What's Left of Our Hearts

Icebergs Ahead

-Seven Years Ago-

"All aboard, losers!"

Dom waved his captain's hat at the group that shuffled over the plank connecting the dock to the catamaran. Four guys, five girls, and full access to his father's below-deck bar. The sun was bathing them in all its Mediterranean summer glory, and the water beckoned with unseen adventures.

A champagne bottle popped at the mile mark, and flowed freely the rest of the afternoon.
"This was a great, idea, Dom!" said his friend, George, raising his flute.

"Yes! Thanks for having us aboard," said Katie with a wink. George's barely-legal cousin was quite the looker, practically bursting out of her itsy-bitsy red bikini, but Dom had no interest in her. He'd only organized this little excursion to spend more time with one girl, and her name was not Katie.

Clara sat on the bow, her golden mane streaming behind her.

"Hey, George! Take over," said Dom. George snatched the captain's hat off Dom's head as they exchanged positions at the helm.

"Wanker..." Dom muttered.

"Ah! Correction, that'd be Captain Wanker, now," said George, tilting the hat sideways.

"More like Pirate Wanker," said Dom.

"All I'm missing is a parrot," smirked George.

"Right." Dom rolled his eyes. "If modern pirates wore Armani and had champagne for breakfast." As soon as he said it, he paused. Glanced back at George. "Yeah, actually never mind." That would be exactly the sort of pirate George would be.

He strode to the bow where Clara said and sat down next to her. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" he said, pretending he was looking into the horizon that just happened to be beyond the outline of her profile. She was so beautiful, it sometimes hurt. That is, it hurt not to be able to put his arms around her whenever he felt like it—which was all the bloody time.

She turned her head towards him, resting it on the rail. "It is," she said, lazily gazing at the coastline behind him.

"Beautiful," he said again, unable to take his eyes off her. He inched a bit closer. "You left without saying goodbye the other night."

She looked down and chewed her lip for a moment. "You looked like you got into an argument with your dad," she finally said. "I didn't want to intrude."

Dom snorted bitterly, feeling guilty as hell. Should he have told her? The rational part of him knew that would be the right thing to do, but the selfish part said she'd find out regardless, it didn't have to be from him.

"You don't have to tell me if it's private," she said quickly, blushing.

He looked at her, memorizing the lines of her face. The gentle curve of her neck, cherubic cheeks ruddy from the warm wind, the supple lips that had tasted like wine and berries the other night.

You'll find out sooner or later. And when you do, you will hate us. You will hate me.

"It's not important," he said, smiling in what he hoped was an encouraging way. Clara didn't seem convinced, but she didn't press, either.