Page 20 of Hired By the Enemy
I’m sure Matthew’s not going to lure me to my death outhere in the ocean, if only because pretending to grieve over his boyfriend will derail the rest of his retreat.
Matthew must sense some of my hesitation. “It’s worth it, trust me.”
“Because trust has been such a thing between us over the years,” I mutter.
He laughs again, and it appears the novelty of making him laugh hasn’t worn off because a weird flush goes through me.
I don’t want to dwell on that, so I adjust my mask so it fits right, put on my flippers, and then launch myself into the ocean.
Oh, holy fuck.
Matthew’s right.
It is so worth it.
It’s like being suspended in a completely different world. A school of bright-yellow fish swims right in front of my face. They dart away, moving in a shimmering shadow, as I paddle toward them,
I suddenly realize Matthew is right next to me.
He points, and I realize we’re not actually at the reef but the sandy shallows leading up to it.
Matthew kicks in the direction of the reef, and I follow.
The explosion of color of the coral and fish when we reach the reef is jaw-dropping. It’s as if Mother Nature was given a box of crayons and a bottomless mug of caffeine, then told to go wild.
I’m aware of Matthew floating next to me, and he points out a fish with a long nose poking about among a piece of coral that looks like a tree.
Another group of electric-green fish swims past, and I spot two black-and-white fish swirling around each other. I grab Matthew’s arm to point them out.
My own breathing and the scritch-scritch sound fish make as they nose around the coral are all I can hear.
Matthew and I stick together, lazily exploring the reef.
Maybe this is the only way Matthew and I will get along. Suspended in an underwater paradise where we can’t actually talk. It’s surprisingly enjoyable to follow him around on the reef, pointing things out to each other.
The minutes slip by, and after a blissful half-hour, I realize Matthew has surfaced, so I follow his lead.
He pushes his mask off his face, treading water, and the brilliant blue of his eyes matches the sea around us.
“You doing okay?” he asks.
“Oh my god, it’s incredible,” I say before I can stop myself.
“I told you it was worth it.”
“This is one of the few times you might be right,” I concede.
I look around and discover the boat is two hundred feet away now. Most of the other snorkelers are heading back, with some already on the boat. Distant voices travel to us, carried by the soft tropical breeze.
“I guess we should head back to the boat,” I say.
“Yeah, we should.”
I lead the way this time, and Matthew follows. But we continue to point things out to each other. A bright-blue sea star. A knobby sea cucumber. A fish with a beak like a parrot.
When we finally surface again and remove the masks, our words spill over each other as we climb back up the ladder onto the boat.
“Did you see that moray eel in that hole?
