Page 2 of Wild Life

If Freud were still in the chat, he would also say that my desire to become a scientist, and to have a Ph.D. of my own at age thirty-two, was more than the critical-thinking genes and problem-solving skills I had inherited from both sides of my family. Maybe a part of me had always hoped if I became a scientist, too, then Aunt Sherri would finally wrap an arm around me and tell me how proud she was of me. That day had yet to come, so it was lucky for me that I at least enjoyed being a wildlife biologist.

“You’re wearing me out, Maris.” Eli stretched his arms over his head. “We’ve fucked every night since we left port.”

I burrowed into his side, absorbing his warmth like it was a drug. “And that’s a bad thing?” I replied lazily, my words already sluggish and slurring from sleepiness.

He pulled on a tendril of my chestnut-colored hair. “What kind of man would I be to look a gift horse in the mouth?”

I drew back. “Did you just call me a horse?”

“Well, I did ride you to exhaustion, didn’t I?” His smile was too proud to match the tacky words that exited through it.

I grimaced—not at his poor humor, but at my desperation for intimacy from a chauvinist. In my search for affection, I had lowered my standards for men so much that I didn’t know what I deserved anymore.

I rolled away from his touch, suddenly repulsed by cuddling, and myself. “We should get some sleep. We need to be up soon.”

His hand remained on my hip oblivious to my self-loathing. “I’m so damn thankful for our relationship.”

My spine stiffened and I shot up in the bed like he had dumped ice water on me.Relationship?

“Eli.” I strained to keep my voice steady, though I was shaking inside. “We’ve been over this. We aren’t in arelationship.”

He sat up next to me and reached out for me, but I shrank away. “Maris, relax. It’s not a bad thing. Give us a chance.”

Us?“We’re not dating. We agreed that this was only sex.” The calmness I had been grasping so tightly began to slip as he twisted his mouth to bite his inner cheek. “Eli,” I warned.

“Maris, we’ve been hooking up on these work trips for nearly two years now. We always share the same room and sleep in the same bunk every night. Don’t you think we’re past the friends-with-benefits stage? We don’t sleep with other people, for Christ’s sake.”

I clutched the sheets to my chest. “You can fuck other people. I’ve already told you that. I’m fine with it.” Really, I was. This was in no way intended to be a monogamous arrangement, and I had been very clear about that from the beginning with Eli—and every other man I had been with. Nothing about us was exclusive.

Apparently, Eli wanted what I was terrified to give—a commitment.

The corners of his eyes fell with disappointment. “I just want to be with you.”

His words were clear, but all I could register was the pounding in my chest. “Please. Stop. We’ve talked about this. I don’t want to be in a relationship.”

“With me?”

“With anyone.” My skin tingled as imaginary ants marched up the back of my neck. No amount of itching or slapping would stop the familiar sensation. They would only spread, suffocating me until everything went black. Until my brain shut off to escape the panic.

Eli let out a sigh. “What are you so afraid of?”

Everything.

How could I put into words that I was afraid of rejection? If we continued screwing around like we had been doing all this time, I could still retain the upper hand and wouldn’t risk being turned away when I was in too deep and at my most vulnerable. The minute I sealeduswith commitment, it would all turn to hell, ending in a messy breakup that would leave me alone, yet again.Like when Mom and Dad died.

Either way, I was destined to be by myself because it was clear to me that Eli and I couldn’t continue this way. It would at least be on my terms if I ended everything immediately.

Forehead creased, Eli seemed to read my thoughts loud and clear. I gritted my teeth to keep anxious tears from flowing. “I’m going to sleep.”

Without a word, Eli slid out from my bunk. His mattress overhead bowed with his weight He tossed and turned before finally going still. The rhythmic sawing of his snores soon followed.

My bunk was empty and cooler than with a man in it, yet the weight of the thin flat sheet strangled me. I kicked it off and planted my feet on the vinyl floor. I threw on my overworn Smokey the Bear forest-fire T-shirt and shorts and left the cabin.

As expected for nighttime, the deck was empty, with only one crew member on watch in the wheelhouse, no doubt.

My body swayed with the gentle waves that rocked the boat. The sea was far too calm. A storm was coming. I sensed it, although there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

I wrapped my arms over my chest, staring at the bright full moon above. Its light skittered across the surface of the water like crushed diamonds.

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