Page 10 of Ship Happens

The Heart-to-Heart Balance Beam is even worse. We have to face each other on a narrow beam, holding hands, and sidestep from one end to the other. Our bound wrists make it extra challenging.

“Eyes on me,” Ethan instructs as we step onto the beam. “Don’t look down.”

I meet his gaze reluctantly. His eyes are an impossible shade that makes the Caribbean Sea look dull by comparison.

“Small steps,” he continues. “I’ve got you.”

We inch along the beam, his grip firm on my free hand. I’m intensely aware of every point of contact between us—our clasped hands, our bound wrists, the occasional brush of knees. I focus on keeping my balance, not on how solid he feels or how his attention never wavers from my face.

We’re midway across when someone in the crowd shouts Ethan’s name. Startled, I wobble, losing my footing. Ethan reacts instantly, pulling me toward him. I crash against his chest as we both lose balance, tumbling off the beam.

We land with a thud on the safety mat below, me sprawled on top of him, our faces inches apart. His arm instinctively wraps around my waist.

“Are you okay?” he asks, sounding genuinely concerned.

I’m pinned against him, acutely aware of his body beneath mine, his heartbeat against my palm where it’s splayed across his chest.

“I’m fine,” I manage. “Just my dignity that’s bruised.”

The crowd whoops and cheers. Someone wolf-whistles. I scramble to get up, but our bound wrists make it awkward.

“Hold still,” Ethan murmurs, shifting to help me untangle. His proximity is dizzying. “Let’s try this again.”

He gets to his feet first, then pulls me up with surprising gentleness. The cameras are going crazy, and I realize what this must look like—me falling into the arms of the man I supposedly hate, our bodies pressed together.

“You did that on purpose,” I accuse under my breath.

“Believe me, if I’d planned it, our landing would have been more graceful.” He brushes imaginary dust from my shoulder. “Ready to continue kicking everyone else’s ass?”

Despite everything, I almost smile at his competitive tone.

We tackle the remaining obstacles with increasing coordination—the Three-Legged Race (we come in second), the LoveLift (where Ethan had to hold me overhead, which he did with exasperating ease), the Whisper Challenge (we fail spectacularly), and finally, the Heart Puzzle (which we complete first, thanks to my pattern recognition skills).

By the last challenge, I’m sweating, laughing despite myself, and forgetting to look like I can’t stand him. The crowd loves it, shouting encouragement as we sprint toward the finish line, still awkwardly bound together.

We cross in first place. The crowd erupts in cheers. Ethan throws our bound hands up in victory, pulling me into a half-hug that catches me off guard. Cameras flash from every angle.

“Congratulations to our winners!” the coordinator announces. “Mr. Cole and Dr. Bennett have earned themselves a romantic sunset dinner!”

Ethan beams at the crowd, then at me, his arm still around my shoulders.

“Get your arm off me,” I mutter through a fixed smile.

“The cameras, sweetheart,” he whispers back. “We’re giving them a show, remember?”

“You’re impossible.”

“The passengers are loving our enemies-to-lovers energy. Look.” He nods toward the crowd, where people are recording us on their phones, whispering excitedly.

“This is insane,” I hiss as we pose for official photos, still bound at the wrist. “I’m a scientist, not a reality TV contestant.”

Ethan leans close, his lips near my ear. “Admit it, that was fun.”

I shove him with my free hand, but there’s less venom in it than there should be. “The only thing I’ll admit is that you’re the most aggravating human I’ve ever met.”

He grins, completely unmoved by my hostility. “Just wait until Tantric Yoga this afternoon.”

“I am not doing yoga with you.”

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