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I spentmost of the afternoon soaking in the giant tub. I had no trouble with Jacuzzis, or swimming pools either. It was the unpredictability of the ocean that loomed in my nightmares and now my waking life. But with the relaxing tub and darkened shades, I almost forgot about its ever-present enormity. It also made it easier to avoid my mother’s letter, whose presence I found harder and harder to ignore. Opening Pandora’s box felt like too much after watching the arm of the tube float off into the ocean, those inside helplessly trapped.
Shutting down the images of what happened earlier proved harder than getting out of the tub when the time came and I could no longer avoid getting ready.
Shuddering at the memory for the hundredth time, I paused the application of my final coat of lipstick. I wondered how Travis was doing and if his parents had recovered from the shock of what had happened. I toyed with the idea of reaching out and contacting him, but something held me back. Maybe it was the rage that took over his whole body during the incident. I understood it, hell I even felt it for a moment, but something about it still gave me pause.
Seven came faster than I anticipated, and I headed out the door and down the stairs to the grounds. The walk to the Poseidon statue left me contemplating what I wanted to do with Mason. What I really wanted to do might be better done in the privacy of one of our own rooms, but we weren’t quite there yet. So I needed to come up with a non-water-related activity.
I decided to give myself time to think over dinner. After all, everybody had to eat.
Mason waited near the base of the statue, pacing between the shrubs. He wore tight, faded jeans and a turquoise shirt that showed off his biceps nicely. He kept pulling a hand through his adorably mussed blonde hair. Clearly he was nervous, and that made my heart warm. Mason Bennet, nervous to go on a date with little ole me. Who would have guessed?
“Hey there,” I said.
He stopped pacing and lit up at the sight of me, which I had to admit felt nice.
“So where are you taking me tonight?” he asked, falling into stride beside me.
“First we eat,” I announced with what I hoped was an air of mystery.
“I can’t argue with that. My stomach is always ready for a meal.”
I led the way to a little place I remembered spotting on my walk that morning. On the path between a string of shops and hotels sat a fancy sit down restaurant and…
“Shipwreck Sam’s,” read Mason, nodding with approval at the small counter and smattering of picnic tables. “Sounds delicious.”
“Come on, my treat,” I teased, knowing nothing at the resort actually cost us a penny.
Grabbing Mason’s hand, I tugged him up to the tiki-style counter in front of a life-sized model of the shipwreck outside the resort. I pushed the silver call button and scanned the menu.
“How may I help ye?” asked a disembodied voice in a bad imitation of either a pirate or an old sea captain.
“I’d like a bowl of clam chowder and a basket of fries,” I said.
Mason smiled. “I’ll take a bowl of chowder too, if the lady doesn’t mind sharing a few fries.”
I tapped my chin, pretending to debate. “I suppose.”
“Yer order be right up,” said the voice.
We chose a table beneath the most mature tree we could find, so we wouldn’t be on the path and could maintain a private conversation.
Two minutes later, a compartment on the side of the ship popped open with trays of steaming food and silverware. Mason retrieved it, setting it between us with a laugh. “Gotta love the presentation.”
“Oh, but I do,” I said, grabbing a fry from the red composite basket and popping it in my mouth. “Not sure about the kraken though.” I pointed at the eco-plastic sculpture attached to the side of my bowl, tentacles attempting to pull the treasure trove of soup beneath.
We laughed. We talked. We ate, feeding each other fries. My mind occupied itself with the pleasant conversation and excited tingle in my stomach, which grew with each brush of his hand on mine or stolen glance.
“So, you’re a genius,” he said after I’d told him about my degree.
“Please,” I said, “You’re surrounded by scientists and engineers. I’m nothing special.”
“I think you’re very special,” he said, leaning forward and placing a hand on mine.
I wondered if he could hear my breath speed up or feel my pulse race beneath his touch.
“What’s your degree in?” I asked, trying to get ahold of myself.
