Page 43 of Obsession Under the Southern Stars

“Substrate?”

“A substance that organisms grow on and can use as food. Since it sank, it’s become an ever-changing ecosystem, evolving with new shapes and colors.”

“There are so many anemones and sponges, all pink and blue. And what were those pinky-orange fish with the little beard?”

“Goatfish, with their goatees.”

“They were beautiful. And it’s different further down, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, that’s where the nocturnal fish hang out. Bigeyes and slender roughies. Because of the way it’s resting on the reef, its port side is more exposed to light, so it’s covered in seaweed, but the shaded side doesn’t have so many plants.”

I can totally see why Joel is addicted to this. I can also see why they nickname him Aquaman. He moves fluidly, like a merman, completely at ease in the water, unlike me, who always ends up banging my head or my scuba gear when I try to maneuver myself under a beam or through a gap.

He has removed his wetsuit, and his hair is sticking up in spikes all over his head. He’s wearing his rash vest and skin-tight dive shorts that leave nothing to the imagination, and the tanned skin on his arms glistens with droplets of water, while the sun has turned the hairs golden brown. He looks good enough to eat in more ways than one. He fascinates me. I don’t tell him that, though.

Manu and Hori join us for a sandwich, and then we gear up again ready for the next dive.

The four of us work on peeling back the layers of silt that cover the hull of the Relentless. We gradually reveal two-thirds of the hold, finding a multitude of now-empty crates that must have been filled with foodstuffs or possibly wool. Nothing looks like the purported chest to which the captain referred. Even so,I enjoy every minute of it, from all the photographing to the detailed recording to the scraping and brushing and slow reveal of the objects beneath the silt.

We dive four times today for twenty minutes, with close to an hour in between each dive to rid ourselves of the excess nitrogen that has dissolved into our bodies. During surface intervals you’re supposed to keep warm, too, so I wrap myself in a towel and sit in the sun, but when Joel sees me shivering, he brings over his gray hoodie that says, “Dive hair, Don’t care,” and insists I put it on. I tug it over my head and wear it for the rest of the interval, wondering why I seem to keep ending up in his clothes. While the three guys doze in the sun, I wrap my arms around my knees and bury my nose in the sleeves, inhaling Joel’s ocean scent. Maybe at the end of the day he’ll forget he’s leant it to me, and I can steal it without him noticing.

By the end of the day, when we arrive back at the marina, I’m so exhausted I have trouble getting out of my wetsuit, and Emma has to help me. I try to keep it from Joel, but he notices and scolds me as we make our way back to the car. “You should have said you were getting tired after our third dive.”

“I was enjoying myself and didn’t want to stop.”

“Even so. It’s when you get tired that mistakes creep in, and it’s not good for the body either. You’re going straight to bed when we get in.”

“Not sure I have the energy for sex,” I joke.

“I’m not kidding.” His blue gaze is firm and brooks no argument, and frankly I am too tired to protest.

He parks out the front of the hotel, slings my backpack over his shoulder, and slides an arm around me as we make our way to the villa. I don’t argue, and instead just lean against him. I’m wearing his hoodie again. It’s too big for me, of course, and the sleeves hang over my hands. I lift them to my nose and sniff. He glances at me, but he doesn’t say anything.

When we get inside, he leads me to my room and drops the backpack on the floor. “Get into bed,” he instructs. “I’m going to order something to eat.”

“You’re so bossy,” I grumble.

He just gives me a wry look and goes out.

I sit on the bed, feeling a little guilty at feeling so tired. He’s right; I shouldn’t have gone on that last dive. I’ve spoiled this evening, too. I’m sure he was looking forward to another nice meal.

I drag myself to the wardrobe, take off the hoodie and my shorts and tee, change into a pair of soft, well-worn pink pajamas, then pull his hoodie on over the top. It’s not that cool in the room, but I find it comforting. I go to the bathroom, cleanse my face, and brush my hair, Then I climb into bed and sink back into the pile of pillows.

Within seconds, I doze off.

“Hey.”

I jerk awake. Joel’s standing beside the bed, putting a tray onto the bedside table. Not much time can have passed as it’s still light, although shadows are creeping into the room.

“You need to eat before you go to sleep,” he says, straightening. “It’s just pasta and chicken.”

I sniff. “It smells amazing.” I go to get up, but he indicates for me to stay put.

“I’m not an invalid,” I grumble.

“Do as you’re told.” He passes me the tray, placing it on my lap as I sit up.

“Where’s yours?”

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