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“I mean, obviously he’s very attractive. And he’s funny. And he’s smart, and like, really thoughtful.”
“He sounds terrible, Gwennie.”
A long sigh passes through my lips. “I don’t know how to make this work in the real world.”
Gram resituates herself in her seat. “Who says you have to?”
When I look up, she’s leaning toward me, her eyes bright. “Wasn’t that the whole point? For you and Nancy to get us to date?”
“If you like each other, and you date, great! But if not, that’s okay, too. We thought you’d be a great fit, but at minimum we just wanted you to meet so you’d know that there are good ones out there. For each of you. No one’s expecting you to run off to the chapel on board or anything.” A smile tugs at the corners of her lips. “We just wanted you to meet someone nice and to have a little fun, and based on what I saw yesterday…”
“Ewww, no,” I object, shoving my fingers into my ears. Gram cackles, and I point an accusatory finger at her as I retreat into the room. “That’s gross. Never speak of it again. Please.”
“No promises!” she shouts after me.
Fun. I can do Fun. I don’t do Fun. But I’m going to try to do Fun.
The Fun starts when I greet Sawyer before dinner and pull him into a hug. It continues when his hands run along my bare arms and he entwines his fingers with mine. It’s really Fun to see the way his eyes dance at the sight of me in the strapless, tropical-print jumpsuit I put on. There’s more Fun at dinner, where we share a bottle of wine—though I drink most of it—and we trade stories about college and our travels and ourselves.
We chase Fun to the sports deck where I beat him at a game of mini-golf, and Fun follows us to the bar where he beats me at a game of pool, but not before we have another round of drinks.
I’m sufficiently tipsy, and my cheeks hurt from laughing so much. Gram was right, we can have Fun. And what’s more Fun than dragging Sawyer away from the velvet settee where I sit in his lap and play with his hair and throw my head back laughing at his jokes to go to the ship’s theater so we can see The Couples’ Game Show play out live?
Volunteering to be in the show. That’s more Fun.
Sawyer
Gwen is clearly comfortable on stage, but I like to stay behind the scenes these days. Being the tallest person in the room most of the time draws enough attention; I never needed to seek it out elsewhere. Also, my track record with attention is not great.
I’d like to be able to say, ‘Why I agreed to this, I’ll never know,’ but the startling reality is that I do know, and the answer is seated with her back to mine.
When Finn, our cruise director, asked the audience who thought they’d been married the longest, a few hands went up. The winners were a couple on board to celebrate their 65th anniversary; they’d been together since middle school. Together, they’re Contestant Number One.
Then Finn wanted to know who’d been married the shortest period of time, and he already knew the answer because he’d officiated that couple’s wedding three hours before the game started. Thus was born Contestant Number Two.
Finally, to select Contestant Number Three, Finn wanted a ‘fun-loving couple’ with a story to tell. Gwen’s hand shot into the air. She jumped and waved, trying to catch his attention, while I tried to coax her back into her chair. But the damage was done: by trying to attract Finn’s attention, she caught the eye of three book lovers in the audience who happen to be on a self-proclaimed “Smut-cation” (the name needs work), and they gestured wildly to Gwen and me while yelling to Finn that Gwen was a celebrity and he should totally pick her. Of course Finn was intrigued, and moments later Gwen and I were ushered to the stage wings to be given the full rules and sign the requisite waiver.
Somewhere around dotting the i’s she sobered and pulled my face to hers. “You’re my boyfriend. It’s been two months. We’re very happy. And if there are multiple-choice answers, answer in the order of BAC. I don’t care what the question is or what the choices are—let’s at least make sure we match on something.”
“That’s cheating, Gwen.”
“Eh, I’ve seen worse,” she says, running her fingers through my hair and smoothing a wrinkle from the shoulder of my polo. Her face pinches, and I’m sorry I used the word cheating after what she shared with me on the island yesterday. It clearly still affects her.
We’re tied for the lead after the first round, when I left the stage and Gwen answered three questions about me on her mini whiteboard. There was a multiple-choice question, and luckily ‘B’ was objectively the best answer.
The older couple pulls away in round two, when the opposite person leaves the stage. These people must tell each other everything, and they’ve had plenty of time to, because he knew which celebrity she’d use her hall pass on and which brand of underwear she wears. (The audience had a laugh at his original answer of ‘sexy black ones that vibrate’ before he changed it to 'Hanes.')
Unsurprisingly, he also knew the “shirt or dress color your partner wore on your first date.” When Finn asked the question, my mouth went dry. Whatever answer I gave here could be telling: should I say ‘navy’ for that first night at dinner, ‘silver’ for formal night, ‘what she’s wearing right now,’ because tonight has felt incredibly date-ish. I gambled and wrote down ‘she wasn’t wearing a shirt or dress.’ The fans ate it up when Finn read it aloud over my shoulder, and heat rushed to my cheeks.
But Gwen answered the same way, and my whole body went warm, unrelated to the heavy stage lights. When I showed my matching whiteboard, the audience roared with laughter, and Finn turned the mic to Gwen for an explanation. Without an ounce of shame, Gwen flirted with the entire theater, flashing them a sideways smile and batting her eyelashes. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” she asked Finn. The audience ate it up and she grinned, then stretched out her hands and motioned for them to quiet. “For our first date, I wore a black bikini.” She turned her smile to me and it softened into something real.
Luckily, again, ‘A’ was the best answer to the second round’s multiple-choice question, so I didn’t feel too guilty when we both got that right.
Now in round three, we’re trying to reclaim the lead, even though we know we really should let one of the real couples on stage win. We’re back to back; I have her shoe in my left hand and mine in my right. We’re in the middle of nine questions where we are the only answers, and I feel Gwen’s soft curls against my neck when she throws her head back laughing at the question, “Who has more tattoos?”
I guess that Gwen has more surprises waiting for me, and when I hold up her shoe, we’re a match. Finn banters with each couple, and when he asks Gwen about my tattoos she smirks and says, “If he wanted everyone to know about his tattoo, he would’ve put it in a place more people could see it.” The laughter crescendos at the salacious innuendo, and at a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it speed, her eyes dart to my waist.
At the end of round three, we’re tied with the elderly couple. Finn apologizes to the newlyweds, and they’re ushered backstage to a smattering of applause. We’re heading into sudden death as a tie-breaker. We’ll still sit back-to-back, but each person will be given a whiteboard. Finn will ask a question, we’ll have five seconds to record our answer, and then we’ll see if we match. The first couple to produce an incorrect answer will be eliminated.
