Page 59 of Head First
‘It’s better underwater,’ Miguel says brightly. ‘Less chance to be seasick.’ He gives me a sideways glance with a grin. I nod at him, affirming that I too do not want to be trapped on the boat with people who are sick. We haven’t talked much over the last day. He’s spent a lot of time with Derek and Natalie, talking about God knows what.
‘OK,’ says Pippa, although she clearly doesn’t believe it. She shimmies into her stinger suit and straps on her BCD. I follow suit. Hugh and I have hardly spoken since I left the room earlier, but neither of us found another buddy. We do our buddy check silently. Hugh completes his quicker than ever but still manages to be very thorough. I squirm with discomfort when he triple-checks my regulator. Being so close to him is excruciating.
The group launches themselves into the water quickly, Derek even forgoing his camera, all of us thinking we either wanted to be inside or underwater when the rain hits.
We’re at Norman Reef, the place where the butterfly wrasse were last spotted. After Hugh and I climbed aboard, Aaron pulled anchor and we deviated from our schedule, sailing thirty minutes to Norman, which also happened to bring us thirty minutes closer to the incoming storm. As we start to descend, rain begins to pelt the surface of the water. The waves pick up so heavily that it’s hard to grab the mooring line. With each swell, we are raised up and out of the ocean, our hands grabbing a rope that is pulled tight between the ocean floor and the boat. The ocean is murky, sand and dirt swirling around us. But everything subsides as soon as we’re ten feet under. I’m so relieved to finally descend that for a moment I forget about what happened earlier only to immediately remember again, turning hot despite the water.
Thankfully, Norman Reef is deeper than the other reefs we’ve been diving, which proves to be a challenge for Andrew’s buoyancy but helps separate us from whatever is happening on the surface. I try to tune out my thoughts as best I can, falling into a meditative state, kicking gently over coral and keeping an eye out for a flick of purple or yellow that could be a butterfly wrasse.
But having Hugh at my elbow makes concentrating impossible. All I can think about is how he made me feel. I have to resist the urge to grab onto his elbow. Hugh pulls out his camera as we hover over some staghorn coral.
He is still trying to find the butterfly wrasse, even after what happened earlier. The thought makes my heart hurt. It would be easier if Hugh was a horrible person, if he really was just out to stop me from finding what I was searching for. But the nicer he is, the worse I feel, the more I remember that I am the one keeping secrets and telling lies.
I turn away from Hugh taking photos. I can’t take it anymore.
When we surface, the storm has blown through. It was an uneventful dive, one that felt more like a way to escape the storm, and possible seasickness, than to actually see marine life.
Hugh tries to catch my eye as we wait for our turn to ascend the ladder onto the boat, and I can’t bring myself to look at him. I know he is hurt and angry – that his eyes would be a dark grey-blue, and it would do me in.
We hardly look at each other the rest of the evening. Everyone gathers on the side of the boat to watch the sun slowly dip into the water. It would usually stir my soul to watch something so beautiful, but I feel hollow and confused.
I avoid Hugh at dinner and sit at the opposite end of the booth. When everyone takes a beer up to the captain’s room to celebrate our last full day of dives, I head to the cabin. I change and start to get ready for bed so I don’t have to wrangle into my pyjamas while he watches. I can’t face him. Especially not after he convinced Vanessa and Aaron to try Norman Reef, and even that didn’t work.
The butterfly wrasse doesn’t exist. I feel sure of it. I want to be angry at Millie for sending me on a wild goose chase, but I’m so worried about her well-being that it staves off my anger a little longer.
‘Ahem.’ Hugh clears his throat as he steps into our room. I jump, not prepared for anyone to come in. I had forgotten to lock the door.
‘Sorry,’ I say quickly, ‘I’m just finishing up in here. I’ll get out of your way.’ I duck by Hugh and step towards the door, but he steps to the side and blocks my way out.
‘Millie,’ he says, his voice low. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m going upstairs,’ I say weakly, nodding towards the door.
‘No, what are you doing tothis?’ He gestures to himself and back to me again.
I look up at him. ‘What do you mean?’ I force out.
Hugh looks like he’s about to roll his beautiful eyes, and then he sighs and sits down on his bed.
Something about his weariness stills me, and I sit down across from him.
‘You know that we have something, the two of us. I know it’s only been three days . . . and, well, some Instagram conversations . . .’ He levels his gaze at me. ‘You know I’m not good at talking about stuff like this, so me addressing this is something.’ He laughs harshly. ‘My therapist would call it growth.’
I force myself not to react that Hugh just mentioned his therapist. There is nothing more attractive than a man taking care of his mental health.Why did I have to lie to him?I think.
‘But you’re pushing me away.’ He can’t sit up straight under the bunk beds, so he’s hunched over, looking at me.
‘You don’t understand.’ I fiddle with my hands.
‘I do,’ says Hugh. ‘I see what’s going on. You’re finding every reason to turn this down, to make me into a bad guy, because you aren’t ready to see yourself as worthy of someone good.’
My chest tightens. I don’t want to listen to Hugh telling me all the ways my confidence could be improved. I’ve been hearing that for my entire life.
‘And I get it,’ He continues, ‘I was that way after Sophia. I couldn’t imagine myself deserving anyone with half a brain. But, Millie, you’re making this so much harder than it needs to be. You are smart, and savvy, and witty, and opinionated. You are ruthlessly sexy. Why can’t you see that? Why can’t you let your guard down?’
Normally I would be thrilled Hugh said I was ruthlessly sexy. Instead, I feel stupid and exposed. ‘What is this?’ I say, through gritted teeth. ‘Hugh, you live in Australia. I live in Ohio, for crying out loud. This can’tbeanything! It’s not a big deal, OK?’
‘It could be something if we want it to be,’ Hugh counters evenly, but then he stops himself. ‘But if you don’t feel the same way . . .’
