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It's a complete disaster! If he hadn't been so overwhelmed, struggling to find the perfect words to describe his feelings for you, Elliott never would have rushed in to kiss you. And the boat never would have tipped over.
His only saving grace is that Willy didn't see the both of you swimming back to shore, tugging the capsized boat behind you. His damn traitorous heart is beating so fast, he almost feels nauseous. More anxious than he was reading his work to a crowd as he ushers you inside his cabin.
He can't meet your eyes as he produces a towel. Though, his body hasn't gotten the memo to keep its distance, as he finds himself wrapping it around your shoulders before he can stop himself.
"Yoba, you're soaked through," he curses under his breath. A patterned drip, drip, drip lands on his wooden floor. Your clothes are drenched with cool sea water and your boots are full of sand. All his fault, of course.
He goes to pull away, desperate to make amends. "I'll get another towel and-"
You grab his wrists before he can. Hold him in place, his fingers curling back around the towel to keep it from slipping off of you. His pretty emerald eyes widen as he looks down at you. And the worry-free smile on your lips. "You fell into the water, too, remember?" He can only watch as you brush aside the droopy, salt-crusted hair hanging around his face. "Your hair..."
It's going to take a while to wash out all of the salt. On top of his usual routine, washing and conditioning and moisturizing and combing it through. A hassle, to be sure, but he finds he's much more worried about you than his precious auburn hair.
"You're shivering," he redirects, frowning deep enough to form a crease between his brows. "Are you cold?" He pulls the towel tighter around your shoulders as you shake your head.
"No, I just..." You huff a quiet laugh. Your own heart is rapid in the proximity, and after everything that came before. Your hands tremble, not from the cold that nips at your fingertips, but from excitement. Overwhelming, all consuming, pure elation. "I'm so happy."
He blinks, as though coming to his senses, staring at you in bafflement. "Happy? I all but threw you into the water."
You laugh again. You brush his hair back, tucking it behind his ear and cradling his strong jaw. He can feel the cold you claim not to. "Maybe. But you also kissed me, and I- I'm just so happy."
"Really?" It comes out a breathless whisper. A glimmer of hope. Hope that he didn't fully screw this up.
You nod eagerly, emphatically, drawing him down until his forehead touches yours and your noses brush against each other like gentle waves over the sand. Your breath against his lips - Yoba, he's shaking, too.
"Would you... allow me to try again?" Finally, one of his bright smiles breaks through. The worry and the water and the chill slip away, fading into the shadows of the cabin as he allows himself to cradle your face gently in his large hands.
"Yes," you breathe, only a whisper.
Carefully, he presses his lips to yours. It's not like the kiss on the boat; this one is far less anxious and dramatic. It simply is. A kiss like none he's ever read about. Your fingers curl into the salted strands of his hair, holding onto him, ensuring he stays close as your lips part and meet over and over again. It's not the height of romance - his cabin is too dim and musty and there's sand all over the floor; a far cry from a first kiss on a boat in the ocean, to the gentle rocking waves and bird call overhead. Yet, he cannot imagine a better scenario, than you in his arms in the dark of his home, kissing him so sweetly.