Page 32 of Glass Spinner

The boat was a sleek, triple-decked catamaran, its white hull gleaming under the city lights. Glass balustrades lined the open-air top deck, and along the perimeter, clusters of guests gathered under fairy-lit awnings.

They made their way onto the main deck, a contemporary lounge space where curved leather booths hugged the interior walls. A polished bar stretched along one side, stocked with gleaming bottles and flanked by bartenders in black shirts shaking martinis and pouring champagne.

A dance floor spilled out from the bar toward glass doors that opened onto a narrow rear deck, where partygoers could leanagainst the rail and watch the city lights. Downstairs, quieter corners offered cushioned nooks and panoramic windows for those wanting a break from the music.

The cruise began with champagne on the upper deck where strings of golden lights reflected across the surface of the water. Kathleen let herself enjoy the view. The skyline glowed in the distance, and the cool air was sharp enough to keep her thoughts grounded.

Ava snapped a photo of the harbour. Then one of herself. Then one of both of them.

“Smile,” she chirped.

Kathleen blinked into the camera, caught off guard.

“I’ll tag you,” Ava said.

“I don’t use social media,” Kathleen murmured.

“Oh, that’s so healthy of you. It’s like, really brave to live off-grid these days.”

Kathleen had never considered herself brave. Merely private, though she didn’t correct her.

Dinner was served below deck, in a softly lit dining hall with wide glass windows offering a view of the harbour. They were seated at a private table, tucked in a quiet corner. The menu was pre-set: a three-course meal with wine pairings. The food was elegant, the service smooth.

The company…less so.

Ava smiled often and laughed too loudly. She told stories about yoga retreats, her influencer friends, her latest trip to Bali. Kathleen listened politely, trying to find something familiar to her in the conversation, but there wasn’t any.

“—then she told me the ayahuasca wasn’t even real,” Ava said, eyes wide. “Like, who does that? If you’re going to puke for enlightenment, it should at least be the real thing.”

Kathleen stared at her.

“Have you ever done anything like that?” Ava asked.

“Psychedelics?”

Ava laughed. “No, alternative stuff.”

“No,” Kathleen said. “I prefer things based on science. I’m a sceptic when it comes to airy fairy things.”

Ava blinked. “Oh.”

Silence stretched between them.

Kathleen sipped her wine. It didn’t help so she tried again. “Do you read?”

Ava brightened. “I do, though I prefer audiobooks. I recently finished one about a werewolf who falls in love with a human.”

Kathleen blinked. “You like fantasy.”

“Yes.” Ava leaned forward. “What about you?”

“I don’t get much time with my research,” Kathleen admitted. “I read non-fiction when I have a moment.”

“Oh,” Ava said again, this time with a touch of uncertainty.

Ava tried to steer the conversation again—music, television, an odd anecdote about a nude beach yoga class in Mykonos. She was friendly and enthusiastic, but the longer the evening went on, the more Kathleen felt like she was on another planet.

And worse, she was expected to join in.