Kirsten stretched her arms over her head and let out a low moan. “I am so jealous of you for not getting seasick last night. I’m exhausted. I don’t even know if I’ll be able to dive today!”
Spencer nudged her playfully. “We’re at sea. Where do you think we’re going to dive?” The two of them were taking scuba, which counted as a class credit, and they were headed for the first lesson, which was taking place in one of the fitness centers. Spencer was overjoyed that she’d been randomly paired with Kirsten, especially hearing about her friends’ matches. Field hockey buddies for years, she and Kirsten had already roomed together when traveling to out-of-state games.
“This is just a getting-to-know-you, everyone-try-on-the-equipment, here-are-some-water-safety-tips kind of thing,” Spencer added knowingly. “I’ve been through plenty of these before.” Spencer had gotten her scuba certification at fourteen; she could probably write the book on scuba safety.
After getting off on the top floor, they passed one of the restaurants, which teemed with guys loading their plates at the buffet line, girls whispering at the tables, and kids flirting and gossiping near the espresso bar. Then Spencer spied someone’s tall, straight back in front of the giant aquarium, and she suppressed a nervous squeak.
“Reefer?” she called out, her voice cracking only a little.
Reefer turned. His whole face lit up when he caught sight of her. This was the first time they’d seen each other on the boat. They’d tried to connect yesterday, but, like Kirsten, Reefer had spent the evening in his room, seasick. “Can I walk you to scuba?” Reefer asked, a little bashfully.
“Sure,” Spencer said, trying to temper her smile. She glanced at Kirsten to see if it was okay, but Kirsten had tactfully walked on.
“Oh, and surprise.” Reefer proffered a smoothie from behind his back. “This is for you. It’s banana-papaya.”
“My favorite,” Spencer breathed, thrilled he’d remembered. She’d mentioned liking those flavors together just once on the phone.
Their hands touched as she took it from him. Chills zinged up Spencer’s spine. She snuck a peek at Reefer’s face, taking in his chiseled jaw and his amber-colored eyes. This was the first time she’d laid eyes on him since Princeton—since she’d realized she liked him. How could she have not remembered his strong shoulders or how pink and kissable his lips were? Why hadn’t she taken note of the cute freckles on his cheeks? Even his dreadlocks, threadbare hemp sneakers, and oversized tie-dyed shirt were suddenly endearing.
She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, feeling the back of her neck redden. “Um, how are you feeling?” she blurted, suddenly needing to fill the silence. “You must have been bummed to miss out on the Welcome Party.” She’d almost been tempted to knock on his cabin door with a glass of ginger ale and some Dramamine, but she’d worried that might seem too forward.
“Eh, it’s all good,” Reefer said, starting down the hall toward the scuba class. “I watched movies on pay-per-view. Did you get sick? Those waves were pretty vicious.”
Spencer shook her head. “I’ve never been seasick. I’m used to boats.”
“Lucky,” Reefer sighed. “Have you been diving for a while?”
Spencer nodded. “I’ve been certified for a couple years. I’m hoping to go on some private dives without the rest of the group. I don’t really like diving around a lot of people.”
Reefer held the door to the stairwell open for her. “Would you mind some company? I mean, I only got certified last year, but I’m a quick learner, I swear. And I bet you’re a pretty good tour guide.”
Spencer put a finger to her mouth, coyly pretending to contemplate the offer. “But what if I wanted those dives to be private? What do I get in return for bringing you along?”
Reefer paused on the staircase, his eyes sparkling playfully. “How about my most cherished 1977 Grateful Dead concert T-shirt?”
Spencer gave him a skeptical look. “The one you bought off eBay that still smells like pot after all those washings? No thank you.”
“It doesn’t smell like pot!” Reefer urged. “It smells fine. I wear it to school all the time and no one questions me, I swear.”
Spencer secretly felt thrilled at the idea of wearing a T-shirt that Reefer had worn, too. It seemed so … boy-friendly.
They’d reached the door to the Seahorse Gym, the site of the first scuba class, by then. Elliptical machines, stair climbers, and treadmills lined the window wall, and about thirty folding chairs stood on the mats. Kirsten was in the front row, filing her nails. Quite a few kids grabbed coffee and bagels from a catered tray in the back. Tim, the instructor Spencer had met at the Activity Fair the day before, stood over a couple of cardboard boxes, sorting through oxygen tanks and wetsuits.
Spencer faced Reefer again, feeling a tingly, excited rush. Reefer was smiling at her, too.
Then she was suddenly gripped with a wonderful idea. She touched Reefer’s arm. “Let’s ditch.”
Reefer widened his eyes. “Class?”