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“Christos?”
“Yes, I want to walk around the ship,” I say, just to get him to stop talking.
What’s her problem? Even when talking to the other employee, she doesn’t look up from the floor or make eye contact with anyone, and I need her to see me.
The waitress who helped her starts serving us. Frustrated, I see the object of my interest walking away.
I stalled as much as I could during dinner to see if she would come back, but nothing happened. Minutes later, I announced that I was ready to see the ship.
I don’t feel the slightest desire to spend more time with these people, each one despicable in their own way. But I don’t go back on my word, even though I’m dying to leave. I barely listen to Frank’s or the captain’s explanations, even when I occasionally stop to speak to a crew member.
I’m about to call it a night, frustrated as fuck knowing I’ll have to use other means to find out who the blonde is, when I notice a platinum cloud pouring out of a door and onto the deck.
I let the men know they must wait for a moment, and my tone makes it clear that I don’t want intruders.
Like a mad stalker, I set off in pursuit of the person I imagine is the woman who awoke my libido. I believe that opportunities shouldn’t be wasted, and if she’s the one I’m looking for, I won’t let her out of my sight again.
I walk slowly so I don’t startle her.
She seems to be taking a picture of herself—aselfie—with the ship as background.
The temperature has dropped, and I realize she looks cold, still dressed in a waitress uniform. Even so, she doesn’t give up on trying to get a good angle.
She also talks to herself from time to time, shaking her head like she’s arguing, and that’s when I find out there’s avoyeurinside of me.
I’m not used to waiting for things to happen. This time, however, I’m keeping myself in the shadows, just watching her, my hands in the pockets of my suit pants.
At this hour, the deck is deserted because there’s a party going on downstairs. In fact, from Frank’s explanations, she shouldn’t even be here; only authorized employees can use this floor.
As if sensing she’s not alone, she looks back and, startled to see me, drops her phone on the floor. She bends down to pick it up and looks like she’s about to run away.
“No. Stay,” I command.
Zoe
CHAPTER FOUR
Minutes before
I climbthe stairs to the top floor on wobbly legs. I know I shouldn’t do this. Coming to this floor breaks the rules I agreed to when I was hired, but the view from the top floor is the most beautiful. I need to take pictures like I promised Pauline.
I hold the little doll I always carry with me, the one that represents her so that we both appear in the picture. However, it’s hard to find a good angle. I need a selfiestick.
The fact that my heart is beating like a drum doesn’t help, either. If I get caught here, I’ll get fired.
I tilt my arm a little, and it finally seems like we’ll both look good in the photo. I’m ready to hit the button when through the camera I notice someone—a man—behind me.
I turn around to look at him, but due to the shock of being caught, I drop my phone.
Oh my God!
I duck down at lightning speed like a lunatic, ready to run—yeah, I’m not thinking straight. I should apologize for being in an unauthorized space and try to save the rest of the trip.
“No. Stay,” the man orders, and I freeze in place as if I’ve been trained for this.
I’m staring at the floor, ashamed, but there’s something in his tone that makes me want to obey him.
“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he says, and I believe him, although I have no idea who he is.
