Page 68 of The Best Wild Idea
He bursts into laughter, seemingly unbothered and unchanged by what unfolded last night. He seems as carefree as he always does.
I watch him squeeze sunblock onto his hands, even though the sky is gray, and he rubs it up and down both forearms, pulling up his sleeves to slather it onto his shoulders, tendons rippling each time he moves his fist up and down.
I look away, biting my bottom lip.
What the hell has gotten into me?
“You can do bare feet on the deck. I’d prefer that you didn’t trip over flip-flops when the boat tips,” he says, not bothering to look up.
“Tips?”
He stops what he’s doing to stare at me. His nose and forehead are still painted white.
“You missed a spot.” I point, scrunching my face at him while I wave my hand around. “Okay, you missed a lot of spots.”
He doesn’t move. It’s like he hasn’t heard me.
“What?” I ask.
“How much sailing have you seen?”
“I’ve watched sailing,” I say, defiantly. “Like, from the shore. And once on TV.”
“But you didn’t know the boat tips?” he asks, looking concerned.
Now he hasmeworried. But, in true Silas form, he manages to crack a smile and continues rubbing in the sunscreen, now looking like a cat that ate the canary. Like I’m in for some type of secret reveal later on.
“I really just plan to sit there and enjoy the view,” I assure him. “Do you think there will be dolphins?”
I toss aside the sandals I’d been planning to wear and start searching for a pair of sneakers with good tread.
“Dolphins?” he repeats.
“Kidding?” I answer, weakly.
“No, you’re not.”
“No, I wasn’t. But I think I am now?”
“We’re going to need to give you a crash course in what to expect while you’re on the deck so you’re not hit off the side by the boom. Or worse.”
“What’s worse than getting hit off the side by a boom? And what’s aboom?”
“What’s a boom?” he repeats, looking absolutely gutted that I didn’t take one single minute of time to prepare for our little sailing adventure.
In all fairness, I really just pictured myself sprawled out across the front of the bow in a cute swimsuit, hanging on to a rope or something.
“Do you mean I’ll hit the water with aboom.” I clap loudly, like something’s just hit me off the front of a boat. “Or . . . ?”
“It’s the long log thing that swings back and forth and knocks people off. Anchors the sails.” He smacks one hand into the other, like one is knocking the other over. “Boom!”
“Oh, God.” I swallow. “Named appropriately then.”
He glances at his watch.
“We should go. I’ll explain on the way.”
Silas steers me toward the marina from behind while I walk and watch a few quick sailing lesson videos on my phone the whole way there. Thankfully, the rain has cleared up and the sun is peeking out of a strip of white puffy clouds. Turns out, there’s a lot more to know about sailing than how to look pretty on the front while admiring the view, and by the time we arrive at the marina, I’m feeling a bit more prepared.
