by J. L. White
“Getting ready.”
He comes up next to me and leans on the rail, turning his attention to the shoreline.
I go back to the view as well. I should leave. But I don’t.
We stand there in silence for a few moments, the town sliding by in front of us. Without moving my head, I glance down at his hands. They’re clasped loosely together. I want to run my fingers over them.
“How’s your channel going?” I finally ask, unable to bear being so close to him without either kissing him or speaking. Since the first isn’t really an option...
“Pretty good,” he answers.
I nod. “That’s good,” I say awkwardly. I really, really should go, but I like being here with him.
“When did you move to Boise?” he asks.
“About...” Six days after I met you, “...nine months ago.”
I can’t help but look at him when I say it. He’s watching the shoreline, but gets a strange expression on his face. I don’t say that I spent all six of those days fighting the urge to go to his house and beg him to forgive me. I swear, the job offer in Boise was the only thing that saved me.
Of course, at this exact moment I’m not so sure leaving Grayson was salvation, exactly. But when I think back to where I was at that time, and when I think about how much I’ve grown as a person over the last nine months, I still know in my heart the timing for Grayson wasn’t just wrong it was terrible.
I look away to the coast in frustration. Sometimes life just sucks.
“Did you know you were moving when we...” he lets it trail away.
I shake my head. “No.”
There’s a pause, then he says quietly, “I haven’t said anything to Sam about... you know.”
The Night of Grayson. Yes, I know. “I figured that. She’d definitely say something to me about it if she knew.”
My tone must reveal my dread at the idea of her knowing, because he says, “Well, she couldn’t be mad at you for it.”
I look at him. Maybe. Maybe not. He doesn’t know Sam like I do. She’s fiercely loyal to her friends, but if she thinks you’ve betrayed her...
“You haven’t done anything wrong,” he continues. “Especially because you were...” He stops abruptly.
He isn’t finishing his sentence, so I do it for him. “First. I know.” I’m irritated and having a hard time hiding it. The thought of Grayson and Sam together...
“Well, look, I just wanted to tell you that I accept,” he says. I look at him again. “Your apology, I mean. I don’t think I said that yesterday.”
I blink at him, but he’s still just studying the shoreline. “I understand how that night might have been a little... overwhelming.” He glances at me tentatively. “It was pretty intense, I know.”
I nod. Intense. Yeah. That’s one word for it.
“It’s for the best, though. It only proved the Rule is a good thing.”
My skin is starting to crawl again. I’m not sure why. “The ‘not till you’re thirty’ rule?”
“Because otherwise you’re too young and do stupid things, right? I mean...” his eyes are still fixed on the shoreline. “I was being stupid. Love at first sight isn’t real. People who are too young mistake infatuation for love all the time.”
I look at him sharply. Love at first sight? Had he felt that too? Or is he saying he only thought it was love, but it... wasn’t?
“But it’s for the best,” he says firmly, nodding. “It woke me up and reminded me I need to stick to the Rule. No matter what. I can’t end up like my parents. I don’t want that. When I marry, I want it to last, but not out of sheer stubbornness. I want to be like those old couples you see, still holding hands and making each other laugh. I’m willing to wait for that. I just...”
He glances at me, then away again.
“I don’t want to make a mistake,” he says. “You made me even more determined not to break the Rule. So, it was a good thing. That way.”
My heart is pounding with dread. The dinner bell starts ringing and I startle.
“It was for the best,” he says again, shrugging. “Don’t feel guilty.” Still without looking at me, he pats me on the shoulder and walks away.
The bell is still ringing and I follow him in a sort of haze. As we join the crowds slowly flowing toward the dining room, my pace slows and we get separated.
It’s over with Grayson. I’ve been saying it for months. I’ve been saying it all week. And I’m the one who ended it. But I didn’t realize until just this moment that I only believed it in my mind.
Now my heart’s catching up to things.
I killed it forever. I really, really did.
Somewhere inside of me I must have thought I still had a chance, because the weight of the realization that I have no chance is flattening me. I can feel the tears building in me. I think I’m going to cry right here and now.
I hold it in. I can’t cry here. I can’t cry now.
Numbly, I float into the dining room. I check the tags, find mine, and sit down. He’s directly across from me and Sam comes in and sits to his left. Ashley sits to my right. All these people sit down and Isabella’s father stands and welcomes us and the porters start serving and all I can think is this:
It really is over.
I look at Grayson, not quite realizing he’s looking at me too and I should look away. You know, to be proper or whatever the hell. But all I can do is look at him and realize he’s not mine and never will be mine and I don’t know if I can handle that.
Sam leans into him, wearing that carefree smile of hers, and says, “Oh Grayson, I have to tell you the funniest story.”
I look at her, furrowing my brows. I’m trying to remember why Sam gets to be the one to tell him funny stories. How the hell did this happen?
Isn’t Grayson supposed to be mine? But he’s not. And he’s glad about it.
He thinks it’s for the best.
“You okay, Chloe?” Sam asks me. “You’re not looking well.”
“I’m fine,” I answer automatically. “I have a headache.”
I’m still looking at Grayson and he’s looking right back at me. How could he have said that? That night meant everything to me, and he’s just glad it’s over.
“Why don’t you go lie down,” Sam says. “That big State room is on this deck. Why don’t you go to that one?”
I must not look good because everyone’s watching at me with concern. I manage to smile—who knew I was so good at fake smiling when I only want to be real crying—and say, “I’m alright. Thank you, though.”
I don’t want to make a scene and besides, if I leave this table, I really will be crying and now is not the time.
I try to steel myself. I need to get it together. I focus on my plate, noticing what’s in front of me for the first time. Some sort of creamy soup. It’s orange. What the fuck is this?
Tears are still dangerously close to the surface. Everyone’s starting to eat, so I mechanically dip my spoon in my bowl.
Sam says something about how good the soup is. “Isn’t it amazing?” she asks.
She must have asked Grayson—I wouldn’t know because I’m not looking—because he says, “It is.”
That’s all he says, but his voice pierces me to the very core.
I stand abruptly, my chair scraping against the floor. “I’m really not feeling well,” I say to no one in particular. “I think I will go lie down. I’m sorry.”
Chapter 15
There’s only the one State room on this level, the master, and I go straight to it. By the time I’m in the room and heading for the bed, my vision is too blurry to appreciate the view from the wall of windows facing the sea.
I collapse on the bed and curl on my side, helpless to stop the sobs tearing out of me. Nine months of not crying over Grayson is coming back to me with a vengeance. I should’ve just let myself cry over him instead of trying to be strong because then I wouldn’t be falling apart now. Now, at the most inopportune time. As a r
eward for my stubbornness, I not only get to cry nine months of tears in one fell swoop, I get to feel like an idiot for running out of dinner.
As hard as I’ve tried not to be a hopeless, fucked up mess, I’ve managed to pull it off anyway.
When Brad ran out on me a year ago, I thought I knew what heartbreak was.
I was wrong.
I’m not sure how long it’s been, but my tears have dried up and I’m resting in that post-cry numbness. Grateful for the reprieve, I’m lying on the bed and staring at the windows. It’s dark outside, so the room is reflected back at me. I hear the lulling of the ship’s engines humming through the floor.
There’s a quiet knock and the door behind me cracks open. I knew it would only be a matter of time before Ashley or Jack or someone came to check on me. Prepared for this eventuality, I’ve already wiped my face and have my headache excuse at the ready. I’m about to sit up and rejoin the world like a normal human, when I see who it is.
Grayson steps in, glances at me lying on the bed, and silently closes the door behind him.
I’m frozen. My heart pounds painfully in my chest. As he quietly makes his way around the corner of the bed, I turn slightly to look at him full on. The man I love.
“If you’ve come to tell me that night meant nothing to you,” I say, “then don’t.”
He stops short, staring at me.
“Seriously, Grayson. I can’t listen to that again, okay? Just...” I look back to the glass. “Go away.”
He hovers there for a moment. I can’t stand him seeing me like this. Instead of going away like I need him to, he comes up and sits on the edge of the bed, right next to me.
I turn to him, ready to be firm.
I don’t remember what I was going to say, though, because I’m struck by the pained expression on his face.
“I lied to you, Chloe,” he says, a quiet kind of agony in his voice.
I furrow my brows at him and open my mouth to speak, but he pushes ahead.
“I’ve been telling myself you weren’t who I thought, because the person I thought you were wouldn’t just walk out like that.”
His words cut me to the quick. I start to sit up, wanting to apologize again, but he rushes on.
“I thought it proved everything. You know? It proved that it was stupid to think I love you. I don’t even know you. It makes no sense. You can’t really fall in love like that. I know that. But still you came along... and you fucked me all up, Chloe... because I did fall in love with you and I’m still in love with you and I know that makes no sense but it’s true.”
My heart is pounding. I don’t think I’m breathing.
His hands cup my face and my hands grip his arms in desperation. The tears start flowing freely again and it feels like some sort of knot has come undone in my heart.
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” he says thickly. “Not for a single day. Please,” he breathes, “tell me it wasn’t just me.”
He looks at me desperately and my heart is breaking wide open with relief and desire and agony. I wish I could turn back time and stay. Just stay. “It wasn’t just you,” I whisper. “It wasn’t.”
He exhales sharply.
“I’m so sorry for leaving you like that, Grayson. It was too soon and you were just so much.”
Still looking in pain, he rubs my tears off first one cheek, then the other. “I came on too strong. I know it. I couldn’t help it. Everything about you had me breaking every rule in the book. The more we talked and the more we were together, the more I thought, ‘I can’t let this one go.’ It was the most impulsive, all-in feeling I’ve ever had. The fact that it was supposed to be your wedding night and it had only been a few months since you ended this really long relationship... those alarm bells were going off in the back of my head and I just ignored them. Because that’s what people do and that’s when they get in trouble. That’s why I had the Rule. But that night I didn’t care and god help me I still don’t. But when I came out and you were gone.” Tears are running down my cheeks. “Just... gone. No note. Not a word.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“I thought it meant nothing to you.”
“It meant everything to me,” I say. “You had me. You had me. I ran because I was so, so scared of what that meant. I’m sorry I wasn’t ready then. I wish I could go back—”
But I can’t finish because he leans in and kisses me hard.
My heart stops and for half a second I’m frozen, inside and out. Everything I thought was true about our situation has been turned completely on its head. All my mind can think now is, He’s mine, he’s mine, he’s mine.
My heart begins to pound and I throw my arms around his neck and kiss him back. Our mouths open to each other and our grips on each other become vice-like. As our tongues search each other frantically, our whimpers float in my ears. Now that I have him in my arms I’m terrified to let go, and he seems to feel the same way.
He pulls back slightly, one hand on my face. “I tried to make myself move on,” he says, looking positively tortured. “But I’ve just been going through the motions.” His breath is shaky. “It didn’t help because even before I got here, everything around me was you. All I want...” he says, his voice husky, his hot breath on my lips, “is to be with you. It’s all I’ve wanted since the day I met you.”
I kiss him again. I kiss him with a depth of passion and love I didn’t know it was possible to feel. I want him. I want this man. And he wants me too. As I fall into his kiss and his embrace, it’s all I can think about. All I’m aware of.
Mad with longing, I taste him deeply and clutch him to me. I can’t let go. I can’t do it. I can’t lose him again. He holds me fiercely too, our tongues hungry for each other.
He leans me back and falls on top of me, holding me tight. I wrap myself around him, needing him. My legs tighten around his waist. My hands rub his back and shoulders and go up into his hair. I can’t get enough.
Wait, a voice in the back of my head whispers.
His whole body presses against me. We angle our hips toward one another and his hard shaft digs against me. I feel his desire for me, there and everywhere. I can’t touch him enough or hold him tightly enough. My whole heart and body has caught fire.
Wait.
He kisses my neck hungrily, pulling my shirt off my shoulder and frantically working his way along my bare skin. Panting, I arch my head back, wanting more of him. His hand reaches up my top and squeezes my breast. With his hardness against my crotch, I squeeze my legs tighter, pressing into him.
Wait. Sam.
And then I realize what I’m doing. And where I am. And who else is on this ship with me. And I’m mortified.
I’m so in the grips of wanting him I don’t even pause. I dip my mouth toward his, asking for him, and he returns to me, kissing me eagerly.
But now that I’ve remembered, I can’t unremember. My thoughts catch up with my body and I pull back slightly.
“Wait”, I say weakly, not meaning it like I should.
Then I’m kissing him with even more urgency because I know I have to stop and I don’t want to. God, he’s right here in my arms and I’m in his. I’m nearly dizzy with the relief of holding him again.
But Sam.
She would definitely, definitely not be okay with this.
Then I really and truly am mortified and break away, catching his eyes with mine.
“Oh god,” I say. “Sam.”
He blinks at me. “No, honey, I don’t love Sam. That’s what I was trying to tell you. It’s not like that—”
I shake my head. He doesn’t understand. I don’t even know what to do with what he just said. I already know he doesn’t love Sam. That’s not the point. “I love Sam,” I say.
He pulls back a bit and looks at me.
“Oh god, what am I doing?” I say. “She’s my friend. I can’t—”
We hear the door knob rattle and our eyes fly wide. He scrambles off me as the door
swings open. He’s still leaning over me slightly and I’m still yanking my shirt back onto my shoulder when Jack clears the door, takes one look at us, and halts.
My hands fly to my eyes.
As if I could hide from this.
I’m only like that for a second, but that second feels like a lifetime. My body is throbbing with horror.
“What the fuck?” Jack says softly.
I drop my hands and look at him. His eyes are darting back and forth between us. He doesn’t look shocked. At least, he doesn’t just look shocked. Jack looks pissed.
I turn away and swing my feet over the edge of the bed. I grip the edge of the mattress with both hands.
I glance at Grayson. I can’t begin to guess what he’s thinking. His face is a mask, but his eyes have that hard look that men’s eyes get when they’re facing off with one another. Even though neither one of them is moving, I get the sense that’s exactly what’s happening. I’m not even sure I understand why.
“This doesn’t concern you,” Grayson says.
“I’m not so sure about that,” Jack says in a hard voice.
“Just go,” I say miserably, looking at Grayson, then away to the darkened windows. The horrible scene is reflected back at me. I can see Jack’s face plainly. His body is framed by the open door.
In the window’s reflection, I catch a glimpse of Grayson’s profile as he glances at me, then back at Jack. He doesn’t move. His stance has not relaxed at all.
“Please,” I say. This is just making everything worse. “Just go.”
In the glass, I see Grayson look at me. He keeps looking at me, but I won’t return his gaze. I don’t move. There’s no undoing this.
He exhales sharply then heads for the door. I see Jack take one step to the side, blocking Grayson’s path. Grayson straightens, not intimidated. God, the last thing I need is these two going at each other.
“Jack,” I say.
He looks at me, then catches my eye in the window. He’s never looked at me like that before, with such sternness.
