‘Every day for lunch or like just today?’

I crack an eye open. ‘Hmmm . . . what about both?’

‘Okay,’ Hugh leans forward. ‘Today, fish and chips. I couldn’t eat it every day, but we’ve been working hard out here and, man, does that sound good. For every day . . . a salad maybe or a grain bowl. Something light.’

‘Something light?’ I tease. ‘You sound like you’re on the cover of a women’s magazine.’

‘Well, you said every day. I can’t be eating a hamburger for lunch every day. What would you eat?’

I pause, mulling it over. ‘Today, I would eat a BLT on an everything bagel. Every day . . . I guess a salad,’ I mumble the last bit.

‘A salad?’ Hugh howls. ‘You hypocrite!’

‘Oh, come on, it was weirder when you said it.’

Our conversation continues as we clear our plates, sneak a couple more Oreos and reapply sunscreen. Casually, Hugh hands me the sunscreen bottle and asks, ‘When you’re done making fun of me, can you get my back?’

‘Wait!’ he says, when I’m centimetres away from placing my sunscreened palms onto his shoulder blades. ‘I didn’t hand you the sunscreen you brought, did I?’

‘Hugh Harris, I swear to God, do you want me to help you or not?’

‘Fine,’ he says, with a chuckle.

Tentatively, I spread sunscreen over his tanned, muscular shoulders. I rub into his neck, and down to the hem of his swimsuit. This is the most we’ve touched, and I ache to think of a way to fill the silence. I feel jittery all over, like I just drank six cups of coffee.

‘Want me to get you?’ he asks.

My mouth is so dry I can only nod in response. His hands are strong and so large that they cover most of my back without even moving. In slow circles, he massages the lotion across my shoulder blades, slides a hand underneath the strap of my swimsuit, and works his way down my back to the hemline of my bottoms. With a single finger, he rubs sunscreen right up against the line of my swimsuit.

I feel so weak at the knees that I grab the table to steady myself as soon as Hugh turns to head upstairs. When I meet him back on deck, he dives back into our back and forth without a second thought. I feel like my head is filled with cotton. We get comfortable, both of us reclined. I listen to Hugh explain to me why coral bleaching is, actually, the best example of climate change, and my eyes slowly start to close. The rocking of the boat is lulling me to sleep. The sun is beating down relentlessly. My last thought before I fall asleep is that his accent is melodious, it’s like listening to a song.