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1
Owen
I typeThe End on my latest novel and lean back in my chair. This one might be my best one yet and I smile, knowing my agent and publishers will be happy. I’ll need to send it to the editors soon and then it will be time to start my next book.
My mood dims a little at that thought. Don’t get me wrong, I love writing. I love using my imagination to create new worlds and characters and stories. I love coming up with new adventures to take my characters on but lately, all I’ve been able to think about is how little adventures I’ve been on myself.
When I was younger, I used to pretend to be a pirate or an explorer and run around my backyard, looking for treasure. I lost count of the number of books I read about pirates and sailors or how many pirates maps I drew.
I’ve always had a thing about pirates, more than any other type of explorer. Maybe it’s because I grew up in Santa Fe, New Mexico and always dreamed of seeing the ocean. Either way, I’ve devoured every book I could find on pirates, their captains, and their ships.
My parents always indulged my imagination when I was younger. They were both authors too so maybe they understood better than most how important imagination was. When I graduated high school, I started following in their footsteps. I went to the University of New Mexico for my Bachelor’s in Creative Writing and by the time I graduated, I had my first book deal.
It was a terrible deal; I would later find out but my parents were still so proud of me. I had an apartment in downtown Santa Fe not far from where they still lived in my childhood home. My place is small but nice. I don’t need much and since I spend all of my time in my office, that seems to be the only room that actually got decorated and fully furnished.
My mom always said I was a dreamer, too in my head to focus much on the things around me. Maybe that’s why it never bothered me if I didn’t have a headboard or if my TV was just resting on the ground. I’d rather be reading than watching TV and my bed was just a place to crash after work.
Maybe that’s also why I didn’t see the signs with my dad. He was complaining about feeling tired and having heartburn for a couple of days but I just thought he had been working too hard and maybe eating too much take out. Then I got the phone call. My mom was crying so hard that I could barely understand her, but I made it to the hospital. They had tried to revive him but it was too late.
That was three years ago. I had moved back in with my mom for a few months, helping her grieve and go through some of his things. She had decided to move north and be closer to her sister. I had helped her sell the house and had just helped her find a place up north when she collapsed. Brain aneurysm the doctors said.
Just like that and I was all alone. It was weird not having them there. I had spent the first twenty-six years of my life being closer to my parents than to anyone else and now they were gone. I had an aunt and uncle up north but I rarely saw them and we weren’t all that close. With their house sold and their things packed up, there wasn’t a lot for me to do and I threw myself into my work, finishing off my first book deal and landing a second.
My second book deal was better. More money, probably because I had written like a fiend as I was grieving. With this latest book though, I would be done with that one too. My agent is pushing me to sign another one right away. My fantasy series is doing well and he thinks that we could get more money if we just strike while it’s still hot. I’m not sure that’s what I want though.
I think that I need a break, some time to grieve and move on from this town with all of my memories of them. I’m growing tired of being stuck in my office every single day, staring at my computer screen or the same four walls. I need to get out and finally have my adventure. Before it’s too late.
I bring up a new webpage on my computer, typing in sunken ships and hitting search. A long list of shipwrecks comes up but what catches my eye, is an ad on the side of the screen.
“Learn to dive. Chase Diving.” Is written in blue font on the side, a ship with a pirate flag on the logo. I don’t know why, maybe it’s knowing that now is my chance to have an adventure, but I click on the link and before I can second guess myself, I’ve booked myself a one on one class.
I smile as I type out an email to my agent, letting him know that the book is done and that I’ll be taking a vacation for a couple of weeks.
2
Andie
I sighas I heft another box into my arms and carry it over to my boat. I set it down with the other ones and roll my shoulders as I head back to grab another one. Things have been pretty rough financially the last few months and I had to give up my apartment in town and move onto my boat. I’m hoping that I get quite a few clients this summer and I can save up and get a new apartment this winter.
I have my first client of the season tomorrow. Some guy named Owen. He said that he has zero experience with diving and I’m not exactly looking forward to taking a complete diving newbie out but it will mean more lessons and more money for me.
Diving is in my blood. My dad was in the coast guard and worked as a rescue diver for years. He teaches the new recruits now but he taught me everything that he knew. My mom passed away when I was a teen so it’s just been me and him for years. We’re pretty close although we talk less now that he’s teaching.
I’ve been living in North Carolina for a few years now but we moved around a bit when I was growing up, traveling from base to base for my dad’s job but we were always near the water. My dad loves to say that I could swim before I could walk and I believe him. There are pictures of me as a baby in the water, both of my parents smiling as I bob in the water.
I’ve always loved diving as well but I didn’t want to join the coast guard. I ended up working as some dive shops when I was a teen and while I was there, I took the classes to be CPR certified and to become a diving instructor. I saved up as much of my paycheck as I could and when I was twenty-four, I finally had enough to buy my own boat and started teaching classes.
I step off the boat and walk over to grab another box when I see a man headed my way. It’s pretty late and the dock is deserted. I take a moment to assess him.
He’s tall and lanky with a goofy kind of vibe. His blond hair is curly and in disarray around his angular face. I can’t make out his eye color in the shadowy light coming off the street lamp above us.
He’s smiling, his teeth white in his pale face as he looks around the marina. His head turns this way and that as he tries to take everything in. There’s something almost puppy dog about him. Maybe it’s his obvious excitement about being here or the way his curly mop of hair flops with each step.
I shake myself out of my thoughts, rolling my eyes as I step up to my pile of boxes. I need to get these on the boat and take a shower so that I’m well rested for tomorrow. I push thoughts of the lanky guy from my mind as I walk over to my boxes.
I’m about to grab another box when I hear a splash. My head whips up and I look over to where the guy was just standing. He’s gone. I curse under my breath, jogging over to the side of the dock and looking into the water. He should have been up by now but I don’t see him bobbing in the water. I can barely see in the dark and I let out another curse as I toss my phone and keys onto the dock and dive into the water after him.
I swim toward the bottom, kicking hard as I pull my way through the water toward the dark spot beneath me. My arms wrap around his torso and I turn, swimming as fast as I can toward the surface. We both gasp in a deep breath as soon as our heads clear the water and I tow him over to the side. We grab onto the wood and I pull myself up, rolling onto the dock.
