‘Private tour, remember?’
‘Oh, right – makes sense.’
But I’m only partly listening, because the closer we get, the harder it becomes to breathe.
‘Hey.’ I look over and Nick’s watching me. ‘Still time to back out.’
‘Nuh-uh. I told you, I’m doing it,’ I reply, trying to sound way more confident than I’m feeling.
‘Here,’ says Nick, holding out a hand.
I hesitate for a second – should we be holding hands? – but then I figure he’s just being supportive, and I take it. It’s strong and warm, and it does help ease my nerves – my palm pressed against his and the pad of his thumb running along the back of mine – but there’s also that current surging between us again.
But way more worrying is the gaping mouth of the cave, black and foreboding like a monster’s.
‘Oh, fuck,’ I say, huffing out a breath. Nick squeezes my hand and before I can back out, we’re inside the tunnel and the guy tells us to get down. And boy do I get down. I squeeze my eyes shut, lying so flat against the bottom of the boat, you could slice me into strips, boil me in salted water, and serve me with burnt-butter-and-sage sauce.
Moments later, it gets super quiet and Nick nudges me.
‘Delaney,look,’ he whispers.
I slowly open my eyes, but everything’s dark.Duh– sunglasses! I take them off but now all I can see is rock with some wavy reflections.
‘Hmm,’ I mutter.
‘You might want to…’ Nick says, tugging on my hand.
Double duh.I prop myself and look around, drinking in the brilliant-blue water. ‘Holy shit,’ I say. It echoes throughout the grotto and Nick chuckles.
‘Yeah, not bad, eh?’
‘It’s soblue. I mean, that probably sounds dumb, but…wow.’
Our guide slowly rows us around the cavern, and I lean to the side and dip my hand in the water. It’s icy – but it’s awesome seeing the blueish silhouette of my distorted hand below the surface.
There are only a handful of boats, with an occasional burst of laughter and some hushed murmurs. Everyone seems to be as in awe as we are, sharing a reverence for the Blue Grotto’s intense beauty.
I find myself leaning against Nick, our shoulders touching and our hands clasped, but instead of questioning it, I let myself be, taking in long, slow breaths of the cool, mineral air, letting it fill me up with calm.
I could stay in here for hours.
And Isowant to shoot something here – for now, a non-existent scene in an unwritten screenplay – butsomething. It’d take a world-class cinematographer to capture this kind of beauty – and a giant pair of scissors to cut through the red tape to get approval – but it would be worth it.
Way too soon, our guide dips a paddle into the water and steers us towards the entrance. My heart drops – not by far, maybe a half-inch – but a drop all the same.
I wish we could stay longer.
I don’t even stress about leaving the grotto the same way we came in, because once we clear its mouth and I’m blinking at the bright sunlight, all I want is to go back inside.
‘Pretty spectacular, huh?’ asks Nick with a grin, nudging my shoulder with his.
I slip my sunglasses on, then turn my head. ‘Yeah… I have no words.’
I look down out our clasped hands, clocking the little flip of my stomach.
‘Oh, sorry,’ says Nick, quickly letting go. And now I’m positive – he feels it too, thecurrent.
‘No, no, uh… all good,’ I stammer. ‘That was really sweet of you – thanks.’