“No red meat.”
“Tofu scramble?”
Finn leveled me with a stare. “She doesn’t eat soy.”
I threw my hands up. “Air?”
That finally pulled a full-bodied laugh from him, his head tipping back as his shoulders shook. I tried not to let the sound of it affect me, but it was impossible — it had been my favorite sound once.
“Perfect. I’ll serve her a nice plate of oxygen, seasoned with despair.”
“If you’re still as good as you were in Greece, it’ll be the best plate of oxygen she’s ever had,” I said, and without thinking, my hand found his wrist and squeezed as an encouraging smile found my lips.
Of course, that smile slid off my face like butter on a hot skillet when that touch resonated, when Finn stopped laughing and stared at the point of contact. I swore I felt the heat of it crackle between us, like a live wire sparking, something dangerous and familiar in the way his gaze lifted — slow, hesitant, burning.
For one breath, neither of us moved.
For one breath, I considered what would happen if I let my touch wander up, if I leaned into him and pressed my lips to his just to see if it felt the same.
But on the next breath, I remembered his girlfriend was on this very boat with us.
I cleared my throat, yanking my hand away. My fingers clenched reflexively before I busied them in my ponytail. “Well, I think we both need a good night’s rest to face these guests tomorrow. See you in the morning.”
It wasn’t just the stark realization that he was dating Gisella that had me scurrying off that bench. It was me remembering who I was now, who I had been after he’d left me broken and how long it’d taken me to recover. It was memories of late nights and whispered confessions, of hope curdling into heartbreak, of the years I spent trying to forget him — only to find him in front of me now, close enough to touch and yet so untouchable, unfamiliar and yet so familiar it hurt.
Finn didn’t try to stop me as I left. He stayed silent and still until I ducked into my cabin, pressing the door shut behind me and leaning my head against it as a pained breath left my chest. My face burned, heart pounding like it wanted to rewind time to that moment before I touched him, before I let myself forget.
I knew the cameras had caught all of that, and it only had my stomach sinking more.
I had to get it together. I had to find a way to not let that man affect me.
And fast.
POST-PRODUCTION CONFESSIONAL
CLOSE QUARTERS
SEASON 4
ELIJAH JOUBERT: DECKHAND
PRODUCER
Tell us about yourself, Eli, as if you were talking to the viewer for the first time.
ELI
Well, my name is Elijah, but my mates call me Eli. I’m from Cape Town, South Africa, and I’ve been in yachting for a couple of years now. I’m pretty green when it comes to a boat this size, but eager to work… and play, of course.
PRODUCER
What made you want to work on a yacht?
ELI
You mean besides the money? I mean, come on — traveling the world, working on luxury yachts, jolling on my days off? That’s the dream, isn’t it? Course, no one tellsyou about the actual job part. Or the part where you’re trapped on a floating tin can with a bunch of beautiful, emotionally unstable people for eight weeks straight.
PRODUCER