Mitch gazed at the rocky outcrop surrounded by sparkling turquoise water as the boat raced away from Koh Tao's green coast and sandy shores toward their next dive destination: Chumphon Pinnacle. Laughter and light conversation in a handful of different European languages were carried off in the breeze. Their dive group was a slam dunk if he needed to distract himself from Maria. Five single, high-energy party girls who'd zipped wetsuits over tiny bikinis. Two had already taken a liking to Shawn, asking him to help them with many tasks so he'd be close to them.

The woman, whose blonde hair kept flying at Mitch's face, turned toward him.

Her eyes roamed him without shame while she bit her bottom lip. With a few predictable moves, he could sleep with her, probably on this boat if he squandered a dive. The thought used to motivate him to see if he could make near strangers feel things their past partners never did. More times than not, he succeed, partly from the thrill of a chance they'd never risk at home. But he'd take the ego boost and action either way.

Somewhere, he'd screwed up, first with Becca, now Maria, although they'd only ever kissed. He had no desire to hook up with this tourist and risk the same fate.

"You're American too?" she asked nodding toward Shawn.

"You're a real Sherlock Holmes," Mitch muttered.

She laughed and leaned closer. "Have you been to Koh Tao before?"

He nodded. He, Shawn, Dan, and Sunshine had gotten certified together down here during his first year here when having a fling didn't send him into an identity crisis.

"Maybe you can show us a good place to have drinks tonight." She brushed her upper arm against his and smiled.

If she kept pushing, he'd hurt her. "I'm not looking to be a damned tour guide."

The blonde's lip curled, and she looked back at her friends. "Party too hard last night?"

"No, I was stone-cold sober." After snapping at everyone, including Maria and his students after Christmas, he needed to recover, even if his resolve wouldn't last more than a day or two.

"You're straight-edge? A drink might improve your mood."

It hadn't worked on Christmas. It had earned him a pity look from Maria. No, not pity, recognition. Like she finally saw a fraction of how broken and messed up he was.

And she still invited you out.

Because of kindness and nothing else.

"You taking a hint and kindly fucking off would improve my mood," Mitch said strongly enough for the surrounding people to bristle.

The woman shook her head, muttered some unflattering words in French and returned to sit with her friends. Shawn looked over with his face pinched into a frown. 'What the hell?' he mouthed.

Mitch pulled out his phone instead of answering. He'd texted Maria earlier, trying to see what the situation with Tom was, but he couldn't figure it out. Somehow that ginger had weaselled his way into Maria's New Year's plans, and they seemed to get along better than ever. But it was nothing. Tom never gained much ground with women, let alone ones who were already into Mitch. Maria had acted chill about the weird week at work on Friday, so there was still hope.

Hope for what? For you to lead her on only to crush her again?

"Almost there!" the Dutch divemaster called out.

Mitch made sure the zipper on his wet suit was done up and tightened his weight belt. He raised his eyebrow at Shawn, who had one of the tourists nearly sitting on his lap. Once the boat had stopped, Mitch got ready, securing his oxygen to his buoyancy control device and performing his equipment checks.

A couple of middle-aged men did their buddy checks, looking over at Mitch, who was struggling a bit to get his BCD over his shoulders while another girl asked Shawn for assist with her gear.

"Do you need some help?" a man asked in a strong German accent. "Your shoulders are too broad for these little suits."

Mitch chuckled, not minding the compliment. "Must be it."

The man helped Mitch put on the heavy buoyancy vest. "I have ze same problem. It's a hard life for us."

The man certainly did. If Mitch had a chest and arms like that, he would have knocked out the guy who grabbed Maria at the club. A heavy feeling settled in Mitch's heart. Would he ever stop thinking about her?

"I'm Hans, this is my partner Peter."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Mitch, and my diving buddy, if he ever gets over here, is Shawn."

"Quite ze ladies' man," Hans said.

"Usually that's me, but..."

"But someone has caught your eye or your heart."

"There's one woman, I just—she..." What was he doing telling strangers about Maria? How was he so affected that she was the first topic of conversation that came up? He'd even been the one to bring her up.

"I loved to play the field before I met Peter. There's hope for you, my friend."

Mitch swallowed uncomfortably. It had amazing to hold her again after screwing up their friendship. His dreams and thoughts were full of the fun they could have. But she deserved more than he could give her.

Shawn walked over and gave Mitch a narrowed-eyed glare. "Did you have to do that earlier?"

"Did I hurt your chances? There will be other women. There always are."

"I don't give a damn about that. She's a nice person and was being friendly, yet you tore a strip off her. What's gotten into you? You've been a jerk all week. The students were even whispering about it."

Mitch ran a hand through his tangled hair and brought his gaze to his feet. "I don't know."

Shawn lowered his voice. "Have you been drinking? It's not safe to dive if—"

"I've had nothing since Christmas." Maybe asshole was his natural state when he was sober. Although he was sober often enough with Maria.

Case in point, look what you did to her.

The diving staff hollered to hurry. Divers waddled toward the back of the boat to jump into the water. Shawn scrambled to get his gear together, keeping quiet as they completed their safety checks, sprayed soap in their masks and donned their flippers. They jumped into the ocean, one after the other. At least the routine gave Mitch something else to focus on.

They swam after their divemaster down toward the pinnacles where pink anemones branches swayed in the current. Pinky-orange anemone fish darted in and out of the coral, coating themselves in poison that would protect them from predators.

With his aluminum stick, the divemaster pointed out a striped shrimp with big orb-like eyes and long antennas, scurrying around the coral with choppy movements. On some of the flatter coral, if Mitch looked closely, the bumpy, camouflaged scorpionfish would appear, only its actions giving away its presence.

Schools of silver barracuda and yellow-backed fusiliers swam in the open waters near the pinnacles, the sun's rays illuminating them silver one moment and a shadow obscuring their colours the next.

He couldn't help but think back to learning to dive with Sunshine, Daniel, and Shawn. Sunshine's wide eyes took in everything, her frantic motions betraying her excitement and scaring away half the things she longed to see. How would Maria react, and would they ever go diving together? Not if he kept acting like he did.

Mitch followed their dive group a few feet deeper. In between the coral lurked a vibrant yellow juvenile boxfish. It peered at them and hid a few times before darting away. The colour reminded him of Maria's dress and her swaying in the rain on the beach. He should have pulled her closer and kissed again her that night. Maybe it would have purged these thoughts from his system, or he could have hurt her worse.

Or you could have faced your fear of lasting relationships and seen if she would have accepted you.

That was impossible. Not if she ever learned about Lisa. Maria had been upset over Becca, and that was an open relationship from the start. What he'd done to Lisa was unforgivable, especially since she had wanted what Maria did, and he'd promised it to her.

The dive group stayed along the pinnacle as they continued their descent. Mitch let more air out of his BCD as he felt his body rising. Once they reached their target depth, a few giant grouper fish--almost six-foot-long, speckled brutes--sat near the coral. Other fish darted around them, cleaning their scales.

As their group swam to another pinnacle, Mitch spotted a white striped lionfish, which was named for the way its side fins fanned out wide, tossed around by the current. Its dorsal fins stuck up like a series of spikes. If he were alone, he would have stayed to watch it hovering solo, scaring others away, but remaining strong and intriguing.

Their group dove for forty minutes before they surfaced. Much to everyone's dismay, no one had a fluke sighting of a whale shark. The animals were less common this time of year, but the divers still hoped for the next dive.

At the surface, Mitch heard a laugh that reminded him of Maria's. He searched the surrounding area, despite his mind's protests that it was as improbable as the whale shark. He found a couple, the woman smiling and grinning at her bearded companion. They took each other's hand, then attempted a few awkward selfies with an underwater camera.

Mitch swam over and offered to help. They accepted with grins, excitedly comparing notes on all the different fish they saw and thought they'd seen during the dive. The woman smoothed her ponytail then grabbed the camera.

His chest could have served as his weight belt on the way back. Since when had looking at a couple had made him feel so alone? Would his relationship with Maria ever return to its flirty, carefree state? She had been friendly on Friday but hadn't attempted to check on him on the soul-sucking days that followed his high. But that was for the best.

Mitch lay back in the water, letting the liquid block out the sounds of Peter and Hans' banter, of Shawn and the Dutch women's conversation, of the boat motors and laughter. The few clouds moved at a leisurely pace across the cerulean sky. If he squinted hard enough, one looked like a woman dancing. Mitch sighed. Three days and he would see her again.