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He swam toward me, a predatory gleam in his eye, the intensity of the moment drowning out Cheryl’s whining about her mask. I flipped onto my stomach with a shriek as Diego gave chase, grateful for those lessons a few years ago, and ready to flee as fast as these dang flippers would let me. I took a deep breath, put the mouthpiece back in, and dove underwater to race away.
Popping up a few yards ahead, I looked back and saw that Diego had stopped to help Cheryl get her mask fixed. The rubber strap had disconnected, and Oliver handed it over to Diego with a resigned huff. Cheryl was complaining about how it was broken and now she had to go back and get a new one. Damsel in distress… or damsel in de-sea was probably a better metaphor.
Diego gave me a look that seemed to telegraph:Just say the word and I’ll leave them to it.
Waving him off, I turned and continued my loop around the dive site. I’d successfully expelled the water from the snorkel a few times since we’d been here, and I was feeling more confident with every stroke. I stuck my face back in the water and watched as Gia and Daniel swam toward the bottom and touched it.
It wasn’t that far.
I kicked my feet, feeling emboldened by my new snorkeling skills, and raced toward the seafloor. I noticed a cameraman with scuba gear off to my left and waved as he panned the site. He turned toward four legs kicking above us, and I continued on my merry way. The two cameramen had been taking turns diving below the surface or floating around the dive site, getting footage of us in the water.
Down, down, down I went—past the cameraman and belatedly realizing this was much farther than ten feet.
But I had started this descent, and I wanted to fucking finish it. After all, that was how I strived to approach everything in life—get an idea and give it my all. Sure, I may be a little reckless sometimes, but I’d rather live with regrets than what-ifs.
The pressure kicked up, my ears going funny, but I was determined to touch the bottom. I needed to. Something in me was driving me to push my limits on this—to overcome this fear and accomplish something remarkable today.
Endless seconds later, the seafloor was inches away. I reached out, finally touching the soft sand with my pruned fingertips and letting out a whoop of accomplishment… and all of my remaining air. Fuck.
I flipped, suddenly feeling like I would drown if I didn’t get to the surface. My mind raced with how that would be portrayed on the show because, apparently, that was the important thing at that moment. I imagined how Esmeralda would yell at me for being so stupid. The winter line still needed a few tweaks, and I hadn’t written them down, figuring I would get to it when I returned from this dumbass idea I’d agreed to. And how my cactus would die… eventually.
Strange where the mind goes when there’s imminent danger.
The sun shone above the sea, and the surface looked so close, but my hands didn’t breach it. My lungs burned, and black spots danced in front of my vision. I kicked and kicked, my legs growing tired from lack of oxygen and exertion.
Those black spots grew more prominent, and I closed my eyes, feeling sick and light-headed.
Strong arms wrapped around my waist, and suddenly, I was being propelled through the water at a speed I wasn’t capable of on my own anymore. My stomach rolled at the speed, my limp legs no longer helping to push me upward.
The need to breathe finally overcame me, and involuntarily, I sucked in a breath, but it was salty water instead of blissful air. I coughed, and the reflex to drag in more air kicked in, again only finding water.
The pressure changed, and within moments, my head broke the surface. Hands were on either side of my face, pulling off my mask with a quick yank, and a voice was yelling at me to breathe.
Strong hands held my biceps, keeping me above water as my legs limply treaded water and I gripped someone’s shoulders for stability. I turned my head and spewed water. I coughed as my lungs and throat burned, finally finding air—blissful, never-take-it-for-granted-again, air.
“That’s it, love. Look at me,” the panicked voice continued. “Open those eyes. Let me see you.” My eyes were streaming tears and my lungs were finally expanding to full capacity.
Lids fluttering, I finally pried my stinging eyes open and found Oliver staring at me, his blue gaze filled with fear.
“There you are. Breathe.” I let his soothing voice wash over me, and it coaxed my body to follow his commands. This close, and in the late afternoon sun, I noticed he had freckles across the bridge of his nose and a small smattering on his cheeks. The light brown spots gave me something to focus on as I tore my eyes from his gaze with a healthy dose of shame for my reckless stunt. A nearby splash broke me out of my trance.
“What the hell happened?” Diego demanded as he swam closer to us, pulling me from Oliver’s arms and into his own. “Sophie! Soph, are you okay?”
“Fine,” I mumbled, feeling so,sostupid. My throat burned from the salty water and self-loathing for my stunt. I looked at the seafloor below us and kept my gaze fixed there so I wouldn’t see the exasperation on his face. “I just didn’t judge the depth correctly. Oliver saved me when I almost didn't make it back up.”
Diego’s palm glided over my cheek, his thumb resting just under my jaw. He tilted my head up and locked eyes with me. He didn’t press me to explain further, just pulled me closer and pressed a kiss to my forehead.
“Where were you?” Oliver seethed. “You were her partner for today, weren’t you?” There was a harshness to his voice I hadn’t expected. He sounded downright pissed, but that wasn’t fair. Diego was neither my keeper nor responsible for my actions.
Before I could summon my voice again to say all of that, Diego answered, “I was busy helpingyourpartner with her mask, remember? I’ve been teaching Sophie what to do, and she had the hang of it,” Diego explained, one arm wildly gesticulating above the water toward the direction I’d last seen him. “How could I know she was in trouble?”
“Bloody hell, you git! She coul—”
“Enough!” I shouted at them, my voice cracking around the word. They looked like they were about to come to blows, and the last thing we needed was someone actually getting hurt out here. “I’m fine. Oliver, thank you for helping me to the surface. Diego, I don’t blame you.” I took a deep breath, promising to worship at the altar of the oxygen gods from here on out. “I think I’m done for the day.”
“Diego!” Cheryl called from the other side of the dive site. She was waving her mask in the air. “It’s being weird again!”
“Go. I’ll be fine. I’m just going to sit on the deck and work on my tan,” I told him. Extricating myself from his arms, I swam toward the boat’s stepladder. I could use the break, to be honest. I wanted to wrap myself in a towel and find somewhere quiet, away from all the commotion and cameras. Looking back, it’s easy to see how reckless and stupid it was to make that dive when I was inexperienced, and I wanted to find somewhere private to beat myself up about it.
