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Next to the wheelhouse, there’s a room full of life vests and life buoy rings. Counting them took a whole twenty minutes. And I would have started over and counted them again if German hadn’t walked in, looking suspicious and demanding to know what I was doing. He seemed to be under the impression I was plotting an escape, I think, because the grumpy giant lumbered around behind me for a while, making it impossible to hide in any more small, unused spaces.
At the end of a very long hallway one level below my stateroom, I find an empty theater room with very comfortable recliners next to what looks like some sort of meditation room.These rooms were left off my original tour, which must have only hit the highlights, but they’re lovely and comfortable and both unoccupied. They’re also entirely too obvious if my purpose is tonotbe found by the one man who knows about every single room on this enormous boat.
Is there a crow’s nest on this thing? If so, I’d happily climb up there if I didn’t think German would follow and drag me back down.
Eventually, I shake the gloomy agent trailing me and wind up on the far back end of the yacht, the end without the pool and the huge wraparound deck where, based on the splashing and laughter I heard while sneaking around, everyone else is hanging out. I’m sure there are official nautical terms to describe where I am, but I have no idea what they are. I’d look them up if I could, but that would require my phone.
Or the man I’m presently trying so hard to avoid.
There’s a smaller deck back here, but it doesn’t look like it’s used nearly as frequently. It’s closer to the water though and has the retractable diving board Danny mentioned.Aka the plank.
The only downside to the solitude I’ve finally managed to find is that now, I’m alonewith my thoughts. And honestly, I’d like to avoid those as much as I want to avoid Ben.
Why, exactly, am I avoiding the man I kissed last night?
Desperate times call for desperate measures—that’s why. And I ambeyonddesperate to take a minute to figure out how I’m feeling. Without having to face Ben.
Which, fine. Call me a coward.
But it’s more than just the kissing. Last night when he walked me to my door, Ben said he wants this—us—for real. And that triggered some capital F feelings and some capital F fears that I’m not sure how to handle.
Up until this week, faux fighting with Ben whenever I’m on Oakley has only ever been a game. A harmless way to flirt.I’ve never given the idea of dating him anyrealconsideration. Because aside from how fun our verbal sparring is, he has always been everything I’m not interested in. Polished. Monied. Handsome and confident and just arrogant enough.
In short, Ben always shared way too much in common with Justin. The wealth, the preppy dress, the smug charm was all so familiar. The deeply instilled sense of entitlement that comes standard with this kind of upbringing. Entitled to things, entitled to people. Even having a boat—though Justin and his upper-crust, old-money Boston family were into sailing, not yachts.
Had this been a sailboat, I never would have boarded.
These similarities made Ben my personal version of a walking red flag. But something started to shift when I danced with Ben at Eloise and Merritt’s party. I wrote it off as a purely physical thing. I always found Ben attractive. So, dancing with him, cutting loose in that way, letting him touch me in ways that felt safe—it turned out to be a little more dangerous than I thought.
But I could write off simple physical attraction.
What I can’t write off are all the things I’ve learned about who Ben really is. The way he took care of me when I had my migraine. Not leaving my side, snuggling close and rubbing my head, making sure I had water and medicine. Even making sure I could shower—withoutmaking a single move or flirty remark.
Justinneverwould have taken care of me like that. Not if it would have so much as wrinkled one of his perfectly tailored shirts. Demand that his housekeeping staff take care of me? All day long. But he wouldn’t havestayed. Not in a million years. Ten minutes into me groaning—or maybe even when I threw up over the side of the boat—Justin would have been setting up a tee time.
I dangle my legs over the end of the diving board and stare out at the sparkling turquoise sea. A few minutes ago, a pelican nearly collided with my head, but flew on too quickly for me to check if it had a pink band. I’m wondering if we should make this one the yacht mascot. Just after, a pod of dolphins swam right by. Like a scene right out of a movie.
Had it been a Disney movie, they might have stopped and offered a few words of wisdom. Sadly, I’m no wiser, and there is no happy soundtrack to escort me to my happily-ever-after.
If I evenwanta happily-ever-after. I never really have before. But now?
“There you are.”
I turn to see Riley standing on the small deck behind me. “Oh, hey.”
“What are you doing way back here?” She grins. “Tired of Jasmine and Ana complaining about their lack of cell phones and trying to hit on your man?”
No, but now that she mentions it …
“I just needed a minute.” I stand up and walk back to join her. It’s more than a little awkward trying to carry on a conversation while sitting on a diving board, and I find that I actuallydowant to talk to Riley. Even if I’m underdressed in leggings and a t-shirt.
Riley’s wearing an emerald green swimsuit that makes her eyes pop and a gauzy white cover-up. It probably cost a thousand dollars even though it’s clearly supposed to look effortless and easy. I notice again how perfectly smooth her red hair is andalmostask her how she pulls it off.
Justin always wanted me to straighten my naturally wavy hair, and I spent my years in grad school in constant search for the perfect product. I never found one—at least not one good enough to keep Justin from frowning at my perpetuallyuntamed locks. The thought leaves a bad taste in my mouth, and I push it away, ignoring Riley’s perfectly smooth waves.
Ugh. I don’t know when I decided to let Justin on this boat or back in my head, but he absolutely needs to be drop-kicked off the plank.
“A pod of dolphins just swam by,” I say, dropping into one of the deck chairs.
