Page 66 of Didn't See That Coming

The kitchen is small and nowhere near as impressive as the rest of the yacht. Instead of polished wood and warm yellow lights, it’s all about being functional: bright halogen, steel countertops, ceramic floors. There’s a man inside, presumably the chef, who jumps to attention when we enter.

“They want to cook the fish themselves,” the bartender calls out from behind us.

“Sure, just give it here for me to clean,” the chef says, but Liam shakes his head.

“Is it okay if we clean it ourselves?”

The chef hesitates. “Are you sure? It’ll be a dirty job.”

Liam shrugs. “Yeah, if that’s okay? I don’t want to create more work for you.”

“Not a problem!” The chef quickly opens cupboards, taking out various tools before setting them on the countertop. “Do you need me to stay and help with anything?”

This time, I’m the one who speaks up, and I do it before I even realize what I’m saying. “No.”

They all look at me, making me squirm. That was way too eager, wasn’t it?

“Thank you,” Liam says to the chef, who nods and leaves us alone in the tiny kitchen. Liam turns back to me. “Ready?”

“Please. I was born ready.” Wow, that was so clichéd. Where is this cheesiness coming from?

“Right. Let’s put these on…” Liam tosses an apron at me before deftly putting one on himself. I’m still struggling to tie mine behind my back by the time he’s done. “Here, let mehelp you with that.”

I almost say no—it’s my habit to turn down any offers of help—but I clearly need someone to tie the apron behind me. My fingers have turned into sausages, probably from nerves. Wordlessly, I nod and turn my back to him. Liam tugs at the apron strings. There is slight pressure from the front as he tightens the strings, and suddenly, my heartbeat and my breath sound super loud in the enclosed space. His knuckles brush against the small of my back for just a split second, but it’s enough to set off a line of flame coursing up my back. I’m sure my neck and ears have turned red now. I swallow, thegulp deafening in the silence. I bite my lip. Is he aware that he touched me, and what kind of effect his touch had on me? Is he blushing as well? He’s so close to me that I feel his breath, his warm exhale, caressing my neck. Just when I’m about to lose it and whip back around to grab his face in both hands and give him the world’s hottest kiss, he says, “Done.”

It takes a second before I gather myself enough to turn around and face him, and even then, I keep my eyes on the floor, because I don’t trust that I won’t pounce on him if I look at his hotness right now. “Thanks,” I mumble. Is it just me or is Liam lingering just a touch longer than normal? There’s only about an inch separating us, his nearness an ache I need to resolve. Then he clears his throat and takes a step away from me, and that single step is enough to break the spell.

“Okay, let’s do this.” He rubs his palms together. I chance a glance at him and am both relieved and disappointed that he’s not looking at me. He crouches next to the bucket, takes a deep inhale, and reaches in for the fish. “Argh, argh. Oh god, this feels so weird.” He lifts, and we both squawk when the fish thrashes in his hands, panic reviving it from its temporary snooze. Droplets of water splash here and there from the silver blur in Liam’s hands. “Help!”

I rush forward and reach out as well, but all my instincts are telling me to stay away from the flailing thing, and I have to consciously make myself grab the fish. My fingers brush against it, and I squawk and fall backward. My shoes slip on the floor, and before I know it, the room is swinging and I fall. My brain hasn’t even had time to register the pain—it’s still dazed from the fall—when there’s a loudsplatand a wet,flip-flopping, writhing mass smacks right next to my head. The fish’s tail slaps my forehead as it wriggles frantically, and I half scream, half laugh.

“Oh god! Oh god, oh god—” Liam lunges for the fish, catches it, loses his grip, and the fish lands a foot away from me before he catches it once more and throws it back in the bucket. He crouches next to me, out of breath. “Are you okay?”

I can only blink in confusion.

“Come here, let me help you up.” He holds out his hand and I accept it, noting even in my daze how big it is and how gentle his grip is. I let him pull me up, but just then, the yacht dips to one side and I end up falling straight into his arms. “Oof!”

“Sorry!” Already I’m pushing away, but his arms only tighten around me. I glance up, surprised, a question almost out of my mouth when I realize how close our faces are to each other’s. So close that I can see a tiny freckle just under his left eye. So close that I can feel his heart beating against my chest. Or maybe it’s my own heart, thumping against my rib cage hard enough to crack it.

Liam’s expression is unreadable, his gaze soft as it takes me in, a world of sweetness swirling behind it. “Kiki,” he murmurs, his eyes dipping to my lips.

The door bursts open and the chef rushes in. “Is everything oka—” His mouth hangs open as he takes in the small space, Liam and I caught in an embrace, and, now I’m realizing, the kitchen covered in spatters of sea water. “Oh no,” the chef moans. “My kitchen! This is so unhygienic. Please, letme clean up.” He scuttles around, moving pots and pans with a lot more noise than necessary, clearly as a hint for us to get the hell out of here.

Liam and I break apart guiltily. I can’t even look anyone inthe eye. “Sorry.”

“So sorry. We’ll get out of your way.” Liam hesitates with the bucket. “Uh, the fish—”

“I’ll take care of it.” With that, the chef practically pushes us out the door.

We’re barely out of the kitchen when the door slams shut. Welp. We glance at each other, and there’s so much in our gazes that I immediately break the eye contact.

“Kiki.” His voice is so heavy with emotion that it pulls me back to him. I look up into his eyes. “I just wanted to—”

“Yo, you guys done with the fish-icide yet?”

For the second time, Liam and I break apart in a guilty rush. Jonas is here, with Peishan behind him. He’s carrying a bucket with something thrashing inside. When he sees me looking, he grins and lifts the bucket. “Caught a baby shark.”

I can’t even muster up the energy to smile. It’s too much, all of it. The moment with Liam, the disastrous attempt at killing and cleaning our own catch. I duck to one side, muttering, “I need some air,” and hurry outside.

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