Now on Day Two, with The Rules still in place, they lay onthe deck of the ancient rust-spotted ferry as it chugged slowlyfrom Rhodes towards the smaller Dodecanese islands. Their firstnight had been spent in the Old Town, drinking sugary cock-tails from hollowed-out pineapples, unable to stop grinning ateach other with the novelty of it all. The ferry had left Rhodeswhile it was still dark and now at nine a.m. they lay quietlynursing their hangovers, feeling the throb of the engines in theirchurning liquid stomachs, eating oranges, quietly reading, quietlyburning, entirely happy in each other‘s silence.
Dexter cracked first, sighing and placing his book on his chest:Nabokov‘s Lolita, a gift from Emma who was responsible forselecting all the holiday reading, a great breeze-block of books,
a mobile library that took up most of her suitcase.
A moment passed. He sighed again, for effect.
What‘s up with you?‘ said Emma, without looking up fromDostoyevsky‘s The Idiot.
♡