My Greek SEAL (9 page)

I turn my head away for a moment, gazing longingly at the deep blue water. I’m already anticipating the soothing sensation of warm water massaging my head and muscles, the comforting silence the underwater world will provide. The sea will wash away my headache and the brain fog. If only it could wash away the mistake I made last night. God, I hope he doesn’t tell anyone. Some guys love to brag about their conquests. I try to relax my jaw when I realize I’m grinding my molars.

“So that we all finish about the same time, the green group will start first, followed ten minutes later by the orange group,” says Libby. “Twenty minutes after the first group starts, the pink group swimmers will start out.”

The green group is the slowest swimmers, the orange group the intermediate level swimmers and the pink group—the one Eros and I were assigned—is the fastest one.

“Whenever I say RIB, I’m referring to one of our inflatable boats. I will follow the green group in one of the RIBs,” Libby says. “Mike will stay with the orange group in the other one.”

Mike stands leaning against the deck railing, ankles crossed, wearing dark glasses and a blank expression. He merely nods.

“The pink group swimmers will swim alongside the
Ionian Goddess
. Does anyone have any questions?”

“What if we get tired and don’t want to swim anymore,” Randy asks.

“That’s why you have us for support. We will provide drinks along the way and be ready to help anyone that gets into trouble. You can climb onboard the boat anytime you need to. Now if there are no more questions, we need to gear up for the swim. Mike and I will walk around with some grease in case you ladies want us to put it underneath the straps of your swimming costumes.”

Everyone dashes in different directions, yanking off T-shirts and cover-ups, applying sunscreen and snatching goggles, caps and underwater cameras from waterproof bags. I’m not sure where Eros is at the moment.

Mike walks by asking if anyone wants the lube. “Sure, I’ll take some.”

I raise my shoulder straps so he can smear on the grease. He smoothes on a thick coat before moving on to Maryann. Her swimsuit straps are thick and fit loosely and I can’t help thinking she needs the ointment much more than I do. The racing suit I’m wearing has thin, smooth straps that never chafed me in the pool.

I pull my pink cap over my head and start tucking in my hair. Heat climbs up the back of my neck when Eros reaches over to straighten one of my swimsuit straps. “Whoever greased you up left you twisted.” His touch is so disarming. A smile spreads over my face and my heart races. He isn’t avoiding me. Maybe he wants our wild ride to continue.

I close my eyes and breathe in his familiar woodsy scent. He smells so damn good, my nipples harden and my crotch dampens. I need control now, not distraction. I have to know how he feels about what happened last night before I allow myself to get swept away with runaway feelings. “Hmm.”

“You can straighten my straps if you want to, love.” Maryann winks at him and wiggles her shoulders. There’s a mischievous flash in her green eyes.

“Hey, wait a minute. Don’t I get to do that?” Randy moves toward her with a swift, athletic stride. Facing her, he reaches out and straightens one of her swimsuit straps, allowing his hand to linger. Their gazes meet, both of them smile and then exchange a look that suggests their relationship is one of love and close connection.

Watching them makes me feel suddenly sad. I’ve never had an even close to decent relationship with a guy before. I can’t even imagine what it would be like to have a man by my side to laugh with, talk to at any hour of the day or night and to travel with. Maybe I could have that kind of relationship with Eros. It seems really unlikely considering I slept with him the second we had time alone together. But he did just touch me and talk to me... Maybe what happened last night meant something to him? The sex was wild, but I felt something, too, even though I’d had way much to drink. I fell a connection to him beyond just our bodies. Maybe he’s willing to give whatever’s going on between us a chance.

It must be amazing to have a relationship like Maryann and Randy have, I tell myself. To wake up every morning to see the man you love with messy hair and sleep in his eyes. When an image of Eros with hair more tangled than ever and wearing only boxer shorts pops into my mind, the logical side of my brain pushes that image aside. Stop thinking about this as more than it is. Any man will have sex. You don’t know Eros wants anything more.

Libby maneuvers her RIB alongside the
Ionian Goddess
. “Let’s have all the greenies in the water,” she shouts. Sherry, Scott, and Jan climb down the ladder and start their swim.

When Mike asks the orange group to enter the water, Maryann walks toward the ladder and then turns back to look at me. “Enjoy your swim, love.”

“You, too. The water looks amazing.”

Randy has already descended the ladder and is treading water waiting for her. Maryann turns around and starts stepping down the ladder. With only her face still visible, she says, “Once we get across the channel, I’ll be a lot more relaxed.”

“You’ll do great,” I say.

Finally, it’s our turn. I dash to the edge of the boat, whip my body around and descend two rungs of the ladder. I take a youthful leap into the air before splashing down into the warm, salty sea. The gentle waves seem to embrace me, welcoming me back. I want to shout woo hoo I’m so elated. This is such a contrast with the depression and lethargy I felt just hours ago.

This trip is just what I needed. It wasn’t a mistake. I am supposed to be out here in the Ionian Sea right now. Coming here allowed me to shuck off depressed me and start feeling alive again.

As I wait for Eros and Margie to join me, I peer underwater. The water’s shallow and rocky, but quickly drops off into a deep blue abyss. I wonder how deep the water is in the channel. It could be one hundred or eight hundred feet for all I know. Once again the thought of staying in Greece pops into my mind. I don’t ever want to go back to that lonely apartment and feel that shroud of gloom descend on me again. I want to start over. That’s crazy. No normal person would do that. Still, this crazy whim is wildly appealing. I’m damn near broke, but how much could it cost to live on this remote island?

Random thoughts race through my head. If I did the crazy thing, could I find a job? As a waitress, a sales clerk, a boat hand? If not, could I rent a place with an Internet connection so I could attempt to get started as a writer? Maryann said she’d connect me with people and I have so many article ideas bouncing around in my head. I have a marketing degree after all. I should be able to sell myself to an editor. I write all the time and have more than passable skills. Plus it would be so cool. A journalist. An author. I’ll be able to work anywhere.

A school of hundreds of silver fish swim below me, not seeming to mind my proximity. I hear the splash of Eros and Margie entering the water. I wonder how he’ll act during the swim. Will he talk to me? Touch me? Ask if I want to do something with him tonight after the swims?

I raise my head and tread water, squinting under the intense sunlight. I can’t help wondering why Margie didn’t wear a rash guard. Any part of her skin that isn’t glow in the dark is dotted with freckles. Whether she’s wearing sunscreen or not, she’s likely to look like a lobster by the end of the day.

“Are you ready to start?” Eros asks.

I give him a thumbs up sign.

“I’m as ready as I ever will be, mate,” says Margie.

“Why don’t we sight on that beach that’s inside that small peninsula.” Eros points toward the distant island.

We have a lot of water to cross to get there. I see more than one beach and want to make sure I’ll be swimming toward the right one. “The one where there are a bunch fir trees above it?”

“Yes, that one. Why don’t you lead the way, Speedy? But don’t forget about us.”

“Would you please stop acting like I’m going to abandon you? “

“You shouldn’t be so defen—“

I know that he’s right, but I’m not in the mood for a debate. I submerge my head and start swimming. There. Finally, some silence. That’s the joy of swimming. The clutter in my mind slowly disperses. I think about Eros for a long while as I pull and kick and breathe. How he sets me on fire almost as much as he rakes on my nerves. I know sometimes I get mad at him because he says something that is too true and it makes me uncomfortable that he notices what I’m trying to hide. If I could trust him, maybe I wouldn’t be so scared. But I keep wondering if he’ll use my weaknesses against me like Nora did.

The beds of limestone on the bottom below drop off as the water transforms from blue green to a richer blue. Soon my entire underwater field of view is nothing but endless, deep blue water. A white umbrella-shaped jellyfish appears in front of me, bright and luminous, standing out in stark contrast to the background of endless cerulean water.

I swerve out of its path and shout and point at it so Eros and Margie can avoid it. I raise my head every several strokes to ensure I’m staying on course and headed for the peninsula we’ve chosen as a landing sight. The seas are rough. I almost swallow water half of the time. With no bottom to look at and the water sloshing us all over the place, sighting on that landmark is the only way to tell if I’m swimming straight. My neck muscles start to scream from lifting my head forward so many times. I start breathing on my non-preferred side so I can guess if I’m drifting closer or further from the
Ionian Goddess
instead of doing the torturous head-raising thing.

The surf roughens. My body is carried up a wave crest and then falls down into a trough. It’s hard to enter the water with a nice slice of the hand. Too often a wave slams into my hand during the reach, pushing it sideways so my entry into the water is awkward. Am I even going anywhere? It’s hard to tell since I can’t see the bottom and the landmark I’m sighting on looks about as far away now as it did when we started.

There is so much to think about while swimming in the ocean. Sighting on the distant peninsula so I stay on course. Not swallowing a mouthful of water whenever I breathe. And stopping periodically to make sure the other two swimmers are still with me. This is a challenge. The perimeter swim will be more fun. Over there, we’ll be protected from the open sea. We’ll be able to drift along without much effort and stand on the limestone bottom if we want to rest.

I clench my jaw and start counting strokes. Each set of four is taking me a little closer. At least I hope so. Feeling exhausted, I stop swimming freestyle and do a few breaststroke pulls and kicks. I hear Eros’ labored breathing.

I roll over on my back so I can speak to Margie and Eros. “Are you guys doing okay?”

“I didn’t expect it to be so rough,” says Margie.

“You are doing much better keeping a steady kick. Do you want to keep swimming or should I flag down Dmitri?” Eros asks.

Margie shakes her head. “I knew it wouldn’t be easy. I’m going to keep going as long as I can.”

Dmitri calls out to us from the boat and Eros yells back that everything’s fine.

“We should probably get going,” he says.

I lead the way again, adopting a slightly slower pace. I don’t want Margie to have to struggle to keep up with me. I slice my hands into the water and pull through the water while kicking my feet just enough to keep me buoyant. There’s a rhythm to my stroke now, even though I’m being tossed by waves.

When we started, I only saw the hazy outlines of the distant island. Now I see a rocky shoreline, a small house, and hills covered with olive trees and flat-topped firs. I stop periodically to clear my goggles, which keep fogging up. This snapshot view of the land we’re approaching motivates me to keep going. Continuing to stroke along, I exhale air and a stream of bubbles, relieved to see the deep cerulean blue water below me pale to aquamarine. Once the limestone bottom appears below me, I swim further into the shallows where we can touch bottom and then stop, knowing my companions will be as eager as I am for the break.

“Brilliant swim maties, we made it,” says Margie. Her broad smile reconfigures the freckles on her sheet white face. We’ve only been swimming for forty-five minutes and already the Mediterranean sun has kissed her cheeks and nose pink.

Dmitri anchors the boat about thirty feet away. I’m assuming he can’t come in too close to shore without hitting bottom. He tosses bottles of juice and water attached to rope so we can rehydrate.

Eros grabs the first bottle that splashes nearby and passes it to me. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” My mouth feels parched and tastes salty. I guzzle the water with relish until I feel slightly nauseous. Despite the motion sickness pills I swallowed in the morning, the tossing sea has affected me.

“Are you all right dear?” asks Margie. “You look a fright.”

“I’m fine. I probably should have taken another motion sickness pill after lunch.”

“We’ve still got at least a couple of kilometers left to swim, but swimming around the islands is much less difficult than channel crossing,” Eros raises his goggles to his forehead. Deep lines are visible around his eyes from the goggles.

“We can only hope,” I answer. “That was tough.”

“Don’t worry, this swim is on the leeward side of Kalamos Island. The water will be calm and you won’t have to lift your head to see. You can just look at the bottom and the shoreline to see where to swim. We’ve almost caught the green group swimmers so we should be able to swim at a slow pace without delaying anyone.”

“That sounds good to me,” says Margie.

Once we finish drinking our fill of water and juice, Dmitri reels in the ropes.

“Are we ready?” I ask.

The other two nod and pull their goggles back over their eyes. I reposition my goggles and put my head down to swim. As I get back into the rhythm of my stroke, the discomfort in my neck and the nausea gradually ease. The water is smooth and warmer along the coast. Following the limestone contours of the shoreline is easy. I breathe every three strokes so I can see how far the boat is from us on the other side.