A New Life - 9. Chapter 9: Sun and Conversation

Blake was in a pretty good mood as he listened to the boisterous New Zealand couple spin stories about a recent trip to Thailand. Matt had one hand around Vicky’s waist and was trying to cover her mouth with the other as the two of them jostled about on the deck, competing to be heard. They both spoke at once, each eager to add to what the other was saying or to denounce it as not being the whole truth. Pushing and shoving as they argued, their faces were bright red with laughter and exertion.

The four of them, including Haze, were standing around the table on the main deck of the boat, having just finished lunch. Plastic plates, cups and cutlery were strewn across a paper tablecloth along with serviettes and leftover food. The simple buffet had been prepared by Matt while the others were diving, and the crew were now taking a moment to relax before it was time to pack up and head home.

Blake was grateful for the couple’s ruckus, which he found oddly calming despite the roughhousing and Vicky’s occasional piercing shriek. He grinned at their antics, which lightened his mood and helped to distract him from the unbearably attractive guy beside him.

Blake was determined not to obsess over Haze, but as usual he found this difficult to pull off in practice. In his favour, real Haze, the more interesting Haze, had now gone. Blake wasn’t entirely sure when this had happened, but he had noticed him acting differently as soon as they’d approached the boat. The spark had left his eyes and he’d stopped talking as much. He had once more become introverted.

Introverted Haze was much less interesting as a person, but he was every bit as stunning, physically. Having peeled off his wetsuit right down to the waistline, his tanned bare skin and ripped torso were a feast for Blake’s hungry eyes. Unable to help himself, Blake had to take a quick look now and then, glancing over whenever he felt he could do so without being caught.

Fortunately, Blake felt he was coping with all of this rather well. The weather was fantastic, the diving had been superb and he was enjoying lunch with the rowdy New Zealanders. Haze’s alluring physique was causing minor agitation, but on the whole it wasn’t making him too anxious. On the whole, Blake felt pretty good.

All of that changed, however, when Matt and Vicky grew tired of heckling each other and instead decided to grill the ‘new guy’.

“Aren’t you hot in that thing?” Matt asked him, indicating his wetsuit.

Suddenly the centre of attention, Blake felt his cheeks burn and goose bumps spread across his back and shoulders. He had hoped no one would notice his tendency to stay in his wetsuit between dives and even after them. The wetsuit was needed because the water was cold below 5 metres, but on the boat it was far too hot to keep on. The others either stripped off immediately or at least stripped down to the waist like Haze had done, but Blake was far too self-conscious to walk around like that. Instead he liked to wait until he had a chance to duck into the cabin, changing there.

“Yeah, it’s like it’s glued onto him,” Vicky agreed, falling into a back and forth banter with Matt.

“I think maybe it’s stuck!”

“Need some help getting undressed Blake?”

Blake gave a faltering smile as he tried to let the teasing wash over him. He knew they were just fooling around.

“N-no,” he fumbled, humiliation forcing his eyes downwards, towards his feet.

“You don’t exactly look cold.”

“Yeah you’re sweating!”

“Why are you still wearing that thing?”

“Yeah Blake! Tell us!”

“I d-dunno,” was all Blake could manage, his insides now twisting and squirming uncomfortably.

“You know what I think?” Vicky began, drawing out her words in a sing-song voice. She then leaned over and in a loud stage whisper behind her hand said, “I think he’s worried about Hilda eating him alive!”

They all glanced over to the Dutch pair, who were sunning themselves at the other end of the boat. Blake noticed the young daughter suddenly looked away, as if she’d been caught staring. This caused Matt and Vicky to snigger and snort loudly, making only the barest of effort to conceal their laughter.

Blake clenched his jaw, consciously using the tension to try to suppress the churning, sinking feeling inside his chest, or at least stop it from showing outwardly. He knew he wasn’t entirely succeeding though, as he could feel himself begin to shake.

“Busted!” Vicky whispered loudly between giggles.

“I wonder why she’s not looking at me?” Matt demanded with mock indignation.

“Cause maybe she’s into dudes with muscle and not your scrawny arse!” Vicky replied, clutching Blake’s bicep through his wetsuit and squeezing.

This was too much for Blake. He hurt so much the pain in his chest was palpable. He preferred to feel anger instead and so he let anger consumed him. He didn’t care that he shook Vicky off with more force than was necessary. He was angry at her and Matt for making fun of his defective body. He was angry at himself for being born so ugly in the first place and for having tried so hard to fix it for so long, yet always failing. He wanted to scream at them.

Vicky squealed and laughed as she swung herself out of his reach and over to Matt, who caught her around the waist. Neither seemed to take much notice of Blake’s reaction and they continued to joke and carry on.

“You never complained about my arse before,” Matt teased, tickling Vicky’s neck with stubble from his chin, causing her to shriek.

“That’s ‘cause I haven’t had anything to compare it to.”

“Perv!”

“Scrawny arse!”

Blake tried to focus on the intent of their words and not on his anger. He knew deep down they didn’t mean to hurt or upset him. He knew they didn’t understand what they were doing to him. He had to get a grip before he did something embarrassing like scream or launch into a panic attack. But he was losing control now, physically shaking, nostrils flared as he breathed rapidly through his nose. Choking back the bile and anger, he tried to stuff everything back inside of him, to make it go away. But it wasn’t working, he was ready to explode.

“Get a room you two, ya scarin the tourists.”

The deadpan interruption was like a bucket of cold water dumped on Blake’s head, startling but instantly cooling and soothing his anger. He whipped his head around, having forgotten Haze was standing right next to him. They made eye contact briefly, but Blake couldn’t read anything in either his eyes or his expression. Haze seemed detached and disinterested and gave no sign that he had even spoken.

“Jealous Haze?” Matt asked him.

“Me thinks Patty’s been away too long,” Vicky suggested.

Haze didn’t appear to hear what they said, or else he didn’t care. “Go skipper Matt, I wanna get home sometime today.”

“Yes sir!” Matt gave a mock salute.

“Oh come on! Not yet, it’s too good a day to go home yet,” Vicky complained.

“You never want to go home,” Matt pointed out. “Sometimes I think you ARE a fish!” This he said as he poked her fish tattoo just above her breast, causing her to squeal.

The New Zealand couple argued back and forth like that for a while, but Blake wasn’t really listening to what they were saying anymore. He was too busy watching Haze who was now watching him. No longer the centre of attention, Blake felt relief course through his body. He wanted to thank Haze, but he thought this might sound stupid. It was probably just an accident that Haze spoke up when he did. Thanking him would make him sound crazy.

The blue-eyed boy reached down below the table and picked up a white plastic bucket, handing it to him. “Here, get the dishes and stuff.” It wasn’t an order, it was just a statement.

Blake took the bucket, but for a moment he just stood there, confused. He felt flustered from the emotional instability of a moment ago, but was even more perplexed by what Haze was doing. Was he intentionally doing this? Giving him something to do? Could Haze tell he was upset? Why would he care?

Haze started scraping food off the nearest plate and into a plastic garbage bag. He then handed the plate to Blake, who suddenly stirred into action, taking the plate from him and then moving to collect other cups and cutlery left lying about on the table.

The activity seemed to disturb Matt and Vicky too. Matt gave a final kiss goodbye to his girlfriend before he climbed the metal staircase to the second floor of the boat to steer. Vicky picked up a long aluminium pole with a hook on the end and then made her way to the front of the boat to unfasten them from the buoy.

With the others gone, Blake began to relax and feel the last of the anger inside of him subside. This left him feeling empty and unsure of himself though, so he was grateful for the cleaning up to keep him occupied.

The tourists made their way over and offered to help, but Haze stopped them, taking their plates and insisting that they leave the cleaning to the crew. Blake watched him do this, admiring the rippling muscular shapes beneath the dark skin of his back as he waved his arms at them. He then quickly ducked his head again when Haze turned around and returned to emptying food and other rubbish into the bag.

The boat’s engines roared into life and Blake had to grab hold of the table to steady himself as they rocked and turned around. Once again the movement didn’t seem to bother Haze though, who carried on as if he hadn’t noticed the swaying of the deck. He pulled the paper tablecloth together, scrunching it up before stuffing it into the plastic bag along with the last of the rubbish.

When Blake got his balance, he carried the bucket of plastic dishes and eating utensils over to the corner by the cabin entrance, where they could be washed up later. He filled the bucket with water from the plastic water tank and added a bit of detergent as he’d seen Haze do yesterday.

After he’d finished that, he looked around and saw that Haze was watching him. He had a cloth in one hand and bottle of cleaning spray in the other and was wiping down the table. However, he wasn’t really watching what he was doing, he was watching Blake.

Without the anger to sustain him, Blake began to feel tired and anxious. Whispers began inside his head. What was Haze watching him for?

‘He’s worried you’ll go crazy, he knows you’re insane’ the inner critic told him.

Blake dropped his eyes and pretended to fuss with the plates in the soapy bucket, as shame seeped its way into his heart. Haze must think him weak and pathetic. He wanted to fall through the deck and into the ocean beneath.

He tried to ignore Haze, to shut out the very existence of the other boy, but suddenly he felt him nearby, as he leaned over Blake to return the cloth and cleaning spray. For a second he seemed to hesitate and Blake felt certain he was going to say something, but he didn’t. By the time Blake raised his head to look around, Haze had already left and was now talking to the tourists.

With the bucket full of water and the dishes left to soak, Blake felt he had nothing else to do. So, he decided that now was the time to get out of his wetsuit.

He stalked over and into to the cabin, closing the door behind him quickly. He caught a glimpse of the mirror behind the door, but fortunately he had the frame of mind to spin around and press his back against the pane before he could freak out about his reflection.

He took a deep, shuddering breath and then slowly sank down the length of the mirror until he was sitting on the floor. He hooked his arms around his knees and rested his head on his forearms.

He then began to worry.

For the second time in as many days he was flaking out at work. Worse, he was becoming unstable more often and over littler things. It was proving impossible to hide his problems. Perhaps this whole Kulibari Bay thing had been a bad idea?

He had imagined working as a dive master would be better for his mental health, better than staying in Sydney and working at a law firm anyway. But maybe he was mistaken? It wasn’t as stressful as being a lawyer, but there seemed to be a minefield of potential triggers for his emotional problems. At least working in a law firm he could hide his body under a suit and loose fitting shirt. Here, he had to walk around half-undressed for most of the day. At the law firm he was mostly surrounded by aging, white-haired, overweight men. Here, he was surrounded by younger, more beautiful people, like Haze. Everything about this place seemed to be geared towards reminding him of how unattractive he was, throwing this up in his face constantly. How long could he last like this before something set him off in front of the others?

It was only his second day on the job and yet he had very nearly lost it right in front of Matt and Vicky. Luckily Haze had redirected them just in time. But what if he had exploded at them? Yelled at them like a complete nutcase over nothing? Then there would be three people thinking he was crazy instead of just one, Haze.

He thought about Haze then. Why was Haze watching him? He was probably just worried he was going to go crazy. He was probably disgusted with him, or scared of him. Had he interrupted the New Zealand couple on purpose? It was impossible to tell. Haze was completely unreadable in his current state, and for the life of him Blake couldn’t figure out what he was thinking. Why was Haze staring at him though? It didn’t make sense.

Blake kneaded his skull with his hands, trying to get his thoughts straight. Maybe he needed to go back onto the medication. He could take half or quarter doses daily for a month at least on what he had. Then he could ring his psych and get another script delivered. If he took smaller doses more regularly, he wouldn’t have severe hangovers like this morning. Blake recalled that he didn’t like the drugs. They dulled all of his senses and emotions equally, resulting in a strange half-alive kind of existence, not to mention killing his sex drive. But maybe that was for the best? If it helped to stabilise his emotions and moods, maybe he could live with the draw backs? Maybe he wouldn’t be so nervous around Haze if he didn’t have a sex drive?

Realising that he had been obsessing for a while now, Blake came to a decision. He would medicate himself, at a low dose, for work only, at least for a few weeks. Just until he could get into a routine and settle down, he told himself. For now, he just had to get through the rest of the day.

He knew he didn’t have long now before someone would come to look for him, so he quickly moved into the room and unzipped his wetsuit from his neck down to his waist. He then struggled to shrug his shoulders free, rolling the tight fabric inside-out and down his body, down his arms and legs. But there he got stuck, the wetsuit free of his entire upper body right down to his mid-thighs except for both wrists which were caught. He shook his arms violently, but only seemed to get more stuck. He was rushing and getting more and more frantic. He couldn’t think clearly and he didn’t understand what he was doing wrong.

Then he remembered the zips at his wrists and ankles, he hadn’t undone those first and now inside-out he couldn’t get to them. He knew he really should put the whole thing back on again and start from scratch, but there wasn’t time for that. He had to hurry. So instead, he tried to grip one sleave with his teeth and pull it loose, as tears of frustration formed in the corners of his eyes. But it was no use he was stuck, and the trapped feeling was feeding his anxiety, making it worse.

Just then the door suddenly burst open, causing him to jump in fright and to lose balance slightly. To steady himself, his arm instinctively reached out for the nearby bench, but stuck in the wetsuit, it dragged his whole body along. He ended up stumbling over and onto the bench making a crashing sound as he knocked something over.

Someone was standing in the doorway, but silhouetted by the bright sun behind them Blake couldn’t see who it was. He knew the voice, though.

“Sorry mate, I ... are you okay?” It was Haze.

Blake was mortified. He was half-naked except for his briefs and the wetsuit around his legs and wrists. He couldn’t really see Haze from within the darkness of the cabin, so he had no idea what he must be thinking, but he imagined it was something bad.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” Blake stuttered, struggling urgently to get one arm free and knocking more things over behind him.

“Here,” Haze said as he approached. “Let me give ya a hand.”

“N-No!” Blake almost shouted, frantically shaking his arms to get free before Haze came any closer. Burning with shame he looked down at his arms and at his feet, anywhere but at Haze. He couldn’t bear to see the mockery, the distain and ridicule in those deep blue eyes.

Then he realised that his feet were tangled in some rigging, which had come loose from under the bench. He kicked at the ropes to try to get free and somehow this caused some aluminium poles to fall from where they had been resting against the wall. They clanged and clattered loudly as they hit the metal deck while one got hooked under the sleeve of his wetsuit.

The noise, the mess, Haze finding him in this state, everything was too much for Blake. He was starting to panic again.

But then Haze’s soft musical chuckle filled the room. It was the same laugh as before, pleasant and enticing, with nothing cruel or teasing about it. Warily, Blake slowed and then ceased his struggles. He was still too ashamed to raise his head though, so he lifted his eyes to peer through his lashes instead.

There was Haze, but it was the real Haze now, smiling at him. This sent his heart aflutter and muddled the thoughts in his brain, but at least it stopped him from panicking.

“Looks like Vicky was right, you do need help undressin,” Haze laughed, but then he stopped immediately when Blake’s face fell. “Hey, I didn’t mean it like that,” he quickly added.

“Doesn’t matter,” Blake pouted, mood souring again.

“No, I-”

“I’m fine!” This, a little louder than was necessary.

“Hey-”

“I said I’m-”

“Blake!”

There it was again. His name. Spoken by Haze. Like a spell it instantly soothed the hurt and anger he was feeling, calmed the tension and anxiety. It silenced the protest forming on his lips and left him still and quiet, but no less embarrassed.

“Le’me help ya mate,” Haze said more softly after Blake didn’t say anything else.

Blake just nodded silently, gritting his teeth a little as he looked down at his feet and proffered his wrists. He could feel a tugging sensation as Haze tried to unroll his right-hand wrist enough to get at the zip. Blake’s whole face burned with shame as he prayed silently for the humiliation to end.

Finally, he heard the zip unfasten and felt the pressure around his wrist subside. He shook the rest of his hand free and moved to unbind the second wrist, which came loose much more easily. Both hands now free he untangled himself and reached over to collect his shirt and shorts from where he’d left them on the table.

When he turned back, he noticed that Haze was staring wide-eyed at him. Not at his face, but at his chest, eyes then lowering to his stomach and next to his briefs. Blake quickly covered himself with the clothes he was holding and then immediately felt stupid for doing so. He was acting like a chaste school girl. It wasn’t as if Haze wanted to look at his ugly body.

“Sorry,” Haze said, seeming to realise where he was all of a sudden. He backed away looking embarrassed himself and then he turned to leave.

“No!” Blake cried, once again speaking before he thought about what he was saying. He had a habit of doing this around Haze. No? No what? What did he say ‘no’ for? How much more embarrassing could this situation get?

Haze stopped, but didn’t turn around and Blake noticed for the first time that he was fully dressed. His wetsuit had been replaced by shorts and the shop’s polo shirt. His hair was still damp and still tied up at the back with the black rubber band. This revealed the back of his neck, peeking out from behind the collar of his shirt. Blake could see Haze’s skin was paler there, and he wondered for a moment whether this was closer to his natural skin colour.

“Are you ...?” Haze asked uncertainly, breaking him from his reverie.

Realising he was still half-naked, Blake started and then frantically threw on his shirt. He unzipped his ankles, rolled down the last of the wetsuit and kicked it free before pulling his shorts on, over his wet briefs.

“Yeah,” he said finally, flattening out his shirt and trying to look calm. It was no big deal that Haze saw a glimpse of him when he wasn’t wearing a shirt, he tried to tell himself. The other guys on the boat almost never wore tops. He was being ridiculous and Haze would think him crazy. It was no big deal.

“I was just, checkin ya weren’t ...” Haze trailed off for a moment, searching for the right word, “... weren’t nervous.”

He said the last word with emphasis and it occurred to Blake then that Haze didn’t know what else to call it. Blake had only given him the word ‘nervous’. That’s all he knew.

“I’m fine,” Blake quickly blurted out, still highly embarrassed despite being fully clothed now. He felt like he was once again making such a fool of himself in front of Haze.

Haze said nothing in response. He just nodded slowly as if mulling something over.

“I was ... um ... nervous,” Blake eventually admitted, feeling that he needed to say something more, but not wanting to offer any new words to describe his shameful mental health problems. “B-but now I am fine.”

Haze kept nodding for a while and then he eventually stopped. He looked down for a moment and opened his mouth as if to say something, but then he closed it again. He half-turned as if to leave, but then he stopped and turned back.

“Ya know ...” he said, trailing off as if uncomfortable to speak about this. “Ya dun ‘ave to be embarrassed about bein ... er ... so ... you know ... white.”

Blake blinked. “Huh?”

“Ya never gonna get a tan if you stay in ya wetsuit all day ... why dont’cha come up front and catch some rays?”

Blake blinked again, stupidly, before it finally occurred to him what Haze was saying. He must be thinking that Blake kept his body hidden because he was embarrassed about not having a tan. It was such a ludicrous conclusion to come to that Blake might have laughed if the circumstances had been different. Haze really was 100% straight if he couldn’t figure out the more obvious reasons Blake would want to keep his clothes on. Of the many flaws he could catalogue, not having a tan was at the bottom of the list.

Blake was about to make up some excuse when another thought occurred to him.

As ridiculous as Haze’s impression was, it was safely clear of the mark. Maybe it was better that he thought this? Better than figuring out Blake was a nutcase who was mental about anything to do with his appearance. Haze had come up with an explanation that made Blake sound almost normal. All of a sudden, Blake felt he should go with this line of thought, encourage Haze’s conclusion.

“Okay!” he said decisively, having once again spoken before thinking things through. He then cringed half a second later as the full ramifications occurred to him. Most obviously that he would now have to go back to being half-naked in front of Haze. The same horribly humiliating, anxiety inducing calamity he had only just managed to escape.

It was on the tip of his tongue to shout ‘no wait!’, when he looked up and saw that Haze was beaming at him, happily. It made him feel weak at the knees and suddenly he didn’t want to be responsible for making that smile go away. So, he said nothing more.

“Great, come on then.” Haze picked up the wetsuit from the floor and then left the cabin, pausing at the doorway look back at him expectantly.

Blake reluctantly followed, cursing himself mentally for ever having agreed to this. Haze would probably join him sunbaking and that would mean he would be shirtless too. Despite having had a good look at Haze’s body already, Blake knew it would unnerve him to see it again, especially up close. Haze’s tantalising torso drove him crazy.

Haze tossed the wetsuit into a plastic tub outside and then climbed up onto the walkway around the sides of the cabin. Blake followed and the two of them navigated their way around the outer edge of the boat and onto the front deck. Every step was making Blake more and more nervous and upon arriving he knew that he had to get out of this situation, to make up some excuse. He racked his brain for something he could say.

“You take the bench,” Haze said, pointing to the metal bench he had been laying on earlier that day. He then laid out his towel on the deck close by and fell to his knees upon it.

“No, you take the bench,” Blake said, kicking himself for again speaking before he had thought about what he was saying. What was he saying exactly?

Haze arched an eyebrow at him. “Er ... but you dun’ave your towel? Ya can’t lie on the deck?”

“Right,” Blake said, sitting on the bench. Then it occurred to him that maybe he should’ve offered to go look for his towel? Possibly never to come back?

He was about to suggest this, when Haze abruptly lifted up his shirt, sending a shiver down Blake’s spine. He quickly averted his eyes and tried to think of something else, something unsexy. But everything kept bringing his mind and his eyes back to Haze. His anxiety was building again and he was going to start shaking soon, he could feel it. What was he doing? He couldn’t take his shirt off in front of Haze! How had he got into this situation?

Haze tossed his shirt onto the towel and then reached up behind his head to undo the elastic there. The movement caught Blake’s attention again, drawing his eyes over to Haze’s shoulder muscles as they flexed and moved. Haze’s damp shaggy hair came free and fell over his neck, almost to his back. He then turned his head to look at Blake.

Blake quickly looked the other way, praying Haze hadn’t caught him staring. He then moved his hands to the rim of his shirt, but they hesitated there as his mind screamed: ‘stop!’ Anxiety rising, visibly trembling now. Could he really do this?

He looked back at Haze again, paralysed. He was completely unable to think of anything to do or to say.

Haze narrowed his eyes for a moment, but then a thought seemed to occur to him. He turned away from Blake and lay down on his back, resting on the towel. He then took his discarded shirt and placed it across his eyes and nose, leaving only his lower face exposed.

Safely hidden from Haze’s view, Blake felt comfortable enough to quickly shuck off his shirt and lay down on the bench. He crossed his arms over his eyes, both to block the sun and to hide his face in embarrassment. He squirmed there uncomfortably, trying to slow his breathing and stop himself from getting panicky. Not for the first time his mind demanded to know what on earth made him do this. But at least, he told himself, no one could actually see him.

Blake felt an uncomfortable silence yawn before them, but it was soon broken by his companion.

“Can I ask you sumthin?” Haze asked in a contemplative voice.

“S-sure,” Blake responded, although he really wanted to say ‘hell no’. He hated it when people asked him that question. Why didn’t they just ask the actual question? Why give his obsessive mind the chance to imagine what the ‘something’ might be? What was Haze going to ask him?

‘Are you insane?’

‘Why are you so mental about taking your shirt off?’

‘Why are you always perving on me?’

‘Are you a fag?’

“Did you really see that nubi, or were ya just humourin me?” Haze asked him.

Blake released his breath. He was so relieved at the question that he let out an almost hysterical sounding laugh. “Which one?” he asked, relishing the sense of calm now flowing through him.

“The crassicornis, under that rock?”

Blake couldn’t think what he was talking about. What’s a crassi-thingo? And how many rocks did they look under? He had lost count.

“Mate, I didn’t see half the things you pointed out to me.”

Haze laughed his pleasant, musical chuckle.

“I knew it!”

“Sorry,” said Blake, laughing a bit too.

“Ha, dun worry, most people get sick’a me showin em stuff after a while.”

“I wasn’t sick of it,” Blake said, feeling like he needed to clarify this just in case Haze got the wrong idea. “I love diving and I love finding marine animals, there was just so much to see.”

“The most diverse ecology on earth, the reefs,” Haze pointed out, sounding a little philosophical now. “This one alone’s got 500 different fish, 200 different corals. One’a the most unspoilt on earth. Ya haven’t seen barely anythin yet. I got heaps more to show ya.”

“I’d like that,” Blake said honestly, blushing at how intimate he’d made the offer sound. He really had to think more before he spoke. It’s not as if Haze was asking him on a date.

There was a pause then and he heard Haze move about on the deck. He wasn’t game to uncover his eyes to look though. Instead, he just listened intently.

“You may regret sayin that,” Haze said finally, but it was in a softer, gentler tone of voice. Somehow, it was more serious sounding.

Only for a moment though.

“I ever tell ya about the time I saw a 4m stripy?” Haze asked, voice once again light and full of humour.

“A what?”

“A Tiger.”

“On a dive?”

“Yep.”

“I thought you aren’t allowed to dive with one of those?”

“Try tellin it that.”

“Good point,” Blake laughed. “Aren’t they actually one of the few sharks that’ll go for you?”

“One’a the most dangerous, suppose to be.”

“Where’d you see it?”

Blake settled down and listened as Haze told him all about his encounter with the massive tiger shark. As he let Haze’s voice wash over him it occurred to Blake then that they were actually have a conversation, a proper conversation. One that went for longer than a few stuttered, awkward sentences. There was no panic attack or drunken stranger to conceal, no drama. This wasn’t a perfunctory discussion relating to work or to diving safety. It was a proper chat, purely recreational, pleasant and even comfortable.

Blake found Haze, real Haze, fascinating to listen to. Not just the stories he told, but his voice too, which was so different from the tone he normally used. It had feeling and music and was slightly higher in pitch. Blake was so engrossed, that he didn’t even notice how much calmer he was feeling. During the time they had been talking, he had forgotten all about the fact that he was exposed from the waist up. He was actually relaxed for the first time since he’d hauled his dripped wet body up the metal rungs of the ladder and onto the boat after the last dive.

That was until he suddenly heard Haze’s voice much closer, almost right in his ear.

“Think ya need’ta turn over now.”

Despite the serenity he’d been feeling, Blake jerked in surprise and then quickly sat up, covering his stomach with his arms. He blinked in the bright light, finding it difficult to see after having covered his eyes for so long. For a moment he thought he saw Haze quickly shy away from him, but he couldn’t really be sure. By the time his eyes had adjusted, Haze was laying down on his towel, using his shirt as a pillow. His head was lying on one side, the side facing away from Blake.

Awkwardly, Blake also lay down on his stomach, using his own shirt as a pillow. He thought about facing Haze so he could ogle the young man’s back, but then he worried about what that could do to him and thought better of it. Instead he faced the other way, staring at a spot on the deck.

“Can I ask you another question?” Haze asked him, after an uncomfortable moment’s silence.

“Yeah,” Blake replied, his mind again already anxious at the possibilities.

“Do I make you nervous?”

Blake felt as if he had just dropped over the edge of a particularly steep rollercoaster. He was sick to the pit of his stomach and his hands were cold and sweaty.

“W-what?” he stammered. Had his staring been too obvious? Had Haze figured out he was gay?

“I dun mean ...” Haze said quickly, but then stopped as if to gather his thoughts. “I mean, your um ... nervous thing. What do I do to ... I mean do I ... make it worse sometimes?”

This question was only slightly better than what he had imagined Haze was asking. It still made him feel a bit sick, but at least it didn’t sound like Haze was asking him if he fancied him. Blake was glad not to be facing the other boy, as he doubted he would’ve been able to keep the horror from showing on his face.

“Sometimes you do,” he answered honestly, bitterly regretting the answer as soon as it left his mouth.

“Oh.” Haze sounded disappointed.

“It’s not your fault,” Blake quickly added. “And sometimes ... mostly you make me ... not nervous.” He cursed himself mentally, this wasn’t sounding right at all. In fact, he had no idea what he was saying.

“Oh.” Haze said again.

“It’s not your fault,” Blake insisted once more, after Haze didn’t say anything else.

“But if sometimes I do and sometimes I don’t ... I gotta be doin somethin?”

“No, its ... it’s not you ... it’s me, I am the ... problem,” Blake felt flustered as he struggled to explain. He didn’t want Haze to think he was doing something wrong, but neither did he want to confess to Haze that he was attracted to him.

“Well, what do I do to make ya ... not nervous?” Haze asked, sounding very reasonable.

“I-I dunno, I guess ... distracting me from ... it ... talking to me, laughing and stuff,” Blake knew he was rambling and not making much senses. He was going to add, ‘being real Haze’, but he knew Haze wouldn’t understand what that meant.

“Okay, and what do I do that makes ya nervous then?”

“Nothing.” Blake said this definitely. There was simply no other acceptable answer. He daren’t give Haze any clues about the attraction he felt for him. Haze was being nice to him now, sure, but he would freak if he knew Blake was gay and attracted to him.

“You said sometimes I did but?” Haze pointed out.

“Everything makes me nervous sometimes.” Blake replied stubbornly. He knew he was sounding argumentative and pig-headed, but he refused to budge on this.

Haze didn’t say anything for a moment and Blake prayed this was the end of the matter, but unfortunately that wasn’t the case.

“Blake.”

Blake tensed, why did he have to use his name at a time like this?

“If I dunno what I do wrong, how can I stop it?”

Haze sounded louder than a moment ago, like he had just turned around. Blake could feel the other boy’s eyes on his back and it made him squirm with embarrassment.

“You can’t stop it,” he said sadly.

“But-”

“Haze!” Frustrated now, Blake lifted his head and turned it around so that they were facing. He saw Haze propped up on his elbows, studying him. His beautiful, appraising eyes took only seconds to suck all of the frustration out of Blake, leaving him feeling awkward and embarrassed once more.

“There isn’t anything you do wrong,” he finished, too ashamed to maintain eye contact.

However, when he next looked up, Haze was smirking at him.

“What?” Blake asked defensively, suddenly worried that Haze was about to mock or ridicule him.

“Nuthin.”

Haze was bashfully looking down at his hands, which were playing with the fabric of his towel. One leg was lifted up at the knee and was swinging back and forth idly. “It’s just, ya never remembered my name before,” he finished, almost meekly.

“Huh?” Blake was surprised and confused. He had meticulously memorised every detail he could about the blue-eyed boy. How could Haze think he would forget anything about him, let alone his name? Surely he must have used his name in front of Haze before now?

“You only once called me by name ... and you said ‘Hayden’ ... it pissed me off,” Haze seemed to be smirking at the memory, but he was intensely fidgeting with his towel.

“What’s wrong with ‘Hayden’?”

Haze’s smile vanished and for a moment it looked to Blake like he was about to switch away from being real Haze. However, his sad eyes and downcast expression were far from the neutral mask.

“It’s what ... some other people call me. People who don’t ... who won’t listen to me. I call me Haze.”

“Sorry Haze,” Blake said sincerely. “Haze it is.”

Haze finally looked up at him and smiled, brightening visibly. It was only a small smile, but Blake found its radiance too dazzling to meet for very long.

“How much longer on this side?” he asked, trying to change the subject.

Haze ran his eyes along Blake’s back, making him uncomfortable.

“Another few minutes will do it,” Haze said. “Else you’ll get burnt.”

“I think I feel burnt already.”

“Nah, it’s a bit late, sun ain’t strong enough.”

Haze stretched himself back out and laid down again, his head resting on the side facing away from Blake. It made Blake feel much more comfortable to know that Haze wasn’t staring at his grotesque body anymore. Still what would happen when they’d finished tanning?

Blake decided to manoeuvre is shirt so that he had his thumbs under the rim of each side. As soon as Haze gave the word he would be ready to throw on his shirt, hopefully before Haze had a chance to look at him. Happy with this plan, he began to relax a little.

Then he remembered that he still hadn’t gotten around to telling Haze about how he had met Haze’s mother and what she had said to him. However, he decided not to bring that up right now. The situation was awkward enough without having to have that conversation. He would bring it up later, when he was at least properly dressed.