‘Wanna race?’ he says, and I feel like I’m back at elementary school.

I look at him again. He has long legs, ropy calves, a classic runner’s build. But he’s older, too, maybe ten years, and I know the shorter distances are my strength.

‘How far?’

‘One lap. Ending here. Loser buys dinner.’

I raise an eyebrow. ‘Prepare to lose.’

‘How ’bout you save your shit talking for when you’ve won. Ready, set, go!’

I’m slower to start since he caught me by surprise, but I make up for it at the end of the straight, letting my legs take over, keeping my breath shallow and steady, torso strong, arms low. There’s less of me to carry. Around the corner I get the inside edge and pass him, and though his legs are longer I can tell he is a typical endurance runner. He doesn’t lean forwards and take advantage of his stride, which is more of a shuffle. The adrenaline of being in front takes over and when my arms start to feel heavy and burn I push through. I think of Ash on his skateboard, whooshing past. This guy’s feet hammer behind me, thud, thud, thud, but not coming closer, not catching up, and my feet hardly make a sound. I put the last of what I have into my legs and collapse where we began, knees bent with my palms on my thighs, my heart in my ears, my lungs on fire.

‘Damn,’ he says, once he can speak. ‘Do your feet even touch the ground?’

I grin. ‘Looks like you owe me dinner, and that means not just the free buffet.’

‘Do I look like that kind of guy?’ His hair is plastered to his forehead from the rain, cheeks splotchy and pink. I know my own face is bright red, but I can feel my skin begin to cool, goosebumps rising.

‘How about dinner with the captain, tonight at seven, on the bridge of the ship?’

I look to see if he’s joking but his face is serious. ‘Um, how does that happen?’

He holds out his hand. ‘Alex Jackson. Second mate.’

We shake, our hands slippery with sweat and rain. I can’t believe I just raced the second mate. It’s hard to imagine feeling more embarrassed than I am right now. Keep cool, I think.

‘Hannah Fray. I didn’t think there were many passengers my age.’

‘The demographic is more retired, isn’t it?’

‘That and families.’

‘Overfed or nearly dead. So you’ll come? I’ll see you at seven? Dress is a little more formal than the regular dining room.’

‘That means flip-flops? Sweatpants? College t-shirts?’

‘Probably not.’

I rub the goosebumps on my arms with my palms. ‘Okay. But one condition.’

‘What’s that?’

‘I bring my grandma.’

He doesn’t miss a beat: ‘Grandmas are compulsory.’

‘See you then.’

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