The boat swayed beneath you, the water stretching endlessly in every direction, an unforgiving sheet of blue with no land in sight. You sat with your arms crossed tightly, leaning back against the splintered side of the hull, glaring across at him.

Rafe looked maddeningly relaxed. He lounged like this was some casual joyride instead of being stranded in the middle of the ocean with no motor, no signal, and no plan. The last cigarette from his pocket dangled between his fingers, smoke curling into the sky. His gaze wandered lazily over the horizon, as if he were waiting for something interesting to appear.

Your irritation finally boiled over. “We wouldn’t even be out here if you had just shut up.”

His lips twitched into something between a smirk and a scoff. He didn’t bother to look at you when he answered. “Don’t be dramatic. Someone’s bound to pass by. We’ll get out of here.”

You shifted forward, narrowing your eyes. “How can you be so sure?”

He just shrugged, exhaling a long stream of smoke, utterly unconcerned. The casualness of it made your blood heat.

“You are, without a doubt, the worst person I know.” The words left your mouth before you could swallow them down.

That got his attention. He finally looked at you, rolling his eyes like your hatred was nothing new, nothing worth his energy. “Tell me about it.”

Silence settled over the boat again, broken only by the gentle slap of waves against the hull and the distant cry of some unseen bird. Hours. You were going to be stuck here for hours. With him.

You pressed your nails into your arms, wishing you could vanish, wishing the sea would just open up and swallow you whole. Maybe even a shark. Anything—anything—would be better than being trapped with Rafe.