AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Do you always bring high-value electronics to the danger zone? Do you at least unplug your laptop before you bathe with it?”
“I came in here to escape from all the children on this boat, thank you very much, but I see they allowed at least one in the adults-only area.”
His expression shifts, and his lips curl into an actual smile.
“Of course she hates kids,” he tells the air around us.
“I didn’t say that.”
He ignores me, and I don’t know why, but I become immediately defensive.
“I just have work to do, and I was hoping it would be a little calmer here. Not that I need to explain myself to you.”
He twists, adjusting his chair to a near-horizontal position, and looks at me. His yellow T-shirt has dark patches from his dripping hair, but I hardly notice anything beyond the way the shirt pulls against his chest and inches up his arm to reveal a firm, curvy bicep.
Oh, Gwen, you always did find the jerks the most attractive.
“You do realize this is a cruise ship, right? Not an office? There are going to be people, and children, and water, and it won’t be calm, and you’re not supposed to work.”
I feign awe. Clutch-my-pearls hand to the heart and everything. “I didn’t realize I was next to the cruise ship MVP.” He shoots a puzzled look my way, and I clarify. “Most Vehement Pain.”
He rolls his eyes. “Okay, OCD. Obnoxious, Cranky Dictionary.”
I give up on doing anything productive here and decide I’d rather take my chances with the real children beyond the confines of this space and not this quasi-attractive manchild next to me. I shove my laptop into my tote and swing my feet off the chaise.
“Leaving so soon? But we were just getting to know each other,” he taunts, because he knows he’s won. Satisfaction sparkles in his eyes.
Just like I’m blocked on my next book, I can think of no clever comeback for this stranger I’d like to strangle. Instead, I take satisfaction in ramming my tote into his taking-up-space elbow, hearing the sharp breath he draws, thinking there’s a chance he could fall overboard before we have an opportunity to run into each other again on this ship, and storming off.
Sawyer
The concept of vacationing in November—really, traveling in the months between Labor Day and Memorial day to anywhere but a dated convention center in the tri-state area—is foreign to me. Packing swimsuits and flip-flops in the fall? Normally I’d say it’s either an HR issue waiting to happen, or a luxury for the non-public servants. Yet here I sit, swim-suited up, flip-flops tucked under my chair, already a swim and a soak into a November vacation. Already relaxed, in body, at least, if not in mind.
Because that did not go well. At all.
It would be just my luck that a random stranger would be awkwardly flirting with me from across the hot tub, complete with aggressive eyebrow waggling and attempts at physical contact by way of awkward leg-stretching and toe-to-toe caresses. So I felt lucky when another woman—here in The Retreat solo, by the look of it—took the seat next to mine. I figured I could pretend to know her to fend off the lady with the eyebrows. I felt less than lucky when I realized the woman in the chair next to mine was one of the most maddening humans I’ve ever met.
I’m not sure why she brought her laptop to a pool area, I’m not sure why she seems to hate children, and I’m not sure why she seems to hate me. Okay, that last one, maybe I can understand. I did call her a cranky dictionary, after all. Most of all, I’m not sure why I’m so intrigued by—and attracted to?—all of these things.
It’s nice here. Quiet, but in a loud way. The bubbling of the hot tub jets reverberates throughout the room, so this place is like a giant white noise machine. I can enjoy this type of quiet; there’s enough distraction that I’m not stuck with my thoughts. And thank God, because my thoughts have been terrible company for months.
The last time I was truly relaxed was… when I was seven, maybe? When life was simple. Not that it’s exceptionally hard now, it’s just… complicated. Confusing. Stressful. So when I was invited to come along on this trip, I couldn’t turn it down. Ten days? In November? Not having to listen to people toss around buzzwords like pedagogy and rigor while tossing back Long Island Iced Teas? It sounded like a dream. Plus, what’s better than a week away with one of your favorite people? Very few things.
So here I am, ready for a fresh start. Ready to be surrounded by strangers and ready for the chance to be whoever I want to be, which is the me I was before everything went to shit. I’m ready to be unknown and unjudged and untethered to the perception and the mistakes I left back home.
Part of that is confidence. I’ve been working hard to not shy away, to own my presence and feel like I belong. There’s no better place to do that than here, where no one knows me as anything but who I show them that I am.
Granted, I’m maybe not off to the best start. The one person I’ve actually spoken to does not seem to be a fan of my new persona. But, Miss Mystery Workaholic doesn’t get to bring me down. Not today. Not this week.
There’s not a chance in hell I’ll let someone who brings their laptop to the pool—and then complains when it gets three drops on it—affect me on this trip.
Gwendolyn
I people-watch a lot, and the sailaway provides ample opportunity to see throngs of people being who they are.
It’s windy, and there’s one guy whose Yankees hat keeps flying off his head. He chases it down, plops it right back on his mop of red curls, poses for a photo, and runs along the promenade deck to chase it when it inevitably flies off again. Dumbass.
Some people never learn, I think, and that jerk from earlier flashes into my mind. But I did learn, and I’m not repeating my mistakes.
