I clear my throat and slap on a smile. Two can play at this game. “I sure am,” I say to Nikolai.

“Oh, well, we can be partners then—” Walsh starts, but I cut her off.

“No, it’s fine. You go with Graeme and I’ll go with Nikolai. Done and done.” Edging half a step closer to Nikolai, I slip my arm through his. He jerks and stares down at me like I’ve spontaneously started tap dancing.

The way Graeme looks away and his shoulders stiffen has my stomach folding into origami.

Because somehow, even though I’m not sure what the test was, I can’t avoid the nagging feeling that I’ve failed.

15

This is even better than a dinner date. We are here in beautiful nature. Exercising our bodies together, working hard, sweating…”

This was a bad idea.

Our oars plunk through the gentle waves, and no matter how hard I paddle, I can’t escape Nikolai’s incessant chatter.

Because he’s right behind me. In the same kayak.

“Let’s go this way,” I say, jabbing my oar to the left, toward where Graeme and Walsh’s kayak glides parallel to shore. They paddle together in perfect synchronicity past dozens of bright red crabs skittering across a jumble of black lava rocks.

Nikolai dips his oar on the wrong side of the boat and we start drifting to the right.

“No, we have to work together. Watch me… left… right… left… right,” I chant. We pick up speed. My shoulders and upper back muscles burn, but I keep up the grueling pace.

“Oof,” grunts Nikolai. “You are animal. I like your effort.”

We pass three other kayaks as we catch up to Graeme and Walsh. Sweat trickles down the back of my neck, causing the feathery tendrils of loose hair from my ponytail to curl and stick to my skin.

“Yes!” Nikolai crows, like we’re racing in a regatta.

I’ll say this much for Nikolai: he’s competitive. I can respect that.

We’ve finally caught up with Walsh and Graeme. Walsh is still wearing her light pink crop top/sports bra, and she’s sitting in the back of the kayak. In front of her, Graeme’s sleeves are pushed up his muscled forearms.

As we glide past them, he offers me a two-fingered salute. I toss my head in response.

He paddles harder.

So do I.

He grins over at me, forehead glistening.

Behind me, Nikolai stops paddling.

What? Jerking around, I glare at him. He doesn’t notice. He’s taking a picture of a Blue-footed booby diving into the water off the opposite side of our kayak.

Graeme and Walsh pass us. I grunt in annoyance, but don’t say anything.

Nikolai’s a guest. He can take as many pictures as he wants.