Page 5 of Adrift

The ferry moored directly outside the restaurant blows its horn, giving people the two-minute warning to get their asses onto the boat.

Ronan bursts out laughing. “Kieran! Well,I’mnot ordering the fish and chips this weekend. Okay, gotta go!”

“Scram. Leave me to get a room with my fish,” I grin, waving as he rushes out to the dock.

The door swings shut behind him, and my smile slips away as I sigh.

It was nice to have the company this morning, but now I’m by myself. It’s not quite late enough for lunch, and certainly too early to be five o’clock somewhere.

This is the worst part of the morning shift: the boredom. At best, I get the occasional islander saying hi as they pick up the daily newspaper from the ferry waiting room. They tell me it gets busier in the summer with lost tourists asking for directions.

But I probably won’t be around for that long.

Not in like, a dark sense. I mean I’ve only got a few months until my working holiday visa expires. I wasn’t planning on staying here for this long anyway.

What if I hate the next place I choose? Isn’t it better to stay somewhere that people know me and like me, even if it’s not perfect?

No. No, it’s not. That’s why I’m out here in the first place. I’ve spent enough time making excuses for the places and people around me. I’m not going to accept anything less than what’s right for me anymore.

I’ve been fidgeting with my phone for the last five minutes, picking it up and putting it down as I debate with myself.

Fuck’s sake, Kieran. Just do it.

Before I can second-guess it, I tap out a quick message to my boss.

KIERAN:

Hey, can we have a chat after my shift today?

BERTY:

Sure, Doug and I are at home all day so swing by!

“All day?” I laugh out loud, carefully hovering over the message to give it a thumbs-up reaction. “As if.”

I think I’m a talkative extrovert, but Berty beats me any day of the week. By the time I’m done my shift, he could be anywhere on the island, talking the ear off anyone.

I know he’s going to be sad to lose me. And I’ll be sad to leave. But… the longer I put it off, the harder it will be to leave in the end. So it’s time to move on and find somewhere else to spend my last months in Canada, before I accidentally put down roots here.

If I’m being really honest,that’swhy I haven’t found anyone: I’ve been trying not to.

The door opens and I snap back into it so fast it surprises even myself.

Bubbly persona back on, smile back in full force to welcome...

Ohhh.

My jaw drops as I stare at the gorgeous newcomer.

They really compacted a lot of fiery sass into five-foot-three when they made me. The guy who just walked in is about a foot taller, which is exactly the right height to hold me off the ground with my legs wrapped firmly around his waist.

And he’s built like a wall. Just standing here in the doorway, his shoulders seem to fill up the whole frame. His black T-shirt, thin hoodie, and jean can’t hide all the muscles threatening to bulge right out.

His hair is short, perfectly straight and chopped a little longer on top. The natural auburn highlights catch the afternoon light, but I bet they’re even more eye-catching in the summer.

His face is squared off with a sharp angled jaw, neatly-trimmed stubble, and thick furrowed brows. He’s one of those people with a naturally grumpy expression, like he’s trying to keep the world at arm’s length.

I bet a real grin from him would light up the whole room.

---