Page 61 of If I Go Down with This Ship

“Show me,” he orders, inching away.

I raise a brow.“You want me to…” He nods, and I shrug as I step back, sliding the little notebook out of the way.Selecting portrait mode, I snap a photo of him.I press a fist tomy lips to muffle my laugh as it renders.He looks so angry in the photo, his lips pouting, eyes narrowed on me, trying to disprove this.

Silas snatches the phone from my hand as I hold it out to him.One hand strokes his jaw as he glares down at the image, and I can see the questions there.

“Magic,” he says with a shake of his head.

I gently tug it from his hand and hold it between us.“No, no, I promise it’s a kind of science.”

“That’s impossible.”

“It’s not impossible, Silas.It’s just… it’s just science.”

“Then tell me how it works.”

“I… didn’t make it.I’m not very interested in technology,” I admit.

Silas’s expression doesn’t change, only deepens.I want to press my thumb into the crease between his brows and wipe it away.I want to erase all his worries.I hate lying to him, hate lying in general.There’s something so hot about honesty, so freeing.

Chewing on my lip, I switch to video mode.He walks around me, and I angle the video to catch him as he crosses toward me.

“What are you doing?”he asks.

Pressing the replay button, I hold it up to show him, but he slaps it from my hands as his voice fills the speakers, his lower lip quivering.“No.”

The impossibility of this kind of technology isn’t lost on me, but his incessant frustration with it is adorable.I want to laugh, I really do.Before I can pick up my phone again, he scoops it from the sand and squints at the screen.

“Is this a trick?”he asks.

“It’s real, I promise,” I say when he only continues to stare down at the phone in disgruntled silence.

He looks up, something like intrigue shining back at me, and he’s no longer gripping the phone with white-knuckled hands.I’ve seen all sorts of expressions and emotions on Silas’s face, but I’ve never seen this kind of boyish wonder.

“If you just press that button,” I start, crossing to him and reaching out.He shoos away my hand as he holds up the phone and snaps a picture of me.“And if you want to switch to… oh, okay, yeah, that’s video, but… oh, you’ve got a hang of it.”

He’s holding the phone upside down, but that’s beside the point.The corners of Silas’s lips twitch as he steps back until his feet are in the water as the tide washes over the beach, and I am mesmerized as his lips peel back into a brilliant smile.All his fear is suddenly replaced by interest.My pulse speeds as he laughs and stumbles back, falling into the water with asplash.His pants and shirt are soaked through in seconds, but my phone is still in his hand, recording me as I rush forward to help him.

And I should have seen it as Silas’s hand reaches out to take mine, but I don’t.He tugs me down with him, and I can’t stop the laughter as it bubbles from my lips when my body collides with his, sending us both sprawling in the tide.

It should be impossible,weshould be impossible, but it’s not and we’re not.I feel sofree.He wasn’t exaggerating when he told me about the freedom of being at sea, of being a part of a crew.I wonder what it must feel like to never have to hide your true self, to spend every day never worrying about what others think of you, your choices, your love life.The tide crashes against my back as he tosses my phone to the safety of the beach and pulls me all the way down with him.

My back presses into the wet sand as the water washes over me, over us.His hands cup my face as he bends down, chest to chest.Silas’s thumb brushes the corner of my lips, a tender, loving look in his eyes, and my laughter falters as I look up at him.I slide a hand up his neck and into his wavy hair, all the dark things, the sad things, the treacherous things slipping away until it’s only us on this beach, only this moment.Our chests rise and fall as one, the warm seawater dousing us as our gazes lock.

“You are a strange man,” he whispers.

“I do my best.”

“I’ve never seen something like this.Never known someone like you.”

“There are other things,” I say.“But you can’t tell a soul, Silas.They wouldn’t understand, not like you.Promise me,” I add when he doesn’t say anything.

“I promise, Laszlo.”

We stare at each other.The soft lap of the sea is in my ears, the shrill cries of the seagulls.I blink up at him, taking in the sharp angles of his face before my eyes find their way to his lips.Smiling, I strain up and kiss him.We sink into the sand as he pushes closer, and it feels odd to be at home here, to wonder what would have happened to me if I had never boardedShe Deceitfulin London, never tried on that jacket, never seen this man for who he truly is.

And as he straddles my hips and the kiss deepens, I think,I’m the luckiest man alive.

He’s discarded his shirt and tossed it over a nearby rock as the sun beats down on us.He lies sprawled on the beach with asmile on his face as I lean across him and pat sand around his limbs.