Day 4.5
Acapulco
When I wake up hours later, everything feels different. It takes a minute to place what's happened, and I realize we're stopped. I get up, glancing out the tiny window in my cabin, see we're surrounded by other boats at the marina.
I turn on the light in the room, digging through my duffel bag. I've spent the last two days wearing the same clothes, which I am not proud of. I just had zero motivation to take care of how I looked, because after getting sick, my energy was completely drained.
Before I take off my shirt, I look down and see a stain. Might be puke, might be the canned soup Carmen brought me? It's depressing I can't tell the difference. Even more depressing to know that Edward was in here, hours ago, and I looked like… this.
After he left, it took me awhile to fall asleep. I replayed our conversation, many times. I wasn't expecting him to acknowledge the pull between us. I figured we would just flirt and let things linger. But that's not the kind of person he is—he's open and honest, and there's a spark. I'm just not sure if it's wise to act on it.
Regardless, I want to look… decent. Not for Edward, but for my own sanity.
I take the quickest, coldest shower. I decide against washing my hair, since the boat only has a twenty gallon tank and I've been told to conserve water. Instead, I sprinkle a generous amount of dry shampoo onto my head, brush my hair, then my teeth. I pull on my most flattering tank top, a pair of comfortable shorts, and sandals.
It's amazing how little it takes to feel human.
When I'm as presentable as I can be, I climb out of the galley, and up into the cockpit. Marcus is sitting behind the wheel, reading a book.
"Morning, Sunshine," he drawls. "Coffee?"
"Sure," I say, and he hands me an empty mug. "Thanks. What time is it?"
"Almost 7."
"Where is everyone?"
"Carmen walked to the store, Ben is gone and won't be back—he was just hitching a ride here. And I can't ever keep track of Edward and Jasper, but I'm pretty sure they jumped overboard." He's not joking. He also doesn't look concerned, so I'm not either. "The mug is Edward's, but I have a feeling he won't mind," he smirks, grabbing the French press and filling the mug. "How'd ya sleep?"
"Not terrible. Carmen's an angel for finding that anti-nausea patch for me. It honestly helped so much. Do you know where I can find more?"
"Once you get your sea legs, you should be good to go."
I frown in confusion. "Am… I supposed to know what that means?"
Marcus chuckles. "Getting your sea legs just means your brain needs to adjust to the rolling of the sea, and the pitching of the boat. Once you can compensate for all that, things'll start to feel normal. Carmen's picking up more though, just in case."
"I appreciate y'all," I beam. "I'm gonna go drink this over there, let you get back to your book."
He nods as I round the corner, leaving the cockpit. Standing along the back of the boat, I look out at the horizon, the sun still hidden just beneath the water. The sky's a subtle pink, and I watch patiently until the sun finally emerges, turning the pinks into reds. The sky glows, and I'm overwhelmed by how incredibly lucky I am to be here.
I close my eyes, focus on the movement of the boat while it's anchored. It's slow, almost easy, as it gently knocks against the dock. It's nice like this. Peaceful. I'm hoping Marcus is right, and I'm able to enjoy sailing once I get my sea legs.
XXX
Not long after I finish my coffee, there's commotion on the other side of the boat. I glance behind to see Edward and Jasper climbing back on board, soaking wet. They're caught up in conversation until Edward spots me and makes his way over.
"Morning," he says to me, raking a hand through his wet hair. He's wearing board shorts, and nothing else. Nothing other than a grin. "That my mug?"
I give him a sly smile. "Might be. Where were you?" I casually ask.
Jasper tosses him a towel, then disappears again, leaving us alone. Edward half-dries his body before scrubbing his head, drying his hair. "Jas and I went for a dip," he says, laying the towel over the railing. "Water feels amazing this morning."
"It looks amazing," I observe, glancing out at the horizon again.
When I look back at him, his eyes are already on me, lingering. Like he's trying to place something. "You seem different… calmer?"
"I think being anchored has lowered my anxiety," I say honestly. "And you know, not puking and feeling like shit can do wonders for a person."
"It's a good look for you," he muses, eyes twinkling. "So what do you say we grab some food after I get dressed?"
"I'd say is it too early for tequila?"
His grin is wide. "I'd say I know just the place."
XXX
After Edward gets dressed, we decide it is a little early for tequila. Only because the cantina Edward wants to go to, the one he claims has the best ceviche, doesn't open until 10.
So we wander.
We stroll through the marina until we get to the main road, walking in a comfortable silence, waiting for something to pop out at us, something that seems fun or interesting. It's easy being with him like this. The rhythm between us is steady, and I'd say I crave his company more each day. His energy. His infectious attitude.
We pop in and out of a few stores, but it isn't until we pass by an open-air market that Edward's eyes dance with excitement.
"C'mere," he says, grabbing my hand, pulling me behind him into the store. "I want you to try something."
"What?"
He drops my hand, grabs a weird-looking fruit, and hands it to me.
"It's a cherimoya," he informs me.
I stare at it. It's almost heart-shaped, green, and the skin looks like overlapping scales.
"It looks like a reptile," I deadpan.
The cashier, just a couple feet away, over hears me. "No te gusta?" she asks, staring at me. She's older, maybe in her fifties. Her gaze turns to Edward, then back to me. And then her smile widens. "No te gusta?" she asks again.
"I don't know if I like it yet. I haven't tried it. Looks a little strange," I admit, looking at her then to Edward, hoping he will translate. Which he does.
She replies in Spanish, her smile warm and kind. Edward laughs a little, eyes cutting to me before he replies to her. I can't understand their conversation, but whatever he says, she doesn't like, because her face falls and she shakes her head, almost glaring at me.
"What did you do?" I accuse.
"She asked if you're my wife."
"And what did you say?"
"I said that I've proposed many times and you keep turning me down because you're in love with my brother."
"Oh my god," I mutter, wishing I could remember more than a handful of words in Spanish. "Um… lo siento," I say to her. "Donde esta…"
"Okay, you're just embarrassing yourself now," he says, pulling me aside after throwing down some money. "Gracias," he calls out as we stumble out into the street.
"Turn me into a real telenovela whore, why don't you," I drawl, playfully shoving his shoulder.
"Admit it—it was funny."
I'm trying not to smile, but it doesn't last long. "Fine. It was somewhat funny. But I have a serious question, and it's why the hell did you buy this?"
Pulling out his pocket knife, he grabs the fruit from me, cutting it in half, handing me one part. The flesh is white, almost creamy-looking. It doesn't look as bad as the outside.
"I bought it because Mark Twain called it the most delicious fruit known to men," he recalls, focusing on peeling off the skin and removing the seeds. "Therefore, you are required to try it."
"Since when was Mark Twain a food critic?" I joke.
He looks over and laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling. It does something to my heart, but I push it away.
Slicing off a piece of the fruit, he holds it up until it's close to my lips. I pause, unsure if I should take it out of his hand.
"Open," he murmurs, and this time my stomach flutters.
I lean forward a bit, meeting his hand, taking the piece of fruit into my mouth. Some juice runs down my lip to my chin, and he uses his thumb to swipe it away.
"So?" His brows raise. "What do you think?"
"Definitely not the most attractive fruit," I comment, trying to appear unaffected by him. "Sweet and a little tangy. Not what I was expecting at all. I give it a solid B+."
"Fair enough," he concedes, eating some himself. "Shall we wash it down with some tequila?"
"We shall."
XXX
Twenty minutes later, we're settled at a small table outside the front of the cantina, underneath a red umbrella. I order a margarita, he orders a beer.
It's nice out, but scorching. The humidity lingers in the air, sticking to me. And it's not even noon. Sweat drips down the bridge of my nose, and I push my sunglasses up onto my head.
Without thinking, I grab the bottom of my tank top to wipe the sweat off my face.
When I look back up, Edward is staring.
"I just accidentally flashed you, didn't I?" I realize as an afterthought.
"Just me, and the ten people walking by," he laughs. "Don't worry. I don't think anyone was looking," he promises, taking a longer than necessary pull of his beer. "So, what do you wanna do today?"
I dip a chip in some guac, ignoring the awkward moment. "I'm honestly up for whatever."
"Let's see… there's a nature reserve that I haven't been to before, but it might be on a private beach... " he says, trailing off. "We could go to watch the cliff divers at La Quebrada."
I shrug. "Maybe."
"You don't seem intrigued."
"It just doesn't that interesting," I say honestly, sipping my margarita. "I want to do something. Not just sit and watch someone else do it."
"You want to jump off a cliff," he says dryly.
"No. Not yet at least. I just want to do something I wouldn't normally do. You feel me?"
He smirks. "I feel you. The cliff divers are a little touristy, anyway. We can find better ways to spend our time."
"On second thought," I say, tapping my chin, "maybe I do want to spend the afternoon looking at men in speedos."
"If that's your thing, I could just put mine on."
"Seriously?" I'm not particularly a fan of the tiny-ass swimsuits, usually finding them a little tacky, and not that appealing. But the idea of Edward in one is something I could not pass up. "You own a speedo?"
"No. But by the way your face lit up, I might need to get one."
"Shut up." I throw a chip at him, hoping he thinks my flushed cheeks are from the tequila. "We could surf?" I suggest, changing the subject.
He half-smiles, brows pulling together, looking impressed. "You know how to surf?"
"What I meant is that you could teach me how to surf," I correct.
"Ah," he chuckles. "We could go over some basics, but Acapulco has a lot of ankle busters—"
"I'm gonna need you to not speak in surfer slang."
He throws a chip at me this time. "The waves aren't that great. They're too small to ride. But I guess since you're a quimby—oh sorry, I mean, beginner," he clarifies, amused with himself, "the size of the waves won't really matter much. I know a good beach we could head to after this, if you're actually up for it."
My smile mirrors his, excited and tipsy and open. "Definitely up for it."
"Good."
We fall into an easy silence, my mind wandering.
"What would you be doing right now if I weren't here?" I ask, curious.
"You're looking at it."
"You'd be eating chips and salsa, washing it down with a beer, with a female?"
His eyes narrow playfully. "I meant more like, I wouldn't have a plan. I'd kinda just go with whatever comes up. Nothing we've done so far today was planned. You wanted tequila, you got tequila. You decided you want to go surf, so we are."
"So you basically let someone else plan for you," I grin, giving him shit.
"If you want to look at it that way, sure. But I only agree to things I want to do, things that make me happy. That are worthwhile. There's nothing worse than being a yes person. Say no sometimes," he stresses. "It's good for your soul."
His words resonate with me. "I like that philosophy."
"What would you be doing right now if you weren't here?" he counters.
I shrug. "I don't want to think about life back home right now."
"Why not?"
"Because I'd be doing the same old thing: overthinking, stalling, and settling. I don't want to repeat that cycle anymore. For once, I like where I am."
"I like where you are, too," he murmurs.
Feeling emboldened by the moment, I lock eyes with him and admit, "You might've noticed I'm kinda drawn to you."
His gaze softens. "You might've noticed the feeling is mutual."
"But I'm worried if we act on it, and something goes wrong, the entire trip will be wrecked." I pause. "But on the other hand, I'm worried if we don't explore this, we'll be missing out."
"You're overthinking," he points out. "Didn't you want to break that cycle?"
Fuck. He's right.
Something inside me ignites, and I'm caving even more to the idea of him. I'm not sure if it's because of the tequila, or an overall feeling of not wanting to stand in my own way anymore. Or maybe it's his philosophy, lingering in the back of my mind. Because yes, exploring what can happen with Edward is definitely worthwhile. Even if it doesn't work out.
"Fine," I concede, changing my tone. "Whatever happens between us, can happen. I'm not gonna go out of my way to stop this."
With a warm, hopeful smile, Edward leans forward and says, "Good. I was hoping you'd say that."
Thank you for reading! And thanks to Patrizia for helping, and putting up with me all week! :)