Blue: A Love Story on the Bermuda Shores by Daya Daniels

Author:Daya Daniels [Daniels, Daya]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sayad Books
Published: 2017-05-25T18:30:00+00:00

Cassandra

The sound of wind outside that’s picked up and the feeling of the boat rocking more than usual, urges me awake. I blink a few times, taking in the sight of a tiny light illuminating the room softly. I shift again and Nico’s large thigh comes into view that’s propped up in front of him. A book rests on his leg and his hand holds a fountain pen to the pages. He’s shirtless with the sheet draped around his waist and his reading glasses are on. When I meet his eyes, he’s already looking at me.

“I couldn’t sleep.” He says softly, scribbling more words on the page.

I pull the white sheet against my chest and rest on my side. “What are you doing?” I smile.

“Writing.”

“A book?”

“No, not technically just writing.”

“About?”

“Anything and everything.”

“Like a diary?”

Nico laughs and takes off his glasses. “No, not like a diary.” He closes the book and clicks off the light.

“Que horas são?” I ask. “What time is it?”

“It’s three in the morning.”

“Oh.”

He eases down into the bed, lying next to me flat on the bed. It’s quiet while we both stare at each other for a while.

“Have you ever seen Davy Jones lurking around out here?” I ask in a whisper.

Nico laughs and places a kiss on my forehead backing away again. “No, if I did, I’d be dead. Davy Jones Locker means, bottom of the sea.”

I cover my mouth with my hand. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know.” He whispers. “Believe or not, Davy Jones was real.”

My brows knot at his words.

“Yeah.” He says firmly. “He was real. As in a real person.”

I smile and give him a look, pressing him to go on.

“Well, there’s always an inkling of fact in fiction, right?” He wiggles his brows. “There’s no octopus-faced man of course who has his heart stored in a chest, keeping it as a forever memory of his love’s betrayal like in Pirates of the Caribbean.” He whispers with a laugh.

“Who was he then?”

Nico smirks. “There’s lots of stories, Cass. Some believe he’s the ghost of Jonah, you know from the bible story Jonah and the Wale. Others believe Davy Jones was an incompetent sailor or a pub owner who even kidnapped sailors. Davy Jones is the sailor’s devil.” He says jokingly with a shudder.

I rake my fingers through Nico’s hair and give him a long stare under the darkness, that’s now only illuminated a little by the moonlight creeping in through the small porthole above us. The sound of the water splashing against the hull of the boat, cuts through the quiet.

“So, what have you been writing?” I ask again, skimming my hand along his scruffy cheek.

“It’s nothing really.” He breathes out. “It’s just memoirs sort of. It isn’t a diary. Just short excerpts on the days I spend fishing.”

“Oh. Can I read it?”

“No.” He answers flatly. “It’s private.”

I knot my brows and whack him in the shoulder.

Nico laughs. “It’s private.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He breathes out.

“Why don’t you type it?”

He smiles. “Because I like to write.

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