like I’m all thumbs, I do the same to him. I glance up to see him regarding me with those dark eyes of his and my heart threatens to beat out of my chest. Can he feel it too?
R is for Release. Our BCDs – jackets – should be fitted securely and snugly.
A is for Air. We check that the regulator is functioning properly, that the tank valve is open and that the air tank is full by checking the pressure gauge and breathing through the regulator. Leo hands me his alternate second stage – his spare air source – in case I need it in an emergency. I take it and breathe from it a few times, avoiding eye contact, then hand him mine so he can do the same. I feel like these checks are going on forever, but, thankfully, that’s pretty much it. Apart from the Final Okay, we’re done.
‘Leo! Laura! You go first,’ Jorge instructs loudly, making me jump. I remember to walk backwards to the dive platform at the rear of the boat. Leo, I notice, puts his fins on with ease once we reach it.
‘Follow the rope all the way down and wait at the bottom,’ Jorge tells me as Leo checks over my mask and flashes me the okay sign. I do the same to him – making an ‘O’ shape with my forefinger and thumb.
‘Big step,’ Leo says, and I smile and raise my eyebrows at him because his voice is for once laced with amusement. He must remember the last time I stood on this boat, when I was worried about reef sharks. I’m not worried about them anymore. Not when I’m with him.
I pull my mask on, breathe through my snorkel, and comply. He joins me in the water and we slowly descend.
Nothing prepares me for what it is like this time. The visibility is far better than last time, and the crystal-clear water must span for over twenty metres. I reach the bottom and kneel. Leo gives me the okay sign and I give him double thumbs up in return. He shakes his head slowly and takes my hand, fashioning it into the okay sign. Even underwater, his touch makes my skin tingle. I grin and water seeps into my mouth. I expel it quickly and try to stifle my giggles as the rest of my course-mates appear around us. We form a circle on the sand and our lesson begins.
‘That was good,’ Leo says approvingly when we’re back on the boat. ‘You’ve picked it up quickly.’
‘Thanks,’ I reply, his compliment warming me from the inside out.
I was able to adjust my buoyancy much more easily this time. Bridget and Marty seemed to struggle, and I could tell Marty absolutely hated the bit where we had to remove our masks and put them back on again underwater. I didn’t like that much, either. I liked the buddy sharing, though – the bit where Leo and I had to practise using each other’s air, passing the mouthpiece between us. Bloody hell, I fancy him.
I’m crushed when Bridget and Marty want to go straight back to the hotel to get cleaned up before dinner.
‘Just one drink,’ I plead.
‘Oh, Laura, the salt water is making my skin feel all tight and disgusting,’ Marty moans. ‘I need a shower,’ she adds annoyingly and I could kick her.
‘We’ll be quick!’ I know I’m sounding desperate, but I don’t really care.
‘Come on, just the one,’ Bridget chips in, and I could kiss her.
Marty sighs. ‘Go on, then.’
Jorge and Leo are already there. Tegan is with them.
‘Forecast not looking good for tomorrow,’ she comments as she turns around from her position at the bar and hands beers to Jorge and Leo. To my dismay, she pulls up a stool next to Leo. ‘Storm coming.’
‘What does that mean for us?’ I ask, halting in front of them instead of going straight to the bar. It’s my round.
‘Call the office in the morning,’ Jorge replies. ‘We might have to postpone the dive.’
‘Postpone it to when?’ Bridget asks worriedly.
‘Depends on the storm,’ Jorge says.
‘It will probably last only a day,’ Tegan chips in. ‘You should be able to continue on Thursday.’
‘Good,’ Bridget replies. ‘We’re going to Miami on Friday,’ she reminds us.
I don’t want to go to Miami. I want to stay here.
‘Are you getting the drinks, or what?’ Marty nudges me.
‘Yeah, yeah. Beer?’
Bridget and Marty nod as I go to stand at the bar, to the left of Tegan.
‘We’re going to Miami this weekend too, actually,’ I hear Jorge say. I glance over my shoulder to see him asking Leo: ‘You are coming, aren’t you?’
Leo shrugs. ‘Haven’t decided yet.’
Leo in Miami while I’m in Miami? Maybe Friday won’t be the last time I see him. My heart is on its own emotional roller coaster: up and down, up and down.
‘What can I get you?’
I look up to see the barman speaking to me.
‘Three beers, please.’
‘My sister’s son is coming back from his travels,’ I hear Jorge telling Marty and Bridget. ‘We’re collecting him from the airport. At least, I am. I’ll check on my apartment and pick up my post while I’m there.’
‘Where has he been?’ I ask Jorge, paying the bartender and taking the drinks back to my friends.
‘South America. Cuba, too, but don’t tell the authorities.’
I read somewhere recently that since the Cold War, US citizens have been forbidden to travel to Cuba without a special licence.
‘Cuba?’ I ask with interest, my eyes flitting between Jorge and Leo. ‘Do you have any family there?’
‘Going way back,’ Jorge replies with a grin. ‘My grandparents were Cuban. Leo’s father was, too.’ He glances at Leo, but Leo doesn’t react.
‘What shall we do in Miami, then?’ Marty asks. ‘Any good recommendations?’
Jorge said Leo’s father was Cuban. Past tense. Does that mean he’s dead? It’s not a question I feel comfortable asking.
Later, Marty, Bridget and I find ourselves on our balcony with a bottle of vodka and a couple of cartons of cranberry which we picked up from a nearby off-licence after dinner. We decided to head back here rather than hit another bar. The wind has picked up and we can definitely sense a storm is coming. To my disappointment, it looks like Tegan was right about the dive being postponed.
‘That is so rubbish about tomorrow’s dive,’ I say. I’m squeezed next to Bridget on the swinging seat. Marty is on one of the two wrought-iron chairs, with her bare feet resting on the other.
‘I think your disappointment is greater than ours,’ Marty replies with a knowing look.
Bridget jovially nudges me.
‘Okay, I fancy him. So what?’ I snap, buoyed by the alcohol.
Bridge
t bursts out laughing. ‘Too right!’ She chinks my glass. ‘And why shouldn’t you?’
Marty’s face softens. ‘That’s hilarious.’
‘What is?’ I ask, feeling relief more than anything. It’s nice to be able to come clean and not have the piss taken out of me.
‘I love that you just admitted it,’ Marty says warmly.
I scoff and take another gulp of my vodka cranberry. ‘It’s not like I’m going to do anything about it.’
‘You should just shag him and be done with it,’ Bridget says.
I splutter and almost spit out my drink. ‘I don’t think so!’
‘I would,’ Bridget confesses between giggles.
‘Yeah, I know you would.’ I nod emphatically in the direction of her bedroom inside the apartment. ‘You already did,’ I add.
‘Aw,’ she says fondly, thinking of Carl, before asking Marty, ‘Did you really not shag Tom?’
‘Nope,’ Marty replies casually and I can’t help liking her more for her response. Marty has never slept around. Neither have I. It’s one thing we absolutely have in common.
‘How many men have you slept with?’ I ask Bridget curiously, unable to stop myself.
‘Oh, blimey, I don’t know,’ she replies.
‘You don’t know?’ My voice sounds a little squeaky.
‘She’s lost count,’ Marty says wryly.
Bridget kicks Marty’s foot good-naturedly. ‘I haven’t lost count. I just haven’t counted.’ She glances at me. ‘I don’t know, twenty? Twenty-five? What about you?’ she asks before I can react.
‘Three,’ I reply.
‘Three?’ She giggles. ‘You definitely need to shag Leo, then.’
‘Stop it!’ I slap her thigh.
‘So who were the three?’ she asks.
‘Will, Guy and Matthew,’ Marty butts in on my behalf.
‘Who’s Guy?’ Bridget asks. She knows about Will and Matthew.
I sigh. Guy was a mistake. My one mistake. The only reason I know I may be able to find it in my heart to forgive Matthew. Because I’ve cheated, too. Not on him. On Will. My first love.
I confess this to Bridget.