“Your turn,” Sophie added, topping up her champagne at the bar while pointing over to Danial, “and Dev hasn’t gone yet.”

“Go easy on me.” Dev laughed, his arm still wrapped around Bee.

“Uh, yeah,” Danial said, still facing Alex. “Umm actually, I’ll be right back.”

Wordlessly, he placed the bottle and shaker back on the table. He paused for a moment before heading down the stairs and toward the cabins, tossing the lime in the garbage on the way out.

For a moment, no one spoke, Alex still on the bench, stomach and neck still damp where he had been.

“What the hell?” Bee pouted. “We can’t play without everyone, that’s no fun.”

“You should bring him back.” Paul smirked at Alex. “So we can finish the game.”

“Sure,” she said, coming to stand before she realized what she was doing. “I can do that.”

Alex smoothed out her skirt as she crossed the room, feeling all eyes on her as she headed down the stairs and walked the long mahogany hallway. The nautical paintings blurred in her peripheral vision, and the slight movement of the boat left her feeling more unsteady than usual. She came to a stop in front of Danial’s cabin door, knowing that whatever waited on the other side of it would have to be acknowledged head-on, and took a deep breath before knocking.

“Danial?” she whispered, nearly pressed to the wood, “are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he answered, less quietly than her. “I’ll be right back.”

“Are you sure?” When there was no reply, she continued. “I’m not leaving until I know you’re okay, seriously.”

She heard him cross the room, pausing briefly before he turned the heavy brass knob and pulled the door open. His face was drawn, ashen. “Come in.”

“What’s wrong?” She asked, closing the door behind her. “Did I do something?”

“No.”

“Come on, come back upstairs. It was just a stupid dare.”

He paused, appraising her, before laughing in a quiet, almost delirious way.

“I am not doing this again,” he finally said.

“Doing what?”

“Letting you hide behind the game.” He exhaled, wiping a hand across his face with exhaustion. “Or a car ride. Or the future fucking Prime Minister of Spain.”

Her voice went weak, terrified and thrilled by the directness of his words.

“What do you mean?” she said, still testing.

“You know exactly what I mean.”

Her breath was shallow, and she pressed her back to the door to steady herself. “I thought at lunch, you wanted to be—”

“Don’t you dare call me your fucking friend again.”

“You… don’t want to be my friend?”

He laughed to himself with that same light madness.