Page 65 of Falling Overboard

I said, “Of course not!” and only worried momentarily about my pants catching on fire and then having to jump into the ocean to put them out.

I’d then arranged for a couple of massage therapists to come on board, which was nice for me because I’d been training in Swedish massage with the intent of getting certified. Increasing my skill set would potentially put me in a position to ask for a salary increase.

My attempt at getting the guests to mellow out through the power of massage failed and had only led to another screaming fight between them.

The one time the guests didn’t fight was when they were sunbathing nude on the sundeck. The exterior crew did their absolute best to be professional under the circumstances, but the women seemed to particularly delight in hounding them and trying to make the guys uncomfortable. The guests didn’t want Georgia, Emilie, and me to serve them when they were on the sundeck—just the men.

I didn’t do what they had asked. I didn’t trust them to not maul the crew if given half a chance. I just put a big, fake smile on my faceand apologized profusely, telling them the exterior crew were far too busy doing other things and that I would do my absolute best to take care of them.

The one thing I did that they actually seemed to enjoy was when I set up the bachelorette party and hired some local male strippers. I was glad that Georgia was on lates that night. So was she, as she’d managed to hook up with one of the strippers, and then proceeded to argue loudly with Emilie that he should count as a temporary crewmember since he had been working on the yacht, which meant Georgia had earned extra points. Emilie strenuously disagreed.

They had been so loud I’d had to shush them for fear of the captain overhearing.

It was like the bachelorette guests were rubbing off on us, making the entire crew snippy and irritable.

Except for Hunter. He’d been the one shining light in all of this.

It started the very first night of the charter, when I had returned to our cabin and was surprised to find him in his bunk.

“What are you doing?” I had asked. “Why aren’t you on anchor watch?”

“Pieter offered to take the night shift.” Pieter had been sexually harassed the least so far out of all the crew, so it was probably a safer choice. “I think he’s doing it to be on the same shift as Georgia. To try and win her heart.”

“I don’t know if that will work out for him,” I said. “She’s the one who told me her heart was black and shriveled and incapable of feeling.”

I knew she’d had a spectacularly bad breakup before she’d joined theMio Tesoro, and so a part of me understood why she’d come up with the list. She didn’t want to care about someone again.

And I understood it because I was in the same boat.

Literally and metaphorically.

“Regardless of whether or not his plan will work, it’s probably better for me to hide out in here for the week,” Hunter said. He was right. We didn’t want to make the guests feel bad by pointing out thatthey couldn’t treat him like a side of beef because it might compromise our tip.

We also couldn’t let our crew be compromised. Hiding seemed to be the best option to avoid an ugly confrontation.

So for the last week, that was what we had done. Hunter and I had watched a different musical together every night, laughing and talking and staying up way too late. I’d been so tired in the mornings but it had been worth it just to be with him.

We didn’t bring up the night we’d fallen asleep together. It was a topic we both avoided.

Which was good because it was better for me if I didn’t dwell on it. It was bad enough that I thought about it every night as he slept above me. What it was like to wake up with him, to have him so close.

To exist with him in a place where the buzzing in my mind turned off and I wasn’t constantly worried about what terrible things might happen.

I had just felt ... peaceful. Content.

Maybe even happy.

But being around him made me feel things in specific places in my body where I was busy trying not to feel anything.

I kept hoping he would do something, anything, that would be a turnoff. Clip his toenails in front of me. Stink up the bathroom. Forget to put on deodorant. Something that might gross me out and give me the ability to move on.

Only it hadn’t happened.

He was considerate and clean and respectful and in every way imaginable an excellent bunkmate. He had even started making my bed for me in the morning. And I hadn’t decided whether that was just thoughtful or a message that he was annoyed with my messiness.

Regardless, his wonderfulness just made everything more difficult.

“Oh no, now what?” Thomas said, bringing me out of my Hunter reverie. I focused my attention on the screen in front of me. Hunter had been walking past the guests until Sasha waved him over.

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