The night had been chaotic. I was just trying to get through my shift, dodging guests and cleaning up after them. After dealing with an embarrassing amount of broken glass on Deck A, I made my way down the slick hallway to grab some supplies from the lower decks. I wasn't looking for trouble, but trouble had a way of finding me.
And of course, as fate would have it, I crossed paths with him.
Again!
He was standing by the railing, looking out into the dark sea, completely unaware of the storm rolling in. For some reason, I didn't expect to see him out here—of course, he had to be looking all high and mighty, like always, even though it was clear a storm was approaching. His usual arrogance made me roll my eyes, but I was too tired to deal with him.
I walked past him, trying to mind my business and ignore the simmering annoyance I always felt when he was around. But as I passed, the wind picked up, and the ship seemed to pitch slightly. I didn't even have time to brace myself.
Before I knew it, the ship lurched violently, and I lost my footing, my body slipping on the wet floor. I grabbed the railing instinctively, but it was too late.
Mr. St. Patrick's foot caught the same slick spot at the same time. We both went over the edge together, crashing into the freezing water below.
The cold hit me like a punch to the gut. My breath caught in my throat, and I struggled to stay afloat as the waves crashed against me. Panic rose in my chest, making it hard to think straight. I hadn't been prepared for this—not for the ship's railing giving way under my grip, not for the icy water that surrounded me in an instant.
I glanced around, trying to orient myself, but all I could see was darkness and the violent churn of the ocean. The storm had come out of nowhere, and now I was in the middle of it, the ship far above, the light from the deck flickering in the distance.
And then I remembered—I wasn't alone.
Mr. St. Patrick.
I turned my head to search for him, the waves pulling at my body and making it harder to focus. There. His form was barely visible, but I could make out his silhouette. He was already trying to swim, cutting through the water with strong, purposeful strokes. Unlike me, who was flailing just to keep my head above the surface, he moved with confidence.
"Hold on!" he called, his voice cutting through the storm.
I kicked my legs, but it wasn't enough. I couldn't swim well, especially in a storm like this. Every time I thought I was stable, the waves knocked me back, and I gasped for air.
"Don't just float there!" he barked, his voice urgent as he closed the distance between us.
I could feel the panic rising, and for a moment, all I wanted to do was scream, but the water sloshed into my mouth as I struggled to stay afloat.
"Please, help," I managed to choke out between gasps. "I can't—"
Before I could finish, his arm shot out, grabbing me by the waist.
"Focus," he ordered, pulling me toward him. "We need to get to something. There!"
He pointed toward something in the distance, a dark shape bobbing through the waves. A log, maybe, or some debris. Whatever it was, it was our only chance.
I nodded, still too panicked to speak, and with his grip on me, he swam toward it. The waves battered us both, and I could barely keep up with him, my limbs weak and tired from the cold and the struggle.
He dragged me through the water, his movements precise as he held me steady, and I tried my best to follow his lead.
It felt like hours, but finally, we reached the log. I barely managed to cling to it, my fingers slipping before I could secure a grip. Mr. St. Patrick was already half on it, his chest heaving as he pulled me up.
We both lay there, gasping for air, the storm still raging around us. My whole body was shaking, the cold numbing my limbs.
The waves still crashed around us, but the log held steady, its surface smooth and unforgiving beneath my fingertips. I clung to it, my breath ragged as I tried to steady myself, but the cold had already begun to seep deep into my bones. The storm wasn't letting up, the wind howling and the sea churning violently beneath us, yet we were somehow still floating.
I glanced over at him. He was breathing heavily, his hair plastered to his forehead, his face pale in the dim light from the ship. He was clearly exhausted, but there was something about him that still seemed composed.
"You're lucky," he muttered, his voice low but firm. "That storm came out of nowhere."
I didn't have the energy to argue, but I couldn't help but scoff. "Lucky? You've got to be kidding me."
His eyes flicked over to me, sharp and calculating. "You think this is some kind of joke?" he asked, his tone colder than the water. "We could've drowned out there."
I swallowed hard, looking out over the dark expanse of water. His words hit a little too close to home. If he hadn't come after me, I would've been gone by now. The thought made me sick, but at the same time, I couldn't ignore the fact that he saved me.
"What now?" I asked, pushing the thought out of my mind as the cold continued to gnaw at my skin.
His gaze was distant, lost in the dark waters around us. For a moment, I thought he wouldn't answer, but then his voice cut through the storm again, quieter this time.
"We wait."
Wait? That was it? We were just supposed to wait out here, with no land in sight, no sign of help, no nothing?
I wanted to argue, to tell him that waiting was stupid, but what choice did we have? I looked back at the log, trying to find something to distract myself from the growing panic in my chest. But all I saw was the endless ocean, stretching on forever.
"So, what exactly are we waiting for?" I asked, unable to hide the frustration in my voice.
He exhaled sharply, his hands gripping the log tighter as he glanced out at the horizon. "Help. Eventually, someone will come."
"Eventually?" I echoed, disbelief lacing my words. "You really think someone's going to find us out here?"
His eyes flicked back to me, an unreadable expression crossing his face. "If you think anyone's looking for you, you're wrong. But for me? It won't be long before they realize I'm missing." His voice was laced with that same cold arrogance I'd come to expect from him.
I wasn't sure whether to be annoyed or relieved. He was acting like being rescued was a given, that his importance would somehow make everything better. It was irritating how confident he was about it, but I couldn't deny the truth in his words.
"You really think your family's gonna come looking for you?" I shot back, my voice dripping with skepticism. "You're not as important as you think."
He glanced at me, his jaw tightening. "I think you underestimate who I am."
I just stared at him, trying to ignore the bitterness rising in my throat. He was so convinced that someone would come for him. Maybe he was right, but I wasn't about to let him see me get riled up by his smug attitude.
We both fell into silence again, the storm still raging around us, and I couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning. Out here, on this log, with no control over what happened next, I had nothing but time.