Page 9 of Ship Happens

A whistle blows, and the event coordinator calls all couples to the starting line. I count twelve pairs, all gazing adoringly at each other. Then there’s us.

“Welcome to the Lover’s Obstacle Course!” the coordinator announces into a microphone. “You and your partner will tackle eight challenges designed to test your communication, trust, and physical connection.”

Physical connection?

“First up, the Tunnel of Love—you’ll be tied together as you crawl through. Then the Trust Fall, followed by the Heart-to-Heart Balance Beam...”

I stop listening, calculating how many environmental sins I can document to make this humiliation worthwhile.

“Remember,” the coordinator continues, “the winning couple gets a romantic sunset dinner on our private island tomorrow!”

“We’re going to win that,” Ethan whispers.

“Why would I want a romantic dinner with you?”

“Because the private island has the only nesting ground for endangered sea turtles in this part of the Caribbean.” He smiles at my surprised expression. “Did your research miss that?”

Before I can answer, staff members approach with silk scarves, tying us together at the wrist.

“Is this really necessary?” I ask as a twenty-something crew member secures my left wrist to Ethan’s right.

“Absolutely!” he chirps. “It symbolizes the bonds of love!”

“More like the bonds of a hostage situation,” I mutter.

Ethan chuckles. “Think of it as research. Extensive, humiliating research.”

The whistle blows again, and we’re off. The Tunnel of Love turns out to be a long, fabric-covered crawl space. Being tied to Ethan means our coordination is nonexistent—every time I move forward, he yanks me in a different direction.

“Could you—ow!—stop pulling?”

“I’m not pulling, you’re pushing.”

“We need to move together,” I hiss, acutely aware of how that sounds.

“That’s what I’ve been saying.” His grin is insufferable. “On three. One, two...”

We synchronize our movements and make it through the tunnel, stumbling into daylight to applause from the audience. Cameras flash. Ethan waves to the crowd with our bound hands, forcing me to wave too. I contemplate breaking his fingers.

The Trust Fall is next. I’m supposed to close my eyes and fall backward, trusting Ethan to catch me. Not happening.

“I’ll fall first,” he offers, sensing my hesitation.

“Fine.”

He turns his back to me and falls without warning. I catch him—barely—staggering under his weight.

“A little warning next time!”

“I trusted you,” he says innocently. “Your turn.”

I turn around, my back to his chest, and stand rigid.

“Relax,” he murmurs close to my ear. “I won’t drop you.”

“You’d better not.”

I close my eyes and let myself fall backward. His arms catch me securely, strong and steady. The contact is brief but unsettling—I haven’t been this close to anyone in months, and it has to be him?

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