Shade slipped off her dress, clad only in her shorts and sleeveless shirt, and dove down into the water below. The momentum from the dive pushed her down to the bottom of the ocean, where she grabbed the silt from the bottom in two gallon jugs, and then kicked her way back to the surface. She surfaced and handed the silt off to her friend waiting on the dock, who dumped it into large plastic tubs. She grabbed two more jugs from the dock and pushed off, kicking her way down to the bottom again, retrieving more silt from the once grass-covered earth, and then kicking her way back up. On her fifth descent, something shiny glinted in the silt she pulled up. She grabbed it, inspecting it carefully, noticing a long chain. A necklace from when the world was dry. She stuffed it into her pocket and kicked off toward the surface. 

After the sun reached the space directly above them in the sky, she pulled herself out of the water and laid herself on the dock to dry off in the sun before putting her dress back on. The process was quickened by the thin atmosphere. She could feel the light burning her skin, and quickly stepped into the shade of a nearby canvas tarp hanging from three poles in the dock. 

Three men walked up the dock to roll away the large basin of silt she and her friend had collected over the morning, rolling it back down the dock to a place where it could be dried in the sun and then sold to local families as gardening dirt. Dirt was hard to come by, and the collecting, drying, and selling of it had become a fruitful commerce in the floating cities of New Washington. It could only be collected from the tallest hills of the area, the area known as the Shenandoah Mountain Range. The mountains were tall enough to be reached by the divers who could hold their breath long enough.

Shade was one of those divers. She had grown up on the water, just like everyone else her age, and her parents, and her parents before her. The last generation of land dwellers had passed away years ago. 

Shade’s friend, Lenali, stretched her arms above her head, grunting as she mentioned to her friend, “I heard a few ships came in late last night. Wanna go check out if anybody interesting showed up?”

Shade nodded. “Yeah, sounds good. I’ve got enough water in my ears to last a lifetime. I would like to get more wax to prevent that, but Jamie’s bees haven’t been weathering the hurricanes very well.”

They plodded along the docks, surrounded by the sound of water slapping up against the old wood, seagulls crying out overhead, nests tucked into the nooks and crannies between the boathouses that sat nestled together along the main boardwalk. The center of the floating town was an hour’s walk from the area they worked together to harvest silt. Lenali pulled her black hair off her neck and fanned herself as they walked. Many people fashioned large-brimmed hats to cover their bodies from the fierce sunlight from reeds that grew in the floating gardens surrounding the town, but Shade and Lenali preferred to drape themselves in light linen. The protective layer around the earth had thinned over the years, and the rays from the sun could cause burns that would make even the darkest skin peel within a few hours of direct exposure. 

As they drew closer to the center of the town, closer to the place where new ships docked to unload goods and travelers, more people started crisscrossing in front of them. Men and women sat under the canvas tarps in front of their boathouses, crushing herbs into powder to trade for fish, seaweed, and the rare grain. Bread was a rare luxury, along with fruit and many types of vegetables. Seaweed had become a staple in the diet, dried and wrapped around fish and sea foods. Livestock had all but been wiped out, and neither Shade nor Lenali had ever seen a goat. So when they happened across the crowd gathered around a group of short four-legged creatures with square black irises and small nubs for horns, they paused to take in the scene. 

“That is one ugly creature. And it’s so…hairy,” Lenalie muttered.

Shade giggled, “I think they’re kinda cute. Their legs are so short.” 

A man wearing a large hat held the goats together with a rope around their necks on the dock, explaining, “I bring these miniature goats from a far off city, a month’s voyage from here. There are rumors that the water is receding, and that land has started to become visible at low-tide in certain areas.”

Lenali snorted, “Right, like land is ever gonna come around in our lifetimes.”

“Yeah…” Shade sighed, “I wish it were true. He’s probably just trying to get people to join his crew or something.”

As if on cue, he called out, “If you would like to join my sailors and I, we are planning another voyage to the far away city in a month’s time…”

The two girls decided to keep moving, having heard the rumors of land sightings before, and remaining unimpressed. They made their way to General’s, a small restaurant that boasted a menu of fish that sometimes had the odd vegetable or potato, if the weather hadn’t rotted out the garden fields. Shade and Lenali supplied the silt for the restaurant’s gardens, and so they were given a free meal. As they sat resting in the dark, cool shade of the large pontoon-turned-restaurant, a group of four sailors sauntered in, involved in heated discussion amongst themselves. Neither girl had seen them docked in town before. 

Lenali frowned, “They’re a little loud, aren’t they?”

“Yes,” Shade agreed, “But look—look at what they have.” 

One of the men had carried in a mahi-mahi, a large fish with enough meat on it to feed a group of ten people. It was half the size of his body. They were celebrating their good fortune, and asking the cook to prepare the fish for them. Lenali laughed, “Well, I guess that’s a good thing to celebrate. It sure beats the little fish we get around the shallows.” 

The girls finished their small plates and sat drinking water simply to enjoy the festivities going on across the room. More sailors had come about to join in the feast, and the cook had brought out vodka, expensive stuff for the area. The sailor’s cheeks were getting rosy, and they had begun to sing the shanties their parents had taught them: 

Oh, hear the waves a-crashin’

And see the sky get dark, 

I’ll die by flying coconut,

Or get eaten by a shark! 

I’ll hoist my sails higher,

Stay steadfast in the storm—

Nothin’ will keep me from

My love who keeps me warm! 

The shanty continued, speaking of the way that the sailor would drift on the ocean even in a shipwreck, fight the lock ness monster, battle a crocodile, and ship himself back home again to make it back to his lover. The sailors stood and began swinging around, arm-in-arm, dancing while they sang. 

All but one seemed to be up and moving around. Shade noticed a pair of dark eyes trained on her from across the room, feeling slightly jarred by their stillness when she met them. She frowned, looking away quickly to Lenali, who sat watching the men with a broad smile on her face.

“It’s not often we get dinner and a show,” Shade mentioned, intentionally trying not to look back toward the direction of the eyes she had just seen, pushing them from her mind. No good ever came from a sailor’s attention. She forced a small laugh, trying to seem unfazed.

“Yeah,” Lenali nodded, “I wish Jamie could see this. She’d probably join in. It’s hilarious. Wasn’t her husband a sailor?”

“Yes…” Shade stopped focusing for a moment, and her gaze darted back to the stranger sitting across the room. Luckily, whoever it was, had gone. She sighed, relieved she hadn’t caught their attention again. She wasn’t a fan of men’s attention.

A smooth voice sidled up next to her, “I’m sorry for my mates—they’re glad to be back with civilization after a month. They also might be trying to show off a little for the pretty girls around here.” 

It was a woman. Or, what Shade assumed was a woman. A slim, muscular body made it difficult to tell what gender the stranger really was. Her voice suggested female, even though it was cool and low. 

“I brought you two some drinks—I hate to have them show off without sharing the wealth.” She continued, setting two small glasses down on their little round table, “May I join you?”

Shade met her eyes, they were dark and still, trained on her like before. 

“Sure, have a seat!” Lenali responded, “I’m Lenali, and this is Shade.” 

“Nice to meet you. My name is Daria, but I go by Dare.” She turned her attention toward Lenali when Shade slid her eyes away and focused on the dancing, singing men behind her. 

Lenali grinned, excited, “Did you come in with the goat man?”

Dare flashed a white smile, “No, thankfully. Those goats make a mess on a boat, I hear. Good milk though.”

“You drink milk?”

“I tried the goat’s milk, it’s pungent. What do you girls do around here?”

“We dive for dirt.” 

“Wow—that takes a lot of skill. How long can you hold your breath?” Dare seemed genuinely impressed.

“Well, I don’t dive as much, but Shade can go for a long time—a few minutes.”

“Really?” Dare turned her attention back to Shade, drawing her back into the conversation, “How long, Shade? What’s your record?”

She didn’t like the feel of her name on the stranger’s lips. It felt too intimate.

“My record is five minutes. I got stuck and it took me that long to cut myself out of a net.” The memory made her shudder slightly. 

“I was there that day, it was really scary. That net had been lost by a fishing boat a while back. It’s crazy how the current can just push things on you like that sometimes.” 

“Yeah,” Dare’s brown-black eyes flicked to Lenali, then back to Shade, who was pulling the wavy brunette hair off her shoulders, “That must have been scary. How long ago was that?” 

Lenali frowned, “Geez, I dunno. A few years. We were, what, fifteen?” 

Shade nodded, “I was fourteen. It was five years ago.” 

“So you guys are nineteen? Old enough to join a sailing ship?” She winked at them, showing she was joking. Lenali laughed, “No, thank you. We get enough of the water here in town.”

Dare took a sip of her drink, “You haven’t tried the drinks—I dare you. It’s so sour.”

Lenali reached for her glass, nudging Shade to do the same. They tapped their glasses together, then tried the drink. Neither had tried the alcohol before, and Shade ended up sputtering and coughing, saying, “Holy moley—why do people like this stuff?! It tastes like burning rotten potatoes!”

Dare laughed, leaning back in her chair. Shade chanced a look at the stranger, noticing the way her short ash-blond hair shuttered as she laughed. 

“Never had it before, then? Well, there’s a first time for everything.” She looked toward Shade, her smiling eyes holding a knowledge she couldn’t understand for a moment before another sailor blasted his way into their small group and grabbed Dare’s shoulders. 

“Come on, Dare!” He slurred into her ear, “Come eat! Leave your pretty friends with me!”

Dare frowned and looked at the two girls, “I must save you from my friend’s company. He’s quite the boar when you get him drunk. I hope to see you again.” She turned toward her friend and knocked him back toward the group of dancing men. She stood among them at their height, a slenderer version only in her waist and shoulders.

Shade watched her go, and Lenali nudged her, “They seem nice.” 

Shade raised her eyebrows knowingly, “Don’t all sailors seem nice to girls they’d like to bed?”

Lenali took another swig of the vodka, slinking her arm around her friend, “A truer truth there never was! Now, while the sun is still high in the sky, I’m going to go sleep.”

Shade joined her friend, leaving the small restaurant to head for their respective homes. Shade lived with her immediate family in a houseboat near the center of town. It was a humble craft that floated well, but sometimes leaked in the heaviest rains. Formerly a large, simple pontoon, her mother and father had built it up to a second floor.

She lived on the second floor, which was nice to have to herself. Sometimes her friends would sleep over for noonday naps, but many days she was alone. Despite the oppressive heat, she appreciated the time alone. Space to have to yourself was so hard to come by it was hard to find a place to truly spend time with your own thoughts. This afternoon, she tried to push the stranger from her thoughts, but it was difficult. The warm breeze from the slats in the windows caressed her to a fitful sleep—she woke with a start to the sound of a crash at her window.

She shot up, grabbing the knife she kept latched around her calf and pointing it toward the noise. Security was whatever power you had at your hands in this world.

Nothing was there. The wind had simply blown over a carving of a bear that her great-grandfather had gifted her when he died. She crawled over to it, petting its head before placing it back on top of the shelf.

“That’s a nice antique.” The voice startled her. She whipped around, seeing Dare kneeling down in her bedding on the ground, where she had been a moment earlier. Shade’s heart dropped down into her stomach, heart thundering in her chest. She reached for her knife again, but found that she couldn’t draw it.

“How’d you get in here?” she demanded.

Dare smiled, “You called my name. Don’t you remember?”

“Oh,” for some reason, this made sense to Shade, and she seemed to remember doing so, “Oh, why did I call you, again?”

Dare dropped her gaze down to her hands, then looked up with only her eyes, giving her a slightly menacing appearance that triggered a nervousness in Shade that she hadn’t felt before. She felt frozen in place. 

“There’s no reason to hide what you want me to do to you.” Dare’s words passed between them like smoke from incense sliding into the air; hot, heavily laden with the heady scent that Shade recognized, but couldn’t place. She forgot to breathe when Dare’s hands were suddenly on her legs, climbing up to her waist—her heart sped, racing like the rain in a hurricane. Dare’s touch released a thousand sensations from her spine to her chest. The image of Dare’s dark eyes was the last thing she saw before she woke with a start.

She sat up, looking around the room she had known her entire life. It was empty. She was alone. Her racing heart was the only evidence that anything had happened—even if it was only in her dream. She sighed, not sure if she was relieved or sad that it was over. 

Outside, she heard the drums of the nightly festival beating in the center of the town. She was late. Pushing the images of Dare from her mind, she raced to wrap her blue sarong around her waist and matching bandeau over her chest. Her dance troupe was giving a presentation tonight to raise awareness for human trafficking. There were a few girls in the group who had escaped slavery, and the group had taken the issue as their motivation for dancing: celebrating freedom of movement. Each dance was preceded by a short talk about how to protect others from trafficking, and to look for signs of trafficking in others. There wasn’t much of a security force in the town, but the people rallied when there was a cause to protect those they loved. 

Shade’s sandals slapped against the wooden dock as she raced through the crowd to make it to the festival fire on time. She rarely slept deep into the evening, and she blamed her dream. Luckily she made it before the dance had begun. The crowd surrounding the stage was larger that night because of the ships that had made port the night before. She could smell the garlic roasting with the fish and potatoes in the giant spit off to the side of the stage. Her dance group was just gathering to go on when she made it backstage. A singing group was just exiting the stage.

“Finally!” Jamie reached over and painted a few small blue dots on Shade’s face in an ornate fashion, “I thought we were going to have to go without you!”

“Sorry—” Shade muttered, out of breath, “I overslept!”

“It was probably that vodka,” Lenali chimed in, her orange outfit standing stark against the dark night over the water behind her. “It gave me some crazy dreams.” 

Shade stiffened, remembering her own unconscious visions. She hoped silently that people couldn’t tell if they had appeared in your dreams, because she was almost certain Dare would be in the crowd that night. She swallowed her hidden embarrassment and steeled herself for the show. The host introduced her group, and they filed onto the stage, taking positions as they awaited the drummers to begin. The moves mixed flipping through the air and belly dancing, depending on the speed of the music. The dance told the story of fish battling against fishermen in the deep sea. Dancers representing the fish wore blue, while the dancers representing the fishermen wore orange. The dance was intense, and all the girls were sweating by the time they finished their drama, the fish having just barely escaped the nets of their counterparts to live another day. The music stopped abruptly, the blue-clad dancers twirling away off stage. 

The crowd clapped and cheered. Among the voices, Shade heard her mother, and her father’s unique whistle of approval he always gave after one of the dance performances. Only at night was the heat tolerable enough to dance—otherwise anybody attempting too much exertion during the day would get heat stroke. These nightly performances were a way to keep everyone looking forward to the end of the day—to get through the toil and the heat and the exhaustion that the sun brought with its light. The dawn wasn’t especially hot, but the midday was insufferable, humid, and dangerous. 

The night continued with a feast of the day’s catch, along with whatever the sailors had brought from their journeys to other floating cities across the waters. Potatoes, stewed tomatoes, roasted zucchini and garlic bulbs, water with mint that children had taken to splashing on their faces because it made them feel “cold”—a sensation that rarely overtook any but the sickest among the group. Shade sat along the dock with her friends, Jamie and Lenali, and stuffed themselves with the potatoes, roasted garlic, and zucchini. They could have fish any day. Social dancing came after the meal, and the band was just getting back on stage to start the music. 

“I can’t believe I didn’t slip and fall when we had to do that one move—” Jamie, in blue, waved her arms as she reenacted the one-foot-jump-twist she and Shade had to perform on stage, feigning a fall, “—I was so scared I was gonna fall on my butt in front of the whole town. They love that dance though.”

Lenali laughed, “Yeah, I mean, we add something new every time, which they like.”

Shade jumped in, “The ribbon twirling at the end as we disappeared off stage was a great touch—it’s like we were our own little whirlpools. I wonder how we could make it even funnier, though? How could we improve it?”

“We’ll think about it and bring our ideas together when we meet to practice tomorrow,” Lenali suggested, standing, “I’m going to dance with the cute sailor I saw at General’s today. I see him looking at me over there.” 

Jamie and Shade’s heads pivoted on their necks to look in the direction that Lenali indicated. Across the main square that was made up of the intersection of layers upon layers of docks strapped together to form one large town center platform, the group of sailors were across the crowd of people forming a circle in the center of the floating square. One tall man with bright red hair was looking in their direction; the same one who had drawn Dare away from the table back at the restaurant. 

Jamie sucked air in through her teeth, “Oh man, that is one nice head of hair.”

Lenali placed her hands on her hips, satisfied with herself, and nodded, “Yes. I make quite good catches if I do say so myself. Shade—are you coming with me? It will be weird if I go over there alone.”

“Take Jamie—I don’t want to dance right now. I just want to rest for a while.” Shade responded, leaning back against a post behind her. She didn’t want to invite the attention of any sailor, nor did she want to face the girl she had dreamed about. The stranger’s familiarity and closeness in the dream unnerved her in the present, the incongruence of her dream and reality was quite jarring, and she didn’t want to invite any confusion into her life. It was hard enough to make a living diving for silt—it required her to be in one place, close to the shallows. Sailors ventured out into unknown waters, far away, for months at a time. She had seen too many friends and family suffer when they didn’t hear back from their loved ones who sailed off and didn’t come home. The pain of survival was enough in her town. She didn’t need another worry.

“Alright, if you say so,” Lenali shrugged, grabbing Jamie’s hand and bouncing toward the sailors on the balls of her feet. Jamie threw a “help me” glance back at Shade as they disappeared through the crowd, and Shade just waved in response. She sat back and watched, listening on the sidelines as the drummers and flutists began to play their fast tunes, and couples and friends took to the dance floor. Dancing was a happy pastime for the townsfolk, and they played and baltered through the night. Lenali had convinced Jamie to dance with a boy from the sailing crew, a rather tall, brown-skinned man with hair that stood out past his head on all sides. Shade liked how it bounced as they danced together—and she enjoyed seeing the bright smiles on her friends’ faces. 

“Why aren’t you dancing, honey?” Her mother snuck up next to her, holding a few potatoes. She was on the clean-up crew. Whatever food was left went to the elderly the next day.

“I just don’t feel like it. I’m a little tired,” she responded, “Do you want help with that?”

“Actually, if you could run to the docks and grab an empty barrel, we were going to use it for the desalination tank. The old barrel just sprung a leak, and fresh water is leaking out. We’ll have to repair it, but we need a new one right now so production isn’t diminished. We need all the sweet water we can get.” 

Shade stood, “Yeah, I can do that. I’ll roll it over to the water house.” 

“Okay, great, thanks!” 

Shade trotted off toward the docks, the music and voices from the festivities fading behind her. The darkness that was the masses of three large ships bobbing up and down in the harbor loomed over her as she headed toward a storage house that held all the barrels. She stopped in the dark when she heard tense voices coming from the alley up ahead. 

A low, grumbly voice spat out, “…don’t think we don’t know what you’re doin’. You keep dockin’ at the same places we dock and cuttin’ our profits in half.” 

“We’re merely following the same trade winds.” The smooth, calm voice pricked Shade’s recognition, “There’s no ill intent on my part.”

The angrier voice seemed to deepen, “You callin’ me crazy?”

“I’m not. As the captain of my ship, it’s my duty to make sure we get to the places we need to go in the timeliest manner. You are the captain of your own ship, and we seem to be doing the same thing at the same time.”

A pause. Shade held her breath, not wanting to be caught listening in on the conversation. She’d had no idea that Dare was a captain.

“Just stay out of my way.” The gruff voice spat. Footsteps grew louder as the man emerged from the alley just ahead of Shade and turned in the opposite direction, going toward one of the docked ships. She heard Dare sigh, but wasn’t prepared for when she appeared suddenly out of the alley—she was light on her feet, even on the creaky wooden docks.

“Oh!” Dare was just as surprised as Shade to see her there, “Hello. What—what brings you here?”

Shade pointed toward the barrels she was heading toward, “A desalination tank problem. We need another barrel.” 

“Oh, don’t let me get in your way.” Dare stepped to the side and gestured for Shade to continue, adding, “Would you like any help with that?”

“No thanks, I can do it alone.” She knelt down and yanked at the barrel to tip it onto its side in order to roll it back the way she had come. 

Dare paused, watching her for a moment, then offered gently, “If I’ve offended you somehow, I apologize.”

Shade straightened, turning toward the woman. She looked genuinely contrite; hands shoved into the pockets of her sleeveless navy blue jacket. They studied each other for a moment, waiting for the other to break the silence. 

“Do I seem offended to you?” Shade prompted, turning toward her.

Dare met her gaze steadily, eyes like cutouts of the starry sky behind her, “Not especially, but…you seem distant.”

“And why wouldn’t I be distant with a stranger? It’s the natural way of things.” Shade quipped back, keeping her voice steady, even posing it as an actual question. Suddenly, she remembered the dream she’d had. In overhearing the conversation before, she had completely forgotten, and now, it all came flooding back. Hot blood rushed to her face. She was glad that the moonlight was dim enough to hide her embarrassment.

“I apologize, again. I’ve obviously been overly friendly and stepped on your toes.” Dare put her hands up and began to back away, toward the festivities, “Forgive me.” There was no hint of sarcasm or spite in the words.

Shade watched her as she walked away. The girl hadn’t done anything specific to cause her ire. 

“Wait—” She called out, wondering what in the world she would possibly say next. Dare half-turned and waited for her to continue.

“I could use your help, with this barrel.” She kicked the empty thing with her sandal, “They’re heavier than they look.” 

Dare nodded, “Of course. I think most things are like that. More than what you expect, heavy when they’re empty, welcoming even if they don’t seem like it. Paradoxes abound.” 

“’Paradoxes’? I’m guessing that means two opposites being true at the same time?”

“Close enough.” 

“Well, yes. There are lots of those. Like a male woman.” Shade’s words sat between them as they rolled the barrel side-by-side up toward the festivities. She chanced a sideways glance toward Dare, noticing a smirk on the girl’s face.

“Define me however you like. I’m alright if you want to think of me as a paradox.”

Shade nodded curtly, making Dare chuckle.

“You’re quite serious.” Dare observed as they pulled up toward the water house. “Such a pretty face bearing such a serious manner is a bit of a conundrum.”

Shade frowned, heart dropping into her stomach, “I’m not overly serious. I’m just…careful.” 

“Careful of me? No need. I’m a respectable sailor.” She placed her hand on her heart over her flat chest, feigning a bow. 

“A sailor is a sailor. You’re here and then you’re gone. No use getting friendly.” Shade kicked the barrel upright and set it under the faucet, turning the handle back on to catch the desalinated water. She felt Dare’s dark eyes on her as she set the barrel in place perfectly, fussing with it so she wouldn’t have to look at her. Finally finding nothing else to keep her hands busy, she turned and faced the woman.

“I understand that perspective.” The sailor offered, shoving her hands into her pockets, “I know sailors who are unfaithful to their wives, and others that their wives are unfaithful to them because of the long times apart. It makes love difficult to be apart so often.” 

“Yes, exactly.” Shade responded, growing hot at the sound of the word love coming off of Dare’s lips, and cursing the rudimentary electric lights that lit the water house for revealing her red face. She wiped her clammy hands off on the thighs of her sarong. Dare noticed, and said, “I don’t want to make you feel cornered. Let’s go back to the party.” 

“Alright, yes.” Shade’s head felt a little fuzzy, and she barely noticed how they got back to the group of music and dancing. Dare grabbed her shoulder and pulled her to the left to avoid a couple throwing themselves too far out of the dance circle. Shade’s arm erupted in a spray of tingles that ran up her neck and down her spine, reminding her of the dream she had earlier. 

She whispered to herself, “No—” and stepped away from Dare’s touch, causing the other to apologize once again. 

“I’m, I have to go.” Shade muttered without looking up. She walked away, trying not to run. She couldn’t be interested in a sailor, she wouldn’t let herself. The attention from Dare felt too good to be safe—and she didn’t want to be stuck with a lost partner like Jamie. She thought of the people in her town that she could be interested in, and how she had grown up with them her whole life. They were like her brothers and sisters, people she had so many memories of in childhood that the idea of giving herself bodily to any of them was embarrassing and revolting.

She made it to her family’s houseboat, floating flatly in the dark, far enough away from the music and lights to hear the slapping of water against the sides of the boat. She stood on the deck of the boat in the darkness, breathing in the warm night air in little puffs, calming her body of the touch memory. She sat down, leaning against the wall of the boat, and started trying to think of other people. Her thoughts kept trailing back to Dare’s eyes looking like cutouts of the starry night sky, and her touch on her arm, and her smooth voice. Her mind kept moving into wondering, what would it be like to be closer to her, to hear her voice in her ear, to feel her lips on her own—.

“UGH!” Shade jumped up and kicked the wall she had been sitting against. She didn’t want these feelings. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to feel—it was the pain that came with the good feeling. The loss, and the ache of never having enough of the person with you. She didn’t want to be a sea widow, to share whoever she loved with a thankless and greedy ocean. 

A thought crossed her mind. Maybe, if the pull toward Dare was this strong, the feelings would go away once she saw how the sailor didn’t live up to her expectations. Right now, Dare was all mystery, and new and interesting. But if she could expose herself enough to see that Dare was just another sailor, just another common sea fairer, she could close the door on these feelings and lose interest to go back to her life without feeling a pull toward her.

She had decided. She trotted back toward the town square, the dancing and music was still going with full energy—her friends were dancing in circles, switching between partners on the floor as someone called out moves to do to the music. She saw Dare had joined her sailor friends on the dance floor, having thrown off her sleeveless jacket, and left in a simple white t-shirt that covered only her chest. The muscles in her abdomen glistened in the light as she danced arm in arm with her friends, arms wrapped over two others’ shoulders on either side as they twisted about. Shade’s knees felt weak at the sight, and she couldn’t help but imagine—.

“Nope!” She slapped her forehead, stopping the intimate thought before it could start. No need to lose control of her own head.

She waited until the dance ended to approach the group, waiting for the sailors to walk away and leave the two of them alone before she spoke. Dare smiled when she saw her, waiting expectantly, and Shade found it difficult to not mirror her. Dare’s breathing was rapid, her hands resting on her hips as she caught her breath.

“Do you have a captain’s quarters on your ship?” Shade questioned. Dare blinked, surprised that she knew that she was the captain, “I’ve never seen a sexton. I’d like to see one. Could you show me? And show me how to read star charts?”

Dare’s arms dropped down to her sides as she inspected Shade’s face for a moment, smile fading, bemused. 

“You seem different.” Dare commented, smile returning, “Have you hit the vodka again?”

Shade shook her head, “No—I just, took time to think.” 

Dare shoved her thumbs down into her pants’ pockets. “Yes. Of course, I’ll show you my star charts,” she looked up toward the sky, mentioning, “It’s a clear night, so we’ll probably be able to see the milky way.” 

“Great.” Shade started toward the docks, but Dare gently grabbed  her arm and redirected her, “It’s actually on the other side—we got here late and had to get the further dock.” 

“Oh.” Shade turned and started walking the other direction, Dare at her heels. 

There was one lantern on the ship deck that Dare grabbed to light her way into her quarters on the main deck. Once inside, she lit a set of oil lamps around the room with the lantern flame. The lamps illuminated the depths of the cabin slowly, and as Shade’s eyes adjusted to the dimness, she was able to make out the internal furnishings. A desk sat on the left wall, facing a porthole opening that overlooked the town center. Above the desk sat shelves with belts around the books, to keep them from falling off during rough weather, she assumed. The books were old, frayed, their titles faded to the point of being impossible to read. She looked to the right. A small bureau housed a trunk and a few hanging clothes—some were the color of the Sailors’ Union, the navy blue Dare had been wearing earlier. Shade reached in and felt the fur of an old coat—the texture soft and velvety under her fingers. 

Dare stood back and watched the town girl take in her surroundings. “That coat was my great-great-great grandmother’s. We’ve managed to keep it intact over the years. It came from a bear, back when they still existed.” 

Shade looked in her direction and nodded. The wall opposite the door housed the bunk that held the mattress and light blankets. They were a deep burgundy color, along with the pillows. Dare stood leaning against the high bed frame, arms crossed over her chest as she watched Shade. 

“Your room is nice.” She mentioned, taking a step toward the desk, “Certainly nicer than what I expected. Clean.”

Dare laughed, “What were you expecting, dirty fish guts and soiled sheets? I have a launderer on board. No need to be disgusting. Cleanliness reduces disease and promotes mental well-being.” 

“Did you learn that from one of your books?” 

Dare strode over to the desk, reaching above Shade’s head to unbuckle the belt that held them in place. She pulled a large blue book out, responding, “Actually, yes. It’s in here.” 

She handed the book over to Shade. 

Shade read it out loud, “Life Sciences.” 

Dare smiled, light brows raising in surprise, “You can read?”

“What did you expect? An illiterate laborer?” 

“Well, given that books and paper are rare these days—yes, actually.”

“My mother taught me. Her family never let go of the idea that literacy was the most important part of their civilization before the asteroids hit.” 

Dare stepped back, watching Shade flip through the book. She responded, “I grew up on the ship with my parents and their crew. Sailing was their way of life, and they actually helped start the Union.” 

“That’s quite the legacy.” Shade responded, admiring pictures of chicken and beef being cooked in a skillet over an electric oven. She flipped the pages and landed on a picture that detailed the skeletal structure of the human body.

“Oh wow—” She took the book over to the bed and sat down on the edge, setting the book in her lap to lift her hand and compare it to the hand in the picture. “It’s amazing what our ancestors could do.”

“Yes—it really is.” Dare sat down next to her, close enough to brush shoulders, “I have another book that details how to set bones and heal certain illnesses—unfortunately, most of the medicine they mention isn’t available anymore since we don’t have the land to grow the plants.” 

“I’m sure it’s down there somewhere, trapped in old buildings and bottles. They used to seal everything tight, watertight. If we could get at it, maybe it would help. But it’s so far down, you’d need days just to reach the buildings.” Shade admonished absently, turning the page to look at the next diagram. This one was a woman, her insides highlighted. 

Shade smiled, “I’ve never seen pictures like this. They’re amazing.” 

Next to her, Dare admired the way the lantern lit Shade’s skin a soft glow. She watched as the town girl tucked her long, dark waves behind her ear, leaning toward the book for a closer look at the image. The soft curve of her jawline, eyelashes surrounding green eyes glowing in the light. Her gaze fell down her bare shoulder and the way her collar bone gave way to a small incline at her chest, wrapped tightly in her blue bandeau. Dare closed her eyes and pressed her knuckles to her mouth, turning her face away to prevent herself from looking. She had been surrounded by men for so long that she had forgotten how much her body ached for the presence of another woman. She turned herself toward the book and pointed down at the baby’s head, “Do you know that they used to have women deliver babies lying on their backs?”

Shade looked over at her, “No—I thought it was natural just to squat for everyone.”

“Have you had a baby?”

Shade shuddered, “No way. I’ve never even—I mean, I couldn’t.” 

Dare laughed, “Yeah, I’ve never done anything with a man, so I’m in the same boat.” 

Shade thought about mentioning how she hadn’t done anything with anyone before, but decided to keep her secrets to herself. She turned the page again.  A naked woman filled the page, different parts of the body demarcated scientifically. Shade’s face reddened, but she was saved by the dim light. Dare reached over and closed the book for her, taking it and placing it back on the shelf above the desk. 

“If you’d like we can look more at that later, but right now, while the sky is clear, I can show you the sexton, since you asked to see it.” She pulled a box off the desk, opening it gingerly to reveal a metal object that shimmered in the light, “Come outside with me. I’ll show you how to read it.”

Standing out on the deck, she lined up the sights with the northern star, then motioned for Shade to come over to her. She held the sexton in place and positioned Shade in front of her, eyes lined up with the sights of the small device. 

“Find the north star in the sight. You use that to figure out your latitude and longitude, which tells you where you are in the world. Using the stars, you can go toward different constellations--east, west, north, or south—you’re always able to find your way back home if you memorize the stars. It’s like a map in the sky, if you know how to read it.” 

Dare’s voice in Shade’s ear made the skin on the back of her neck prickle, traveling all the way down her spine. She felt paralyzed. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to happen next, but she found herself leaning back against Dare’s chest. She felt the woman tense as she stabilized herself, touching Shade’s waist from behind to balance. She wanted the touch to be enough, for her body to rest and be at ease now that it knew what it felt like to be close to this sailor—but every touch made her crave more. 

She found herself blurting out, “I-I’m sorry.” She put distance between them, handing the sexton back to Dare quickly and crossing her arms, she couldn’t meet the woman’s eyes, “I came here because…because I was hoping to stop, well, to make myself see that this was a dead end. I don’t want to hurt you by making you think that this is me…um…” Having never been in the situation before, she struggled to even put words to what she was trying to express. She chanced a look up at the sailor. Dare was looking down at the sexton thoughtfully, but she looked up when Shade did. She offered a small smile, “You are too serious. I’ve enjoyed your company, and I hope you’ve enjoyed mine. I know you’ve been fighting yourself all night on account of my being gone in a month, but it’s alright. I’ve appreciated your company, whether it has been offered selfishly or not. You’ve made my night more enjoyable just by being in it.” 

Shade’s knees weakened, and she reached for the side of the ship, steadying herself. 

“How can you say that so calmly? I’ve basically admitted wanting to use you to make myself forget about you.” 

Dare nodded, stifling a smile, “I’m not sure you even know what using me might mean, Shade.” 

That comment made her face burn hot. She didn’t respond.

“Come with me,” Dare took the silence as an opportunity to take Shade’s elbow and lead her back inside her quarters to put away the sexton. She continued, setting Shade down on the side of her bed, and taking a seat next to her, gently and slowly rubbing the space between her shoulder blades, “Take a moment to breathe, and just tell me what it is that you want, without thinking about when I’ll be gone next.” 

“We’ve only just met,” Shade whispered in response, looking over at Dare carefully, “How could I want anything from you?”

Dare smiled, “I guess I have a way with people? I’ll tell you this: when I saw you at General’s earlier, I thought you were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. And the way you smiled with your friend, I just felt like I had to meet you. And when you seemed standoffish, I thought that maybe I was being too forward, or maybe you just didn’t…like my type. I felt crushed, because after I saw you, I felt like I couldn’t remember anyone else I’d ever met before. It’s not unheard of to feel that immediate attraction in the way someone smiles, or looks, or carries herself.”

Shade turned to look at Dare, confessing, “I had a dream about you. When I left and slept in the afternoon.”

Dare laughed, “I hope it wasn’t a nightmare.”

“No, not at all. The opposite, actually. You were in my bed—”

“Oh, I like it so far.”

Shade had to look away when she said that, her insides melting into jelly, “But nothing happened! All you said was that…um…I didn’t need to hide what I wanted you to do to me.”

Dare stared at Shade, heart speeding up for the first time in the conversation, “Oh?”

Shade covered her face with her hands, thoroughly embarrassed, “Yes. Nothing happened, I woke up after that. But I’ve never dreamt of anyone like that before, and I woke up and my heart was racing like I’d been running, and I couldn’t tell if I was sad or relieved that it was over.” 

Dare’s hands itched to reach over and pull the girl closer, but she resisted. Her core craved closeness and heat, the way hunger sometimes gnawed at her on long journeys. She swallowed, trying carefully to respect boundaries. This wasn’t a girl throwing herself at her—it was someone sharing a confusing situation. She had to remember that Shade wasn’t going to be persuaded by carnal affection. This girl was intelligent, honest, straightforward—taking advantage of her honesty and vulnerability in the moment would be wrong.

And yet every part of Dare wanted to strip her of her clothes and make her vulnerable beneath her, to watch her squirm against her grasp, to see what she could do to make her say her name and beg for relief. She wanted to see her in different angles, make her body stretch, and make her feel something she hadn’t felt before. An ache began in her belly that traveled downward. The muscles deep in her abdomen tightened in anticipation. Now, it was her turn to tell herself no. 

Dare’s throat felt dry as she tried to resist, but could not, asking Shade, “What do you want me to do to you?”

She noticed how the girl stiffened and stopped breathing. After the words were out, there was no taking them back. 

“I’m not sure I have words for it.” Shade responded quietly. Dare knew, in many different ways, what it was that Shade could want from her. There was one way to find out. She noticed the girl had started shaking.

“Come here.” She crawled into her bed, then reached for Shade, motioning for her to lie down next to her, “Let me hold you, and you can try to tell me what you’re feeling.”

Shade lay down next to her on the bed, quivering from her core. Dare turned onto her side, propped herself up onto her elbow, and reached for Shade’s hair, tucking it back behind her shoulder. Shade tried to remain confident, but it was a losing battle. Her voice shook as she whispered, “I’m not sure I have the words to explain.”

Dare reached over and took her hand, “Can you show me?”

“I’d be too embarrassed.” 

“If it’s too embarrassing to show me or tell me, then I have an idea of what it is.” Dare concluded. She reached up to her face and touched Shade’s cheek, feeling the softness of her pillowy skin beneath her fingers. Tingles erupted along Shade’s face and neck, causing goosebumps to race down her arms. Dare was close enough to see them, now, and smiled. Witnessing the effect of her touch made her slightly giddy. She trailed her fingers down Shade’s neck, along her collarbone, and slowly down her shoulder. Whatever the girl wanted, she could only make her want it more by biding her time in getting there. Part of the fun for her was making Shade realize what she really wanted, and then giving it to her.

“I want you to know,” She spoke gently as her fingers made a bee-line for Shade’s belly button, “That I want to know you better. Even if your intention was to bore yourself of me tonight, of satiating some curiosity—” she pressed her hand down on the girl’s inner thigh, causing her to gasp slightly, “—I think you’ll find that once you taste being with me, it’s a craving that will never—” she traced her fingers just shy of the space between her legs under her sarong, “—go away. And even if I sail away—” she brushed the backs of her fingers lightly over Shade’s bandeau, feeling the softness of the small mounds of her chest, “—you may find yourself coming with me—” she noticed how Shade’s knees were curling upward out of the corner of her eye, a good sign, and she smiled to herself, “—if I have any say in the matter.”

She began untying the knot at the top of the bandeau with one hand, slowly unraveling the cloth around her chest with help from Shade raising onto her elbows. Dare stretched a leg over her torso and straddled the girl as she undid the shirt, craving to see what lay beneath. Finally, at the last wrap to reveal them, Shade lifted her arms to cover herself. Her hands only tempted Dare further, and she grabbed her by the wrists, gently pushing them back by her head. Two small mounds of flesh revealed themselves, set atop with small pink points that stood slightly erect. Dare reached down and filled her palms, causing a small sound to escape from Shade’s lips. 

Behind her, she felt Shade’s knees draw up a little further against her hips. Every small investment in the body right now would prepare her even more for what was to come, and it was an investment that Dare would make eagerly. She bent down and cradled Shade’s chest in her hand, pressing her hot tongue against the summit, playing with the other breast in her hand. Shade’s back arched slightly, and she let out a shy moan. Dare pressed her mouth down against the other breast, coming up for air only to leave a small bite mark on the top of her chest. Dare sat back, feeling the heat and pulse strengthen between her own legs as she looked down on the girl squirming beneath her. Her waist dove inward around her belly button, then spread out gently toward her legs. Dare undid the knot of her sarong, throwing the ties to the sides as she wiggled the long skirt off of Shade’s legs. Shade instinctively reached down to cover herself with her hands, but Dare grabbed her hands and stopped her, saying, “No, I want to see.”

Shade drew her hands back up by her head, knees drawing back more. A tuft of dark hair covered her between the legs. Dare drew her fingers through the hair, causing Shade to shudder through her whole body. Her thighs were already shaking. Dare slid off from on top of the girl, positioning herself to sit up on her elbow on the left, and reaching down between her legs with the right. She reached into the space between her legs, feeling heat radiating, and slid her middle finger toward the space that led into her body. 

Bang! Bang! Bang! “Cap’n! Cap’n come out and play!” A drunken voice slurred from behind the door. 

The knock at the cabin door startled Shade so badly that she jumped, grabbing the sheets of the bed to cover herself. She stared wide-eyed at Dare. Dare saw the spell she had spent so much time weaving across her skin evaporate from Shade’s eyes and knew the night was over. 

“I’m so sorry.” Dare collected Shade’s clothes, handing them to her remorsefully, “I had no idea my idiot crew was going to come by. Usually, they stay much later at the parties.” 

Shade nodded, whispering, “Can you just get them to leave?”

Dare frowned, “Well, it’s not as easy as it sounds. Here—I’ll go out and distract them. Leave whenever you feel ready, I won’t let them know you were here.” 

“Wait, will I see you again?”

“I’ll find you.” It was a promise. And with that, she disappeared from behind the door, chiding her crew for waking her and annoying her.