Charlie taps on the tank, and heads snap to her. She points at us, and I offer her a small wave. Each one of them wave in response, a small chorus of metal taps against oxygen tankssounding at our arrival. Jett shakas and then veers right, guiding us to the shallower parts of the reef.
The water is warm, heated by the sun, and I stop kicking, content for him to drag me around. Soft corals in varying shades of pink and purple sway with the current and hard corals, some pointy and others flat like massive tables, make up the base of the reef’s structure. Algae and anemones fill tiny pockets of space, and it’s the single most beautiful, otherworldly thing I’ve ever experienced. Bright fish dart around us, some solitary, others forming massive schools.
My fear of the ocean fades with every kick.
No wonder Charlie and Mateo love it so much; it’s spectacular.
A rainbow-colored fish with large buck teeth passes in front of us. A surprised laugh rips out of me, and Jett’s head tilts. His snorkel hides his smile, but I know he’s offering me one.
I squeeze his hand in acknowledgment. In thanks. If he hadn’t pressed, I never would have witnessed this, never would have realized what I was missing by staying where I thought it was safe.
We swim along the shallower parts of the reef, Jett pointing out different marine animals. Some I recognize, like a clownfish weaving through an anemone, but most are a mystery until Jett pulls a small waterproof sheet from his pocket and offers me the field identification guide.
I secure the band in the corner around my wrist, and my heart thunders in my ears.
Skipping out on diving to stay with me. The wetsuit. The field guide. It’s all been for me.
I scan the sheet and match what’s around us to the card. Blackback butterflyfish. Potato cod. Lionfish.
A shadow appears on my left, and from deeper within the coral structure, a green sea turtle rises to the surface. Unafraid, heglides right past, so close I peer into its eyes before it swallows a gulp of air and descends again.
I’m stuck in a state of shock and awe, and I tug at Jett to get his attention.
It winked at me. The turtle winked at me, I know it.
Jett gives me a wave of his hand—a shaka—and pulls me away from my new turtle pal and right into the jaws of the most fearsome creature in the ocean, according to Charlie.
I know little about marine life outside what I’ve learned from Charlie, Mateo, and Jett, but there’s no way I’ll ever forget Charlie’s PowerPoint about the ocean’s scariest creatures—the ones you should avoid at all costs and should run from if you ever meet them eye-to-eye.
On the top of that list? A triggerfish.
She drilled its features into my brain. If a marine scientist tells you to fear something in the water, you listen, even if you have no intention of dipping your toe in the ocean.
I know I made him promise not to let go of my hand, but I didn’t vow the same, and I rip my hand from his grip and kick away from the territorial fish. It swings in our direction, tail thrashing through the water and evil growing in its beady little eyes.
Jett gives me a confused look, and I point behind him, keeping my gaze locked on the predator. He spins—first mistake—his back facing the triggerfish, to take hold of my hand. My heart lurches at him keeping his word, but it gives the fish a target, and it darts forward.
There’s nothing I can do to stop it, but I can’t look away in case I’m next.
He curses loudly as the fish’s beak clamps down on the back of his calf. He thrashes, and I try to kick out to deter the fish from striking again.Get away! Shoo, you evil creature,I scream in my mind.
Jett flips onto his back, breathing through the snorkel be damned, and shoves himself between me and the predator. I nearly fucking swoon.
As far as gestures go, putting himself between me and evil incarnate is pretty high, and it’s at this moment my decision settles. For that alone, I’m going to say yes to his proposition. I’m pretty confident the answer would have been yes regardless, but this solidified it.
I giggle to myself.A knight in shining neoprene. I flail my arms as we hightail it back to the boat in case the vicious creature comes back for seconds. Even bitten, he helps me take off my fins and climb the staircase before hauling himself out of the water.
“Are you okay? I tried to warn you—they are evil, vindictive creatures.”
I rush him, my arm around his bicep to guide him up the steps, then drag the wetsuit off his body. The precarious position I’ve placed myself in settles as I’m peeling the neoprene down his legs. I am on my knees, ripping the clothes off his body.
Jett stares down at me, pupils blown and chest heaving.
“That triggerfish can bite me any day if this is where I end up.”
I remove my grip from his wetsuit and rise, the sound of laughter filtering up from the lower deck. Our friends are back, and there’s not enough time to unpack that statement, not now when the look he’s giving me almost makes my knees buckle.
“Sofía,” he says, cautiously, desperately.
