Page 5 of Lucky Shot
“Does it bother you?”
“That I can’t live in peace without everyone wanting a piece of me? Yes.”
Azure smirks. “That I’ve noticed.”
“Oh,” I say and look at him again. It’s strange that there’s so little expression on his face. Even when he smiles, that small, amused lift of his lips, it almost doesn’t match the rest of his face. “No. I guess not. As long as you didn’t notice because you’re like, stalking me or some shit.”
He chuckles and I shiver. There’s something almost dark about it.
His fingers grip my wrist for a moment and my breath catches. “You have too much muscle for me, Noah.” Azure takes a step forward, gently tugging me along with him until my brain processes his words and I can keep up on my own.
“I’m not your type?” I ask.
“Are you offended?”
“No!” I say and flash him a wide grin. “I’m so fucking relieved! You’re my new best friend on this trip.”
His amusement doesn’t drop as we make our way to the lower swim deck that’s right off the surface of the incredibly clear water. We’re handed flippers and full-face snorkel masks. Together, Azure and I sit side by side to put the flippers on as our feet hang over the water. When we’re done, we drop in together.
The water is so damn warm and perfect that for a minute, I just close my eyes as I lift my face to the sun.
“This one?”
I open my eyes at Azure’s question to find that he’s looking to the right of the boat. Beneath the surface is the hull of a sunken ship. It looks like it’s just ten feet beneath the surface and if we just stretched a little, we could reach it. But the crew said that the wrecks on the bottom are between thirty and fifty feet below us! That’s how clear the water is.
“Yeah,” I say and pull my mask over my face. I take a minute to get it situated and try it out while we’re still close to the boat. When I’m satisfied, I nod at Azure, and we swim for the ship.
I’m sidetracked when a stingray glides below us, close enough that my fingers barely brush the side of its skin. No matter how many times we do this, it never gets old. This is my fourth year on this annual trip and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
While I still don’t dare to be myself for fear of pictures leaking or something, I get to be the closest version of myself that I can. To enjoy my time in a judgment free zone. A safe space. Even if we’re not all close friends, we’re bound together by similar backgrounds and experiences. Our stories always have something in common.
I’m sure even Azure and I have something other than hockey in common. Maybe that thing is simply that we like dick, but there’s probably something else.
For a while, Azure and I hover over one shipwreck before another catches our attention further toward the shore, so we make our way to it, keeping our faces underwater and watching the clean white sand on the bottom. It’s surreal when a sea turtle swims under you as if you’re floating in air. Weightless. Gravity means nothing.
No matter how many times I do this, it’ll always be one of my favorite experiences.
When we’re floating over another wreck that’s less than twenty feet under, Azure picks his head up and taps my shoulder. I lift my mask as he does. “Want to swim down to it?” he asks.
I glance at the now distorted image through the water’s surface. “I’ve never done that.”
Azure tilts his head. “Is that a yes or no?”
Laughing, I glance at the water again. “I’ll try,” I say. Drowning seems like an awful way to go.
“I’m a strong swimmer,” Azure says. “I can get you up if you start to panic.”
“Thanks,” I say, though I’m not sure if that’s a comforting feeling. That he can likely save me, yes. Comforting. That I might panic? That he’s offering because maybe hethinksI might panic? Not so much.
“It’s closer than it looks,” Azure says. “Want to watch me first?”
I nod. “Yes, please.”
He smirks, again amused. It’s kind of cute that he finds me amusing. “All right. Just watch me then, okay?”
Pulling my mask back down and securing it in place, I give him a thumbs up when I’m ready. Azure nods and ducks under. I follow him while he chooses a place, and the next thing I know, he’s propelling himself under. Further and further away from me; closer and closer to the ship.
He hovers in place for a minute, then shifts somewhere else to peer into its broken decks. Bubbles come out of his breathing tube and float their way to the top, making my heart race. Horrible headlines of an NHL player drowning as he checks out a sunken ship flash before my eyes.
