“Were those the actions of a scared person?” I ask overconfidently. “Okay, I might be a little bit scared of it.”
I see Bennett’s eyes pop behind his sunglasses. “Say no more, we’ll do something else,” he says, starting to climb out of the boat.
“No, no! I’ll be okay. You planned a picnic and rented a boat. I’ll feel bad if I ruin your plans,” I say, holding my hands up to stop him. “Honestly.”
Bennett looks unsure. “Okay. You’ll let me know if you feel like it’s too much? Say the word and I’ll turn this ship right back around.”
I laugh. “Sure.”
Bennett whips out his phone and starts tapping on the screen. “Horses tend to be adventurous, but I may have interpreted the term adventurous too loosely. Let me see here,” he says, staring at his device.
“What are you doing?” I ask, looking around at the other tourists on the dock. “Are you reading an article right now?”
“I’m trying to see what other traits I may have missed,” he says, moving his finger up the screen. “I totally missed the mark.”
“What? No,” I say, somewhat pleased to be continuously proved right. “Not every animal sign embodies every single one of their traits. Or if they do identify with a trait, it takes getting to know someone to truly understand what that means to each specific person. Sorry to say, but you’re going to have to get to know me.”
“I would love that,” he says before scrunching his forehead. “I’ll need to think through how to handle that on the app better. See? I’m learning every day.”
“Don’t worry about it. But if I don’t walk onto solid ground or get in the boat, my legs won’t be able to support me for much longer.”
Bennett springs into action. “Right. Sorry. Let’s try this again.”
He steadies himself in the boat and holds both arms out toward me. I place my hands on his shoulders, stepping slowly into the boat. Our bodies are as close as they were at the Getty, sending my mind down a dangerous path.
“There we go,” he says, watching me closely.
Bennett pulls out what looks like a life vest for a baby out from under one of the seats.
“Thanks,” I mumble, distractedly reaching for the vest.
“This isn’t for you,” he says. He straps the baby life vest around the sack of flour.
I laugh out loud at the absurdity and feel slightly more relaxed.
“This one’s for you,” Bennett says, handing me a neon yellow life vest.
I speedily tighten the life vest around my body and carefully wobble over to the seats. I plant myself onto the bench in the front of the boat so I have clear visibility.
“Ready?” he asks. Bennett starts up the boat, the engine roaring to life and settling into a rumbling purr. “Let me know at any point if you want to turn back.”
“So far so good,” I say, focusing my eyes on the waves in front of us. I look to see how far I’d have to jump from the boat to the dock. In my dreams, I could probably successfully stick a five-foot landing, but before I can make this a reality, we’re ten feet away from the dock.
I don’t say anything while Bennett navigates us out of the marina for fear of him losing focus and the boat capsizing.
My body remains tight and curled as I focus on my breathing. Once there’s enough fresh air in my lungs, I attempt to make small talk.
“Why didn’t you start ZodiaCupid over here?” I ask, gesturing toward the beach. “I’d have pegged you as a Silicon Beach guy.”
“Way too expensive,” he says, casually holding the steering wheel in one hand. “I won’t deny that being able to walk to the beach for lunch breaks would be a huge perk, but then I never would have met you.”
I smile to myself. “Are you a big boater?”
“Not as much as I’d like. My dad loves fishing, so I spent a lot of time on the water with him as a kid.”
A wave rolls toward us, rocking the boat from side to side. I quickly grab for the railing. The flour baby bounces in the seat and then goes overboard. We watch as it bobs up and down in the choppy waves. Bennett looks over the side of the boat and laughs.
“Don’t look at me! I’m not going in there,” I say.
Bennett maneuvers the boat closer to the flour. He reaches out for it, lifting the bag out of the ocean by the life vest straps.
“Last I checked, fish don’t eat paper or flour,” he says. “You want to steer? It’s like driving a car, but instead of asphalt the roads are made of water.”
“You can’t drown in the roads,” I murmur. I shakily waddle over to the middle of the boat and position myself between him and the helm. I tightly grip the sun-warmed silver wheel. “Look, I’m steering!”
Bennett shifts behind me. “You’re doing great!”
Ahead of us, a large boat angles in our direction.
“What do I do?” I scream, rotating the wheel frantically.
“Just stay the course, captain,” he says, wrapping his hands over mine on the wheel. “They’ll move.”
The other boat navigates away from us.
“See? Trust me,” he whispers into my ear. I shiver when his breath meets the side of my neck.
A long, deep breath helps calm me after my slight overreaction. His hands are still covering mine as we steer the boat to our own patch of open sea to free float. When Bennett removes his hands from mine, my fingers immediately feel cold.
“Hungry?” Bennett reaches into the tote bag.
“Very,” I admit, slowly walking to the front of the boat.
Bennett follows closely behind, keeping one hand under my arm to help stabilize me. “I wanted to make you my famous cacio e pepe but thought Italian sub sandwiches were a more practical choice.”
“I love cacio e pepe. Few but quality ingredients. Creamy, spicy, cheesy. It’s—”
“—true love, I remember,” Bennett says.
Bennett reveals a container with two large sandwiches. He holds it out to let me choose from the two options.
“Oh, right. Of course. My original profile.” I pick up one of the sandwiches and study its contents. Between the vinegar-and-oil-drizzled sliced loaves are tomatoes, lettuce, thinly sliced onions, herbs, salami, ham, and a variety of cheeses. My mouth begins to salivate at how fresh the ingredients smell. “These look promising. Should I expect any odd flavor pairings in here?”
Bennett laughs and hands me a plaid paper napkin. “Not this time. I went more traditional for this lunch.”
“Interesting,” I say, curious what his version of traditional tastes like. I sink my teeth into the sandwich. “Yum. My compliments to the chef.”
Bennett lifts his sandwich in the air. “Great, I’ll let Elvis know!” His laugh is lost in the waves, but seeing his lit-up face is all it takes to make my heart flutter. He prepares the rest of our meal of chips, precut watermelon slices, and bubbly water.
A gust of wind sends my hair flying into my face. Bennett lifts his hand up next to my cheek and pauses. “Do you mind?”
I shake my head. He gently pushes a strand of hair back behind my ear before pulling off his baseball cap and offering it to me.