Sea Legs

by Nina Hatch

Damn, he looks good.

  Even the sun seems to have a fixation with Jake, the light caressing every defined muscle of his broad chest, rays sparkling through the water droplets clinging to his inky black hair. I catch myself imagining what it would be like to run my tongue down his chest, dipping below the water level to taste him. He’s bigger than any of the guys I’ve ever dated, and I’m longing to feel the weight of his body pressing down on me with an ache so intense I can’t even recognize it.

  “Come into the water with me,” Jake says, holding out a hand. “I promise I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

  I’d almost forgotten that he was asking me to put myself in mortal peril.

  “C’mon, when’s the last time you took a little risk?”

  “About a month ago when I let some stranger come to my sister’s wedding with me.”

  He lets out a throaty laugh. “Alright, I’ll let you have that one. Why not give it a try, though? The water is shallow here, see? You can still see my feet touching the bottom.”

  Seeing him glisteny and wet like this — a myth of Poseidon come to life — I realize there isn’t much I wouldn’t try. I take a look for myself, noting the mild swells playing around his hips.

  He’s in nature’s equivalent of a kiddy pool.

  With a resigned sigh, I kick off my sandals and wade in slowly, the cool aquamarine water lapping at my ankles. Jake takes both my hands, holding them in his as he guides me in deeper.

  “Let’s start with treading water,” he says, showing me how to peddle my feet and circle my arms.

  I make an attempt at it, and I can’t believe I’m actually able to keep myself afloat, even though my toes keep reaching for where I can touch the bottom. I’m trying to analyze the circles my arms are making, my flailing fingers trailing through the water, but Jake pulls my attention back to him.

  “So, Olivia Quinn, you’re a talented designer, a clumsy yacht stew, and an exhibitionist. What else should I know about you?”

  “That’s not true,” I squeal, sending a splash his way.

  “Really? It seems to me you were pretty okay with making a scene when I had you pinned against my hand in the laundry room yesterday,” he says, that wolfish glint sparkling even more against the crystal clear water. I can’t pretend it doesn’t turn me on.

  “No! That was the first time I’d ever —”

  “Wait, don’t tell me you’ve never had an orgasm before,” he interrupts with a smirk.

  I blush. That wasn’t what I meant, but it also wasn’t entirely untrue. “No, it’s not that, I mean, well, I guess I haven’t had one like that,” I say quietly. “I can get there when I’m by myself, I just…I’ve never actually had a…an orgasm with anyone else.”

  “What? That’s unacceptable. Turn this yacht around, I need to go find Connor — and anyone else you’ve ever dated — and punch him right in the dick.”

  “It’s okay, it’s not the most important thing,” I mutter, even though my mind is playing back my time with Jake in the laundry room in slow motion technicolor.

  “Damn. You have been with some real idiots,” he says, shaking his head. I can tell he has more to say, but he allows for a change of topic in a more chivalrous manner than I’d expect. “So, were you born in Manhattan?”

  I latch onto the chance to divert from my limited sexual history. “I was. Classic Upper East Side upbringing, born and raised on unreasonable expectations, passive aggressive bickering, and high-end vermouth.”

  “Unreasonable expectations, huh? Is that why you let me come with you to your sister’s wedding? You just needed any warm body?”

  “Pretty much. We do a lot of lying and stretching the truth in the Quinn family. For the wedding, I needed someone to fill the role of Prince Charming, and you were there for me. I guess I never did properly thank you for that.”

  What I didn’t want to tell him was that he was filling the role of Prince Charming every night in my dreams as well.

  “Well,” he says, “I don’t come from any family traditions, but what I can promise you is that I’ll never lie to you.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. Go on. Try me.”

  “Alright, I’ll bite. If you live in Schiaro, what were you doing at a hotel there three weeks ago?” I ask him.

  “I go to the Vincent for…special occasions,” he says.

  I pinch my eyes closed. “Okay, I get it, say no more.”

  Of course.

  The hotel was his fucking ground, that’s what he was after when he picked me up. I already knew that’s the only reason he talked to me, so why did it bother me to know that there had been other pretty tourists before me? And why did I feel like a storm cloud was settling over my brain to think about the fact that there would be many more after me?

  “So, where do you actually live?” I ask, trying to move on.

  “I have a boat. It’s in a little cove that no one docks in anymore.”

  “You live on a boat?”

  “I know, it’s pretty strange, right?”

  “Not at all. That’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever heard. You can go anywhere you want, anytime you want? I can’t even imagine what that kind of freedom must feel like.”

  “Well, the boat isn’t exactly functioning right now. It needs a little work before I can take her out again.”

  “I’m sure you can fix it, it seems like you can fix anything,” I say, but he won’t quite meet my eyes. He’s looking up at the seagulls swooping and dipping above us in the wind, riding every breeze. “They’re beautiful when they fly,” I say, “not so much when they land on your hamburger and finish off your fries.”

  Jake laughs. “What’s not to like? They’re resourceful is all. They know something good when they see it, but they never linger. Enjoy it in the moment and trust that the future will provide.”

  “Spoken like a true player,” I say. I try to keep the melancholy out of my voice, but I don’t think I quite carry it off.

  He pauses at that, looking deep into my eyes. “I know I’ve been bothering you on the yacht, Liv. I’m screwing up your schedule and I get it. Don’t worry, though, I’ll finish up on the cabin tonight and by tomorrow I’ll be out of your hair, I promise.” If I’m not mistaken, his voice might sound a little sad as well, his bright eyes clouding over.

  I look away, biting my lip to shut myself up, to not say what I’m thinking.

  The truth is, I don’t want Jake out of my hair. In fact, I very much want my fingers in his hair, tangling through the strands and pulling his head tight between my thighs, feeling the stubble on his jaw there, just a little bit scratchy and rough.

  When I look back at him again, Jake is back to wearing his signature grin. “God, I wish you could see what I see right now,” he says. “You are so beautiful when you’re brave.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Look at you. Look at where you are.”

  I hadn’t even noticed that he’d guided me much further out from the shore than where we started. My feet were far from able to touch the sandy bottom, but I find that I’m no longer scared.

  Instead, I feel powerful. My arms are still circling effortlessly, my feet kicking as though it’s instinct. I’m not fighting against the ocean anymore, not afraid the waves are out to swallow me up. I feel connected to the water, present in a way I never have before. For the first time, I wasn’t thinking about what I needed to do in the next month or in the next five years, just about calming my mind, staying afloat here and now.

  Jake’s eyes meet mine in what feels like one eternal moment.

  Before either of us can speak, the velocity of the moment sweeps us up in it, our lips crashing together with a fierce hunger. My pulse races as Jake pulls me against his body, our tongues colliding, hoping we can say everything we’re holding back from each other with this one kiss.

  Jake presses me close to his body, taking over to keep us both afloat, even though inside I feel like I’m being su
cked down into a spinning whirlpool — and I love it.

  My fear has dissolved, washed away in the sea.

  The only thing I’m afraid of right now is what will happen when we have to stop kissing.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jake

  “Damn,” I groan, breaking away from Olivia’s lips.

  I shoot a glare at the tinny alarm going off on Olivia’s phone back on the shore. From where we’ve drifted to in the water, we can barely hear it, but we both know that the sound of that alarm means we’re already late.

  The Venus will be steering around the island this afternoon to dock on the opposite side of Capri, which has to be a massive headache for the crew, but the bachelorettes will be closer to Marina Piccola when they finish their evening out, and they insisted on not walking all the way back to Marina Grande in their Louboutins to meet the ship. Unless we want to hike across the entire island to catch the boat on the other side, we have to leave right now.

  We try to hurry, but Olivia and I can hardly keep our lips off each other, yanking on our clothes and pulling each other close as we trip and stumble through the sand. It’s gotta be pure muscle memory that brings us back to the gangway of the Venus, because I can’t drag my eyes away from Olivia.

  Somehow, we make it onboard without anyone seeing us, and I feel the engines roar to life under our feet the moment we hit the deck. I raise a conspiratorial eyebrow at her, and Olivia understands my signal in an instant. We set off in a clumsy race, Olivia giggling, me nearly growling with lust as we sprint toward the unoccupied guest cabin I’ve been working in for the last couple days.

  I don’t even know if we shut the door all the way when we slam into the empty room, all I know is that I need to stuff down the sinking feeling I have in my gut at the thought of saying goodbye to Olivia tomorrow, and the only way to do that is to focus on how I plan to ravage her with my tongue right now.

  “You really are a natural at swimming, Liv. Maybe next time I can teach you the breast stroke,” I say, teasing her nipple through her white bikini top.

  She lets out a half laugh, half moan against the stubble of my jaw, spinning us toward the walk-in shower. Olivia fumbles to turn on the faucet, and my hands go to the tiny string tied around her neck that is the only barrier keeping me from her bare skin. I tear at it savagely, almost angry at the fabric for keeping my lips from her breasts, and Olivia squeals at the shock of cool air against her body, ducking into the shower stream and pulling me with her.

  I graze my teeth along the length of her neck before kissing her again, harder this time, as the warm water trickles down her face. She tastes like hibiscus and something citrusy I can’t quite put my finger on.

  I want to put my finger on it.

  My hands go to her head, massaging her scalp while my lips move lower, my tongue swirling down her collarbone. Olivia’s body goes rigid as her fingers find the hard outline of my cock, and this time, I don’t try to stop her. She gasps when I thumb across her nipple, barely able to catch her breath in the rising steam but begging for more, her eyes closed, body arching into mine.

  Knock, knock, knock.

  “— Liv? Are you in there?”

  Lucy’s voice is close, and I can see her eye peeking through the crack of the cabin door. Olivia jumps in a panic as I hit the water, turning off the shower.

  Fuck. I like Lucy. It’s too bad I’m going to have to kill her. That, or get a good recipe from her for how best to serve blue balls.

  The taste of Olivia’s lips is still on my tongue, and she snatches her clothes from where they were thrown on a chair, wrapping a towel around her body in one smooth motion. The expression on her face is one of sheer terror, and I can’t help but chuckle as she runs out of the bathroom.

  “Oh Lucy, please don’t tell anyone about this,” Olivia pleads.

  Lucy is laughing. “Come on, Liv, you don’t even want to know how many times I’ve been caught in this same situation,” I hear her saying outside the door as I finish toweling off. “Besides,” she continues, “I talked to Claire yesterday and heard all about how Jake’s the worst, you’re not interested in him, you’re going to stay away from him, don’t ask you about it, y’know, the whole litany of denial. So this is pretty much what I was expecting to walk in on.” Lucy peeks her head around the doorframe to wink at me. “Hiya Jake. Sorry about this.”

  “It’s fine, but you owe me,” I scowl, scrubbing the plush towel against my head.

  “I’m so embarrassed. I promise it’ll never happen again,” Olivia says, stepping into the uniform she had stashed in her beach bag, stress pitched high in her voice. She’s dressed in under an instant, twisting her hair into a wet bun on top of her head.

  “Your secret’s safe with me,” Lucy says, “I could use your help in the galley, though, that’s why I was coming to find you. The ladies want cake after they get back from clubbing on the island tonight and I’m short a few ingredients for the frosting. We’re docking in a couple minutes on the other side of Capri, so I’m going to run ashore for some butter and gelato, but I have the cake in the oven now and I need someone to watch it.”

  “I’m on it,” Olivia says. She leans back into the bathroom to throw me a quick nervous wave before speeding off to follow Lucy down the hall.

  I groan. With my stiff cock, I’m pretty damn uncomfortable, and I’m taking my time pulling on my jeans when I hear the faint sound of yelling. Lifting the towel Olivia dropped in her panic, I see she left her radio headset on the chair and it’s crackling with noise. Putting the headpiece to my ear, I hear Teddy’s voice, shouting in panic.

  “ALL CREW, ALL CREW, impending dock collision, port side. Brace for impact, all crew!”

  I grab my shirt and start to run, taking the stairs two at a time, racing to the scene on deck.

  Without even saying a word to Kevin or Teddy, I grab one of the abandoned ropes coiled beside them and start pulling, reeling the bow of the Venus in toward the pier to try to counterbalance the stern from slamming into the dock.

  The muscles in my back and biceps strain with the effort, and I can hear the ship creak and groan as we work to shift her momentum. The wind is whipping in all directions — the Venus must have been coming in too fast when the currents caught them off guard.

  I’m able to haul in the line, tying it off with a swift cleat hitch knot, hoping it will hold strong enough to give us some leverage when I run to the next unattended line and tug even harder.

  Pulling together, we’re able to spin the Venus slightly on her axis, and that’s all it takes. The ship slowly stills and comes to rest in the now calm water as though nothing ever happened. Once we manage to get her fully tied off and secured in the Capri marina, Kevin collapses against the guardrail of the deck, sweat shining on his brow.

  “Thank Christ you came,” Teddy says, looking at me with relief in his eyes. “The thrusters went out and I don’t know what we would have done without you.”

  “We would have had to pay for a new dock, that’s what we would have done,” Captain Todd says, coming down from the bridge. He too is dripping with sweat. “That wind nearly did us in.”

  The rest of the Venus crew also comes out on deck to see what the shouting over the radio was about, but the only one I see is Olivia.

  With a start, I realize that she is who I was thinking about when I found the strength to keep pulling the ship in — keeping Olivia safe was the only thing that mattered in that moment. But now she’s staring at me like I’m some kind of a hero instead of a good quick fuck. Olivia’s eyes are smiling, brimming with trust, maybe even pride. It’s a look that almost makes me feel like I’m worth something — and it scares the shit out of me.

  Everything seems frozen, surreal, like it’s just the two of us in the eye of a storm, and I’m terrified that if I stop looking into the deep green portals of her irises, she’s going to be swept away into this hurricane that’s constantly raging around me.

  Instead of getting her out of my s
ystem like I planned, I’m afraid I’ve let Olivia slip into my bloodstream, and she’s not safe there. I never set out to be anyone’s protector. In fact, being around me has been the equivalent of having a death wish.

  “How did you know what to do back there?” Kevin asks, shaking me from my thoughts.

  “I used to sail,” I say, wiping off my hands and stepping away. Only now do I realize how much it pains me to use the past tense. I’d forgotten how much I loved steering my own ship.

  The bachelorette party should be back soon for dessert and drinks, so the Venus crew starts dividing up responsibilities and shuffling around again, giving me an easy exit. I shoot Teddy a quick salute and make my way back down toward the guest cabins. I still have a lot of work to do to get the trim and panels varnished and ready for when the Venus docks back in Schiaro tomorrow, and even though every sinew in my body is straining to take Olivia into my arms, to know she’s safe, I know I need to keep away from her tonight if I stand any chance of getting through the inevitable goodbye of tomorrow.

  She’ll be leaving for a high-powered job in Manhattan in September, and I’ll be stuck in Schiaro forever, going nowhere and doing nothing. Better to accept that now than to send myself careening off on my own collision course — there will be no ‘Jake’ there to save me from crashing into the dock.

  With all the finishing touches I still had to put on the panel job, I never make it to sleep. I stayed up all night, not only working, but also thinking. Thinking about me and Liv and whatever bullshit future I started to let myself believe in, whatever fantasy where I could make her stay with me, even though all the answers that matter can be found in my past.

  I know better than this — better than to trust or to hope. I learned it over and over again. I learned it every time I’d get myself ready for school in the morning and come out of my room to find my mom actually awake and wearing a smile. I was so stupid that I always let myself smile with her. She’d be standing over the stove, making burnt pancakes, promising that it was going to be different this time. This time she’d stay sober. This time we were going to be a real family. This time we were going to have birthday parties and trips to the zoo, and trading cards bought for a few quarters at the arcade, and dinner on the table, and heat at night. I’d hurry off to school, telling my friends they could come over to my house for a sleepover this time, that my mom said we can order pizza. But then, by the time I’d get home from school, my mom was gone. Sometimes she was gone for a day, sometimes for a week, but always gone. And when my mom came home again, always looking thinner, weaker, she’d make the same empty promises all over again.