‘So,’ he says. He has sunglasses on, so I can’t tell what colour blue his eyes are, which is my main indicator of his mood. So far, they’ve been dark when he’s angry, grey when he’s confused and light blue when he’s happy. Pretty much the darker they are, the angrier he is. I wonder if I ever thought this much about anyone else’s eyes. I don’t think I have.

‘So?’ I reply.

‘Millie Paxton,’ he says.

I hesitate. I don’t want to lie, so I try to think of something I can say that isn’t confirmation of his statement.

‘Hugh Harris.’

‘Nice to meet you in person.’ He lowers his sunglasses to the bridge of his nose. He’s staring at me so intently that his gaze feels hotter than the South Pacific sun.

‘I wish I could say the same.’

‘I knew you were a typical American girl, but I have to say I’m surprised you follow the stereotype so completely.’

I smile at the mention of our DMs before I register what he said. Confused, I cock my head at him until he gestures at my T-shirt. When I glance down, I can’t help but burst out laughing. I packed a few of my dad’s old shirts for the trip, all oversized and worn down to a threadbare, light layer, perfectly doubling as swimsuit cover-ups. This one happens to feature a drawing of French fries dancing across a McDonald’s logo.

‘Oh my God!’ I press my palm into my forehead. ‘I swear, I did not pick this on purpose.’

Hugh’s abs contract with his laughter, deep and rumbly. ‘I figured it may not belong to you considering it looks older than you are.’

He’s right, there are holes along the hem and the seam of the left shoulder is coming undone.

‘It’s my dad’s,’ I explain.

‘So it runs in the family.’ He raises his eyebrows.

‘I am not going to apologise for being patriotic,’ I say, pushing my sunglasses further up my nose. ‘I happen to like this T-shirt. It’s appropriately vintage, not like you would know.’

Hugh’s wheezing with laughter now.

I glare at him.

‘What?’ he asks, seeing the annoyed look on my face. He wipes a tear from his eye. ‘I’m not even laughing at the T-shirt anymore. I just can’t believe I’m stuck on a boat with you of all people. And we’re sharing a room!’ He dissolves into laughter again.

‘And I can’t believe you’re able to contort your mouth into something that isn’t a frown.’

‘I’m capable of quite a few emotions,’ Hugh informs me, although his mouth settles back into a line.

‘And I’m surprised you’ve found a happy one considering Vanessa just proved my point,’ I retort.