‘It seems like it.’ I clutch the railing to make sure I’m out of his way. We chat about the weather and the trips he’s done in the past. He’s cute, with an easy charm about him. This is his fifth trip. The question I’m desperate to ask is wriggling to the front of my brain. He’s so nice and we’re alone, so it seems like the perfect time.

‘Hey, Miguel,’ I say, interrupting him checking the air pressure on an oxygen tank.

He looks up, sensing the trepidation in my voice. His eyebrows press together, and his dark eyes grow big with worry. The colour drains from his face.

‘Are you going to be sick?’ he asks, reaching out a hand to steady me.

‘Oh, no, I feel fine!’ I say quickly.

The colour quickly returns to his cheeks, and he laughs. ‘I’m not good with puke,’ he confides in a whisper, ‘it freaks me out.’

‘Me too!’ I agree. ‘Someone else puking usually makes me sick.’ Miguel and I share a conspiratorial look that says, Nobody better be puking on this boat. Satisfied, he returns to checking air pressure. ‘What’s up?’

‘I was actually wondering if you could give me a refresher. I haven’t dived in a while, and I want to make sure I have a good handle on the equipment.’ I’m so nervous to ask that I stumble over some of my words, but Miguel doesn’t notice.

‘Sure thing!’ he says. ‘Come back up here when we’re closer to the reef, in another two hours or so, and I’ll run over everything with you.’ He holds my stare for a beat longer than normal, and I wonder if he’s like this with everyone on the boat.

‘Thanks,’ I say, breaking eye contact. I can’t help but feel a wave of relief. Miguel was nice about it, flirty, but nice, and no one else from the boat heard me ask. A marine biologist needing a dive refresher isn’t exactly in Millie’s notes for how to blend in.

I turn around to head back towards the benches to sit with the rest of the group and bump straight into someone’s chest. It’s so unyielding that I practically bounce backwards off it. And it smells slightly of cedar.

‘Ah!’ I cry out, although I am the only one who seems to be affected by our collision, seeing as the chest is immobile. I curse the narrow walkways of the boat. I’m bound to be bumping into people all week. I blink up into the face of the man I just hit as a deep voice grumbles back.

‘No worries,’ Hugh says, but he doesn’t move. Our torsos are so close we are centimetres from touching.