Page 112 of Reel Love

I tug her toward me, kissing her temple.

I could say so many things in an attempt to assure her I’ll be here to help her navigate any storm, or I could tell her I’ll never let her capsize. Instead, I hold her. She releases the tiller and leans into me, resting her head on my shoulder. I hold on to her while I take over steering. We remain like that the rest of the sail to the spot where we anchor.

We’ve played games together, bantered, eaten meals and kissed. Holding her today feels like the most important and intimate time we’ve shared. Ever since I met Alana in person, and even during our conversations on the game once we started chatting more openly, it’s been obvious she needs someone she can truly lean on. Everywhere she turns someone wants a piece of her. She’s told what to do and who to be. She doesn’t truly belong to herself.

With me, she can be anyone she needs to be. All her moods, her struggles, her silliness, her silence—I’m here for it all. I can give her a place to relax, to fall apart, to be held. I will never take for granted the privilege of being that man for her as long as she allows me to be.

I anchor the boat and drop the sails.

We strip to our swimsuits and I grab snorkels, masks, and diving fins. I drop off the edge of the boat first.

My head surfaces and I shout, “Woooo! It feels great!”

Alana dives in right after me. It shouldn’t surprise me howfearless she is, but I’m still blown away by the way she takes on new experiences, literally jumping in with both feet.

Her head pops up and she has a huge smile on her face.

“Are you good to go under with the snorkel? If not, you can stay at the surface.”

“I can go down.”

“I’m not surprised. I thought you’d be up for a snorkel.”

I pop my snorkel in and she follows suit. Then I dive under, giving a few strong kicks of my fins to propel me toward my nursery.

Alana kicks up beside me and I point. She looks in the direction where a kelp forest sways with the current, our native orange Garibaldi fish swim by in a school, darting around us along with silvery anchovy, and blue-silver mackerel.

But that’s not what I want to show her.

We surface and blow the water out of our snorkels. I dive back under and she follows. Then I point to the PVC “trees” scattered and tethered along the reef. Alana nods, her face bunching in confusion. I swim closer. She pops up, then dives back under to rejoin me. When we’re both a few feet from my nursery, I point to the clusters of coral sitting on and dangling from each “branch” of my plastic trees. Then I swim up and Alana joins me above the surface of the water. I take my snorkel out and she does too.

“What are those?” she asks.

“It’s my coral nursery. I’m helping replenish damaged reefs.” I smile over at her with the smile of a proud parent, or probably it’s more like the smile of a kid at parent-teacher night, proudly showing off his science project.

“That’s amazing, Stevens. So, this is your secret project?”

“It is.”

“I want to hear all about it,” she says.

“Later. Let’s enjoy the water while we’re here. I’m dying to see if we can spot some unique marine life while we’re down there.”

Alana smiles at me, pops her snorkel back in and we both diveback underwater, swimming together in my private section of the island for a few hours.

After we finish swimming and dry off, we take towels up to the bow of my boat. We’re laying side-by-side, the sun warming us while the gentle breeze keeps us from overheating. My hand seeks Alana’s and she laces our fingers together, rubbing her thumb across my skin. We’re silent, sharing the unique brand of contentment that comes from spending time under the ocean’s surface.

I shared my passion project with her and she asked questions when we first climbed back on board. I answered all of them—about my funding, the purpose of replenishing coral, why the reefs are endangered. I love that she cared enough to ask.

“I love your coral nursery,” she says in a drowsy voice. “It’s so amazing that you dedicated your free time to raise funds to build something that will bless people for generations to come. You’re saving sea turtles and so much more.”

I turn my head and smile over at her. “You make it sound more monumental than it is.”

“You don’t take enough credit for how amazing you are.”

“I guess you’ll just have to keep telling me.”

I prop myself up on my elbow and lean over her and kiss her. Her lips are warm and soft from the sun and she tastes like salt and sea breeze and sunshine and the best dream I ever woke up remembering.

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