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2
Day Two
Yesterday was crazy and left me feeling a little awkward. Between dealing with D'Andre’s passive-aggressive ass and that Jackson character, I wanted nothing more than to shut down for the night and start over.
This morning, however, I feel refreshed and ready to start the day. Most of the guests on this ship have probably already started joining in on the festivities. I, on the other hand, took advantage of sleeping late, then partaking in a massage. Both were much-deserved rewards.
According to the itinerary, there’s a lot to do. Right now, I’m heading to the midday party that’s happening on the top deck. When I arrive, people are everywhere, chatting and enjoying themselves. I spot the bar and strut over. The bartender, not my cutie from the other night, hands me a cocktail menu. Everything sounds delicious, making it difficult for me to decide.
“Surprise me!” I say, handing the menu back to him.
He nods, reaching behind him for what looks like white rum, and gets to work on my drink. After about a minute, he hands me a glass with a lime perched on the rim.
“What is it?” I sip from the cocktail straw.
“A Caipirinha,” he answers with one hand resting on the counter.
“Mm.” I raise my brows, nodding my approval. Tilting the glass slightly, I examine the contents. Mostly, I drink whiskey but wanted to switch it up a bit, and I’m glad I did. I take another swig and proceed in search of an empty lounge chair.
“Sabrina Rogers!” someone calls from the crowd of people on my left.
Recognizing the voice, I smile.
“Braden Little!” I say, with just as much excitement as my old friend, when I turn to face him.
Braden opens his arms, and I move in for a hug. He squeezes me tightly, and my grin widens. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him, and it tickles me that he hasn’t changed a bit. Same short build, low-cut fade, and hazel-colored eyes.
“It’s been a long time, girl, look at you,” he says, taking a step back, holding my arms out to examine me.
“Oh, stop.” My face heats as I blush.
“You look good, girl. I’m loving the short hair.”
“Thank you.” I run my hands along the nape of my neck, thinking how glad I am that I got a shape up prior to this trip.
“I want you to meet someone!” He peeks over his shoulder, calling a petite woman of Latin heritage over to us.
“Babe, this is Sabrina Rogers. She and I were in college together.” He wraps his arm around the girl and points to me with the other drink-filled hand.
We exchange pleasant greetings, and Braden continues.
“This is my wife.” He beams.
“Wow, congratulations. It’s so nice to meet you.”
“Likewise, I’m Melissa by the way,” she says with a slight accent.
“Damn. Sorry, babe.”
“He does this often. Like, I keep having to remind him that everyone won’t just automatically know my name.”
I laugh.
“Shush.” Braden playfully tussles her close, planting a kiss on her forehead. “But anyway, Sabrina and I go way back. She used to kick both mine and D'Andre’s ass when we interned at Interpublics.”
“Oh, kicking your ass was easy,” I boast jokingly.
“Ah, whatever. We gave you a fair fight.”
