by Ann Omasta
"Who can't know what? You're not making any sense. You're going to have to back up a little."
"The magic man in there," I point to the theatre doors, "is the one that got away from me." I inform Syd as I run my hands through my hair and slide down the wall to sit on the floor.
Syd only hesitates for a moment before joining me on the plush primary-colored, geometric-patterned carpet. "Tell me," he says simply.
"Andrew was my high school crush." I reveal.
When I pause, Syd inserts, "He's held up well over the years. That guy is a dreamboat."
Nodding and smiling at him, I continue. "He was always just out of reach, but not in the way you would think." At Syd's curious look, I expand. "He wasn't the stereotypical irresistible athlete, despite his hot body. He was more of an artsy, moody musician type."
"Ahhh, one of those." Syd smiles down at me. "They're always more difficult to land than the dumb jocks."
I nod, acknowledging that Syd is right about that. "I spent all of one song in his arms, dancing on Prom night, and it was Heaven."
"Spill," Syd leans in––all ears.
"He was a Senior, and I was a Junior," I start.
"I already have chill bumps," Syd squeals, showing me his arm as proof.
"It's not a great love story," I tell him before admitting, "Well, maybe a one-sided one."
"Uh oh, I don't like the sound of that, but go on." Syd urges me.
"I had an enormous crush on him, and I did everything in my power to make him notice me. I tried short skirts, blatant flirting, and even parading around on the arm of the quarterback of the football team; but Andrew never seemed to take notice of me."
"He was playing hard to get," Syd guesses.
"Or he just wasn't interested," I say sadly.
"Not possible," Syd tells me kindly.
Smiling at him, I continue with my story. "He was always just out of reach for me, and it drove me absolutely crazy. I had never before––or ever since–– had a man turn down my advances. You being the exception to that, of course." I nudge him gently with my elbow to let him know I'm teasing.
"I'd totally go for you, if I was into ladies," he grins at me.
"Right," I say sarcastically. Not wanting him to feel required to flatter me, I shift back into my story. "Anyway, he didn't seem interested in me at all, which, of course, made me want him even more. I used to finagle my schedule so that I would pass him in the hallways at school. Everywhere I went, I took the long route so I could drive past his house and snoop to see if his light was on or if he had anyone over."
"Stalker alert," Syd teased me.
"No kidding," I admitted. "But it was so much more than that to me. I wanted to be where he was, to listen to him talk or breathe, or to just watch him. It was like I came alive when I was in his presence. It was an overpowering feeling, but the more I tried to deny it, the worse it became."
"It sounds like you were obsessed with him," Syd says carefully.
"I guess I kind of was, but not in a creepy, keep-him-locked-up-in-the-basement kind of way. I wanted him to want to be with me, and it devastated me that he didn't; but I would have never forced him into anything."
"Glad to hear it," Syd gives me a reassuring smile.
I can't believe that I am sharing all of this with Syd, but it is a relief to finally be revealing the truth. My family knew that I had an enormous crush on Andrew, but I never talked about it so openly with anyone. Deciding that I've gone too far to turn back now, I forge on. "Anyway, you can imagine how thrilled I was when there was a huge upset in the voting for Senior Prom King and he beat out the superstar jock that was expected to win."
"Awesome! I love when stuff like that happens. It's just like the movies," Syd gushes.
"It felt like a movie when the head cheerleader / girlfriend to said jock ran off the stage crying and yelling about how this wasn't how things were supposed to work out."
"What a biotch––trying to ruin Andrew, the hot band geek's, big moment." Syd was clearly on the right side.
"I'm glad she did that, though," I admit, "because the principal was so befuddled by her abrupt departure that he announced that the Junior Prom Queen would be doing the spotlight dance with the Senior Prom King, rather than the runner-up Queen for the Seniors, who it probably rightfully should have been."
"Yay!" Syd actually claps with excitement over my story. "So, you and Andrew got to dance in front of everyone at his Senior Prom?"
I nod in confirmation, thrilled to see that Syd is clearly in my corner. "I was all glammed up for Prom, and he looked incredibly dashing in his black tuxedo. He pulled me into his warm embrace, and I nearly melted on the spot. He was a graceful and firm leader as he guided me around the dance floor. He smelled like fresh pine needles and chocolate." I close my eyes, still able to recall the scent having relived it so many times in my memory. Lost in the story, I continue, "I can still feel the chills that raced down my spine as our fronts lightly brushed against each other as we moved together as one. His hot breath near my ear made every inch of my body tingle with excitement. It was the most perfect few minutes of my life. If I could choose to freeze any moment in time, it would be while I was in his arms. To this day, anytime I hear the song 'In Your Eyes' by Peter Gabriel, I stop whatever I'm doing and am immediately transported back to that glorious moment in time."
"Wow." Syd says simply. He has clearly been swept into my story.
"Yeah, wow," I agree before sharing the rest of the story. "He returned to his abandoned date immediately after our life-altering-for-me dance, and the rest is history. He graduated and moved to Las Vegas to pursue his dream of becoming a famous showman. My mom occasionally runs into his mom at the grocery, so I get regular updates on his accomplishments. I try to be in all the right places the rare times he comes home to visit, but I never seem to be lucky enough to run into him."
"Well, he's here now," Syd reminds me with an excited look on his face.
"Yeah, about that," I start. "Do you think it might be too big of a coincidence that he is conveniently here while the show is filming?"
"Paranoid much?" Syd teases me.
"There's one thing I haven't told you yet," I admit. At his raised eyebrows, I add, "I have a school picture of him that I like to look at pretty much every night. I'm not still obsessed or anything," I quickly add wanting to squash any concerns he may have about my mental stability. "It's just that I like to remind myself that it's possible to feel so wonderful with another human being, and I don't want to ever settle for anything less than that kind of all-consuming passion."
"I guess that makes sense," Syd admits.
"It's really more of a reminder of how love can feel than of Andrew himself." I'm still trying to justify keeping the picture and allowing it to be such an important keepsake so many years later. At Syd's understanding nod, I go on. "The picture is in my suitcase, and someone unpacked all of my things for me. They didn't move the picture, but do you suppose they saw it and told one of the producers?"
Syd's bright blue eyes widen in surprise at me. "So, you think someone found that tiny picture tucked away in your luggage and took it to the producers who then researched who it could be before returning it to your bag, had someone track down the person from the picture and bring him aboard the ship to do a show in the hopes that you might stumble into each other on a cruise with thousands of passengers and rekindle your high school almost-romance?"
"Well, it sounds a little far-fetched when you put it like that." I grin at him until we both start laughing at my paranoia.
Chapter 21
It isn't long until people start filing out of the theatre. Syd and I remain in our spot on the floor watching them go. Logically, I know that I should get up and return to my room, but the chance of getting to see Andrew again––even if he just quickly passes by us––is too tempting to miss.
Seeming to understand my desire, Syd sits quietly by my side. A few of the people emerging from the theat
re give us strange looks for sitting on the floor, but most pass by without giving us a second glance. Eventually, the crowd diminishes to just a trickle, but there is still no sign of Andrew.
The door hasn't opened for several minutes, and I am beginning to feeling like someone standing by the microwave waiting for that last kernel of popcorn to pop as I stare at it. Just when I am beginning to wonder if he has exited the theatre via some backstage employee-only area, the door bursts open, startling Syd and me.
"Oh good, you're still here." Andrew beams a smile at me before sending a questioning gaze in Syd's direction.
I nudge Syd gently with my elbow and he quickly gets the hint. "I bet you two have some catching up to do, and I'm beat." He stretches out his arm and gives an overly dramatic fake yawn to prove his point. After getting up, he says, "Great show," to Andrew before turning to me to add, "See you in the morning." He starts walking away before turning back to look directly at me to say, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do...but that doesn't limit you very much!"
We can hear him cackling at his own joke as he saunters down the hallway. Andrew chuckles at him before plopping down on the floor right beside me. "It is you." His head is turned so that his ginormous sapphire eyes are gazing into mine.
My body is acutely aware of each place where our bodies are grazing each other––my shoulder, hip, thigh and the side of my foot are all zinging with electrified energy at his touch––my painful sunburn completely forgotten. Syd and I had been sitting just as close together, but it was nothing like this life-affirming feeling of being next to Andrew again. I struggle to stay completely present in the moment, savoring the feeling because I know that I will want to relive this scene with him over and over again.
It is as if no time has passed. Just seeing him has transported me back to high school and the intense feelings I have always had for him are front and center once more. Something about this man sets my body alive. I can feel my breath quickening, my pulse racing, and my nerve endings smoldering from his close proximity. I know that my body's visceral chemical reaction to him doesn't make any sense. After all, he could be a serial killer for all I know, but my physiological response to him is undeniable and uncontrollable––not that I would want to tame it, even if I could.
Even as many times as I've relived the precious few minutes I spent in his arms, my memories pale in comparison to actually being near him. The rush of his presence is an incomparable, exhilarating high that I have never experienced elsewhere. I drink it in like my parched, sunburnt skin absorbs refreshing aloe vera gel.
Realizing that my silence has dragged into the zone of what should feel awkward, I finally respond to his comment. "It's me," I affirm, smiling at him before adding, "and you."
"I've thought about you so many times over the years," Andrew remarks.
His revelation would have floored me had I not already been sitting on the floor. If he had any idea of the sheer number of times I have thought of him and our brief but marvelous time together, he would probably be somewhat frightened. Deciding it to be in my own best interest to play down my obsession with him, I tell him, "I have fond memories of you too."
There, that was nice, but non-committal. I silently commend myself for playing it somewhat cool when all I really want to do is proclaim my nonsensical intense feelings for this man, whom I barely know.
"Remember my Senior Prom night when we danced together?" he asks me, obviously having no idea how obsessed I was––okay, am––with him. At my nod, he continues, "What was the song they played?"
"It was 'In Your Eyes,' I think." I'm proud of myself for adding on the 'I think.' I certainly don't want to come off like a crazy person who relives that moment in time over and over every time that song comes on––even when I purposely play it on my phone.
"Yeah," Andrew nods, "I love that song."
"Me too," I confirm, deciding it's safe to admit that much to him.
"We should go down to one of the dance clubs to request they play it, so we can dance to it and relive our glory days!"
Andrew seems excited about his idea, but I'm sure he can't possibly feel one thousandth as thrilled as I do at his suggestion––especially that he referred to it as 'our glory days.' I'm sure he wasn't referring to our dance specifically with that saying, but it felt wonderful to hear him say it, nonetheless.
"Let's go!" I let some enthusiasm show in my voice, but not to the degree that I feel it.
Proving that he's still a gentleman, Andrew helps me up off the floor and hooks his elbow with mine. It is as if I am walking on air as he escorts me to one of the ship's nightclubs.
Chapter 22
It takes a bit for my eyes to adjust to the dark room. The pounding music makes the parquet dance floor seem to pulse and the swirling lights from the disco ball make the sequins on several ladies' dresses sparkle.
Under normal circumstances, the swaying motion of the ship when combined with the loud thumping of the music and the flashing lights would instigate a near-instantaneous migraine, but my body is too hyped up over seeing Andrew to have any sort of negative reaction––even to the intense sensory overload of the discotheque.
The good news about all of the lights and noise is that filming in here would be nearly impossible. I'm not quite ready to share my lifelong crush with the world, especially knowing the producers will find some way to make it look seedy.
Andrew holds up his pointer finger at me and goes to make a request of the deejay. After much gesturing and yelling, the disc jockey nods, seeming to understand the message Andrew is trying to relay in the loud club––or perhaps the deejay is simply trying to get him to go away.
Returning, Andrew leads me onto the dance floor where we jump and raise our arms in the air for the next couple of booming fast-tracks. Neither of us are terrific dancers, but we fit right in with most of the others––who seem to have thrown their inhibitions overboard into the international waters.
After the third song ends, the deejay makes an announcement, "Time to slow it down, by special request."
'In Your Eyes' begins playing. A few disappointed twenty-somethings head to the bar for refreshment, but the vast majority of our comrades on the dance floor pair off to slow dance. Several people who had been milling around the bar or sitting at tables waiting for this moment crowd into the dancing area.
There are so many people that Andrew and I are jostled several times. Not allowing the moment to be ruined, Andrew pulls me closer to him and I lean my head on his shoulder. Immediately, I am transported in my mind back to our glorious Prom night when we previously danced together to this song.
Tonight feels the same, only better. Andrew's shoulders are broader, and he's more filled out. It is just as marvelous being engulfed in his embrace as I remembered. Some small portion of my brain feared that I built it up so much in my memory that reality would never be able to live up to my expectations. It is an immense relief to find that he is just as magnetic, charming, and sexy as I remember.
On Prom night, we had each been with other dates, but now we are adults, with nothing to stand in our way should we decide to take things farther. Well, nothing except my makeshift husband. I won't let that sham of a marriage stop me from following my destiny, though. That has to be what this is, right? What else besides destiny would bring the man of my dreams onto the very cruise ship where I am filming a show called 'Cruising for Love?' Just because the producers intended for me to fall for someone else doesn't mean that I can't have found the real thing on my own.
Andrew rubs his palm up and down on my lower back, leaving a tingling trail in the wake of his touch. I feel safe, happy, and fully alive in his arms, and I don't want the song to ever end.
All too soon, the song does end and the deejay puts on a pulsing, loud fast song that makes everyone jump in time to the beat. Andrew releases his hold on me, and I reluctantly let my arms drop from around his neck. There are too many people to distance our bodies from each other, which is j
ust fine by me.
When Andrew feigns fanning himself with one hand to indicate that it is rather warm and points a thumb at the exit door, I nod and accept his outstretched hand, allowing him to lead me out of the club. "Phew," he says when we emerge. "That's the most dancing I've done since..." he seems to be thinking back, "probably Senior Prom," he decides.
I nod. It's been a while since I've been out dancing too, but not quite that long. When he suggests we take a walk outside on the upper decks, I quickly agree. Enjoying the feeling of his hand at the small of my back, I lead the way to the stairs.
Once we have climbed our way to the top of the ship, we find a secluded spot at the railing and gaze up at the inky sky. "I've never seen so many stars," I gush and mean it. It seems like the entire atmosphere is lit up for us with glimmering twinkles. The surprisingly bright moon is shimmering on the black water.
He nods, agreeing with my assessment. "Being on a ship in the open ocean makes me feel at peace. It's a great reminder of how small we are."
"And it's nice to be so far away from the rest of the world," I insert.
"The rest of the world isn't so bad," he teases me.
"Yeah, unless you are the most hated woman in it," I say sadly.
"What? Never." He sounds genuinely taken aback.
Deciding it's time to confess what has happened, I spill the story of my ill-conceived wedding and disaster television debut that occurred over the last couple of days. Has it only been that long? It feels like eons since we left shore.
"You're married??" Andrew drops his arm from around my shoulders, and I miss it immediately. The bubbling chemistry that had undeniably been sizzling between us immediately dissipates on his end at my revelation.
