Wet: Part 1

by Rivera, S. Jackson

  oOo

  Rhees spent the day lounging on the deck, watching everyone and reading her assignment—three times. That morning, the deck bustled with what seemed like organized chaos before the dives. Randy, Dobbs, and six of the fourteen students boarded the boat with gear and tanks, and pulled away from the dock before Randy hit the throttle and they raced south.

  The boat came back about three hours later and again, everyone seemed to know exactly what to do—docking the boat, dismantling gear, rinsing gear, schlepping tanks, and putting everything away.

  Rhees began to worry about when she would be expected to join in, and if anyone would show her what to do first. She hated how insecure she always felt. She reminded herself that was why she was here.

  Once the dives and the work associated with it were done, things seemed pretty laid-back at the shop. Except for the way everyone tried to stay out of Paul and Claire’s way, the shop had no real structure in the afternoon. Even the lessons were casual. Students sat in the rectangular gazebo on the deck and listened to their instructors or ran through verbal tests with each other. Others read their own assignments, watched instruction videos in the media room, or just sat around talking.

  The favorite activity at the shop seemed to be logging dives and going through the shop’s ocean wildlife books. People sat at the tables under the gazebo for hours, discussing their dives or trying to identify the creatures they saw while diving that morning.

  There were several mats rolled up and stowed in the eaves of the gazebo that students would pull out and sleep on, right on the deck. Throughout the day, it seemed, almost everyone took a long nap at some point. As the day wore on, the deck began to look like a slumber party, everyone choosing to sleep there where the breeze was best, instead of going home to their stuffy apartments.

  The two hammocks hanging between posts on the side of the shop near the office, right on the edge of the dock, stayed occupied most of the afternoon as well. Rhees didn’t see herself ever trying one out. She’d never been a competent hammock sleeper, and she pictured herself falling out of it, into the water below.

  She couldn’t picture herself using any of the mats either—not with all the perspiration stains on them from years of one after another stranger’s use. She couldn’t allow herself to even think about it without wanting a shower.

  Almost everyone at the shop made it a point to welcome her. Some were friendlier than others. Several more girls told her that Paul would want her, as if she should be flattered. She followed Regina’s advice by not giving away her sexual status again, but she didn’t know what she was supposed to say. She opted to play it modestly.

  “A man that good-looking . . .” she said using their words, “would never be interested in someone as plain as me.”

  She began to be able to distinguish between the girls he had been with, and the ones he hadn’t. The ones she guessed he’d slept with seemed to want to believe her, while the girls who fit into the not-his-type category enthusiastically insisted she was wrong. “You’ll see!” they told her.

  Tracy, always nearby, made sure Rhees knew the life story of each and every person she talked to. Most importantly—to Tracy anyway—which girls Paul had been with and which ones he would never be with, including Regina and herself. Rhees had guessed right almost every time, but she would have preferred it if her roommate would stop throwing out so much information.

  She didn’t know Tracy well enough yet to dare to ask her to stop. It was her first day; she’d be living with the girl for three weeks and Rhees hated confrontations and hurting people’s feelings, something she only did if she was very upset, which she almost never was, and she always regretted it afterward.

  “So, have you still not noticed how good-looking Paul is?” Tracy asked with a smirk.

  “Okay, I admit it. He’s cute,” Rhees smiled. “But I prefer a more clean-cut, businessman look. Paul’s a bit scruffy for me, so you and all the other female students can take me off the list of competition.”

  Tracy groaned, refusing to believe her. Rhees almost felt bad about her attempt to use Tracy’s lack of gab filters to help her cause, but she didn’t doubt word would get around quickly and all the girls would stop talking about Paul getting it on with her. She shuddered at the thought.

  “See that pole about thirty meters out there in the water?” Tracy asked. Most of the people on the island used the metric system and Rhees found it hard to adjust. The pole Tracy pointed to looked to be about a hundred feet away—a good reference, which Rhees committed to memory. “It’s attached to a block of cement under the water.” She leaned down and whispered, “Paul takes girls out there, and they do it.” She giggled.

  “Right there? But everyone can see.” Rhees couldn’t have been more shocked.

  “Not really. You can tell . . . kind of, but it’s far enough away, you can’t really hear or see anything. But knowing Paul, and the way he is, you just know. That’s why everyone calls it Frock.”

  “Frock?”

  “Effing Rock, you know . . .” Tracy giggled again and leaned in to say the word without the codename.

  Rhees felt her face growing hotter. She had the feeling Tracy wished she could give a firsthand account of her own experience on Frock with Paul. “Sometimes he just uses the bathroom.” She giggled again. “Of course he uses the bathroom, but I mean for sex.”

  “You know what, Tracy?” Rhees was beginning to feel upset. “I really don’t want to know any of this.”

  “But, you should know . . . just in case.” Tracy eyed her, sure she would change her mind.

  Rhees put her hands over her ears and gave Tracy a bug-eyed look to assure her it wasn’t going to happen. Hearing the constant predictions of her imminent destiny with Paul, over and over again, freaked her out. She found herself looking his direction, a lot, too much.

  Every now and then, she found him watching her too. He would smile, and she would—more from an ingrained sense of courtesy and habit—smile back, but hurry to look away as she imagined him undressing her with his eyes. She’d never had a man after her—not just for that. She’d never thought much about it before, but now, the first time she’d been so personally confronted by it, she couldn’t stop thinking about it. She felt sick.

  “How’s the new place?” Paul sneaked up on Rhees as she sat on the deck, going over the questions at the end of the second chapter. She’d finally been able to get him off her mind and stop sneaking peeks at him over the top of her book.

  It took her a minute to gather her senses enough to talk. “It’s so cute. It’s perfect. I figure I’ll have to skip a few meals a week to afford it, but I really like it. Thank you.”

  “Good. I didn’t think it would do to have you staying at Strawberry Hill.” Paul sat down next to her and leaned toward her so their shoulders touched. She nervously leaned away. He stared at her a second and then he looked down. He reminded her of a shy little boy—or a wolf in sheep’s clothing. All the things people had said about him were right back in her head again.

  It hadn’t taken her long to figure out why all the girls thought of him as the most beautiful man in the world. All the stolen glances she’d cast his direction had helped, but at the moment, he looked sweet and almost vulnerable, nothing like the sex hound everyone made him out to be. She found it hard to believe all the gossip. Other than his attempts to check her out too, he’d done nothing to make her believe all the other girls . . . but what did she know?

  Where there’s smoke, there’s fire. The words popped into her head. Her mom always said she didn’t like gossip, but when the same thing keeps going around about someone . . .

  You shouldn’t judge people, but that doesn’t mean you should throw discernment out the window either. That’s why we have brains, Rhees. It’s better to be safe than sorry, she’d warned.

  Paul
was tall, she guessed six-foot-two or -three. She had yet to see him wear more than just his swimming trunks, so it was easy to see he was in great shape, muscular, but not the football-player or body-builder kind of muscle. He didn’t have an ounce of fat on his body, so his toned muscles were just hard to miss . . . each and every one of them . . . everywhere.

  Yes, Paul was good-looking enough. His face balanced nicely between the chiseled, rugged features of the stereotypical movie star handsome while being just soft enough to make him feel approachable. He wore his light brown hair with natural, sun-kissed highlights, shoulder length, slightly curly and kind of shaggy but it all somehow stayed tucked behind his ears on the sides while his sideburns blended into the scruffy beard on his face. Cute, but not her type, Rhees reminded herself.

  “That’s a pretty swimming suit—very unique.” Paul said, looking her over.

  “Um, thanks.” Rhees had been feeling out of place about her swimming suit all morning. All the other girls wore bikinis, even the heavier girls who she thought might look better if they weren’t showing so much . . . skin.

  Darn Utah. Everyone at home wore modest swimming suits. Tankinis and one-piece swimsuits were the norm. She brought three to the island, and not one bikini, as if she would dare to wear one anyway. “I was worried I looked weird . . . compared to everyone else.” She wondered why she’d said it and wanted to kick herself. She always pointed out her faults, making sure no one missed them.

  “Maybe that’s what I like about you. You’re different.” He put his hand on her back in a reassuring gesture but she tensed up and jerked away.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she squeaked. She cleared her throat, but she couldn’t relax. She told herself to calm down before he realized she was crazy, but then she thought that might be a good thing. He wouldn’t want to sleep with a crazy girl. Even after he removed his hand, she could still feel his handprint on her skin. She couldn’t get her nerves to settle.

  “It’s normal to be a little nervous about diving,” Paul said. “I think nerves keep us sharp—safe. They remind us to respect the sport, respect the ocean. But you’re going to be okay. I haven’t lost a student yet.” He chuckled and then turned his gaze to the ocean. He looked back with a warm smile. “If you’d like, I could take you out to do a Discovery Dive tonight, after the shop closes. Do you know what that is?”

  She shook her head.

  “I can take people who aren’t certified, for a one-time diving experience—just to see if they like it. It gives them an opportunity to see if they want to go ahead before plunking down all their money to get certified. You’d be perfectly safe. I wouldn’t leave your side.”

  She stared at him, not knowing what to say. She thought a Discovery Dive sounded great. Just the thing she needed to get her over her fears. But the thought of being alone with him scared her to death.

  “Um . . . everyone’s been telling me I have to eat at Ray’s tonight.” She was grateful to have what sounded like a good excuse.

  “Oh. Yeah. Wednesday.” He looked out over the ocean again. He seemed disappointed. He turned back and his right eye did the almost-wink thing. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to get you wet later then.”

  “Yeah, that would be good. That’s why I’m here.” She tried to sound convincing, to herself as well as Paul.

  His eyes grew wide with amusement, and he grinned. He winked for sure with his left eye.

  “I’d hate to think I spent the last of my dad’s—my money—on a dream I chickened out on.”

  He got up and left, but Regina didn’t waste time getting to her. “What are you doing?” She glanced around the deck like a secret agent, making sure no one could tell what they were talking about. “You act like an idiot every time Paul gets close to you. Someone is going to start wondering why—the way you tense up just speaking to that man?”

  “I can’t help it. I didn’t know what to do.” Rhees leaned into Regina and whispered, “He offered to take me on a Discovery Dive. He’s trying to get me alone.”

  Regina stared at her blankly. “He wants to jump them bones of yours, but that doesn’t make him a rapist. You need to chill. He is going to try to charm you into that bed of his, not knock you out and hop on!”

  Rhees blushed, absorbing the shame her roommate dished out. It wasn’t just Paul. Rhees always got nervous around touchy men. “So how should I act, then?”

  “Grow up, and stop acting like a stupid thirteen-year-old schoolgirl.” Regina marched off. “Act normal!”

  “Normal. Somehow I missed that subject in school,” Rhees said under her breath. She sighed. She’d thought things were complicated in Utah. She’d always imagined growing up in Utah was similar to living on an alien planet. She’d dreamed of getting away from it, but the island was turning out to be more complicated than anything she’d ever experienced. I’m not Utahan enough for Utah, but I’m too Utahan for the rest of the world.

  Chapter 3

  Rhees followed Tracy and Regina to Ray’s for dinner, where they met up with most of the dive shop crew. According to everyone, Ray served the best food on the island, but he only opened on Wednesday and Saturday nights. The students at the shop never entertained any thought of eating anyplace else on Wednesdays.

  She stood back from the counter in the outdoor restaurant and looked over the menu while the others stepped up to place their orders. There were only three options scribbled on a chalkboard, and the cost was higher than she expected. She wondered why everyone thought this was the must-eat place.

  Here twenty-four hours and I’ve already blown my budget. At this rate, I’ll be going home in a week. She laughed at herself for worrying about spending literally pennies more than she’d anticipated, but it would still become a problem in the end if she didn’t find a way to be more careful.

  She ordered the chicken and followed her new friends to a table.

  “We’re lucky to find seats together,” Tracy said. “This place fills up fast.”

  Rhees couldn’t see many empty chairs. The three of them were seated at a large table with others from the dive shop crowd.

  Krista, one of the girls at the table, gasped. “Paul cut his hair, and he’s clean-shaven!”

  Rhees looked to see for herself as the other girls chattered on about Paul’s new look. The guys at the table seemed to tolerate the discussion as though discussing Paul happened often, and they were used to it.

  When Rhees’ gaze found him, their eyes met. One of the corners of his mouth hitched up slightly, timidly, until she smiled back to be friendly. His smile grew to mammoth proportions, making his eyes sparkle, but then he looked away when he stepped up to the counter to place his order.

  She thought the haircut a definite improvement, even if some of the other girls disagreed. The hair over his ears, now gone to a more businessman style, but the hair on top still had enough length to allow his waves to do their thing. He appeared to be a wash-and-towel-dry guy, no styling, but it worked on him. With longer hair, she hadn’t noticed his cowlick. The hair on his forehead on the right side of his face swept up naturally. She’d known one kid in elementary with a cow-lick and it made him look goofy. Paul’s cowlick didn’t look goofy at all. It was—she rolled her eyes that she would think it—endearing.

  She’d never seen him in clothes. He wore jeans and brown leather flip-flops with a white button-up shirt, the sleeves rolled up. His shark tooth necklace lay against the base of his throat, where his shirt opened to his chest. His shirttails hung over his waist, accentuating his broad shoulders and long torso.

  She tried, but didn’t do a very good job of not looking his way as he ordered his food. He turned and headed toward their table with, not just one beer, but one in each hand. She felt him staring at her again. Back home, under normal circumstances, she would be flattered to ha
ve a man as good-looking as Paul paying attention to her.

  At home, it wouldn’t mean what everyone here had adequately convinced her it meant. Knowing the reality of here made her want to get up and run out. People crowded around the table, leaving no empty chairs. Paul would have to sit somewhere else, and she felt relieved to know she wouldn’t have to worry about what he would say to her all through dinner, waiting for him to ask her to . . .

  She would have missed it had she not been watching at the right moment, but Paul looked the guy sitting next to her in the eye. She tried to remember his name. Eddie. Some kind of unspoken communication passed between the two of them.

  “I just remembered I have a question for Dobbs. I think I’ll go eat with him and Claire,” Eddie said, jumping up. He grabbed his drink and left, leaving the chair next to Rhees vacant. Paul sat down and guzzled half of his first beer.

  Rhees blushed as she noticed a few raised eyebrows around the table. She squirmed and fidgeted with her drink. Surely the socializing thing came so naturally to everyone except her. Being the new girl was hard enough without adding the fact that everyone acted like a pack of wolves, waiting for Paul to go in for the kill. His arrival became excruciatingly awkward—given what he apparently wanted to do to her.

  And she still didn’t know how everyone knew his intentions. He’d been nothing but kind. Her nerves grew increasingly raw, not knowing what to expect.

  oOo

  Dinner on the island lasted hours. All the restaurants notoriously took their time, and everyone just grew to accept it as the norm, using the time to socialize and drink.