Full Steam Ahead

by Valerie Chase

  “About Hunter?”

  “Not him. This wasn’t his fault. It’s my fault. I screwed it all up.”

  “Your relationship, you mean.”

  “No, everything.” I lean up and kiss him softly. “No more talking. I want this.” My hands sweep across his arms, his deliciously broad shoulders. God, I really do want this. “Come on, Jace, you weren’t complaining a minute ago.”

  Jace bends down, and then— “Oof!” He’s picked me up in his arms and is carrying me in long strides out of the club. He doesn’t stop until we step inside an elevator and the doors close. By then, my surprise has ebbed enough that I finally find my voice.

  “Hey, put me down!” I try to wriggle free but his arms are like manacles and my head goes dizzy every time I move too much.

  “Shut up, Georgie,” he grunts as the elevator chimes at our floor. He strides down the hall, swipes the key card, and thrusts our door open. Still balancing me in his arms, he fumbles for the light switch before dropping me onto the mattress. And it’s not in a very romantic way at all. I try to sit up, but Jace shakes his head.

  “Go to sleep. I’ll see you later.” He heads for the door.

  “Where are you going?” My throat tightens with humiliation. I threw myself at Jace; why doesn’t he—man-whore extraordinaire—want me?

  “Out. You’ll thank me in the morning.”

  Before I can protest, he switches off the light and is gone. The room is lit only by a dim nightlight on one wall, and I’m alone. Alone except for … I lurch off the bed and grab the towel pig from the dresser, but stumble and drop him. He comes apart, turning into just another white towel. I’ve ruined him. And I’m not sure what has happened with Jace, but somehow I ruined that too. I’ve messed up everything.

  Again.

  I hug the towel as my head pounds and the ceiling spins above me. Drawing my knees to my chest, I curl up in bed. The weight of this day brings tears to my eyes. I only wanted a night away from all of the worries and the pain, but I guess even that was too much to ask for.

  At least there’s one’s here to watch me fall apart, to see my carefully crafted façade break into pieces. It’s safer that way.

  But right now I don’t feel safe at all.

  Chapter 6

  Georgia

  In the morning, my head is a train wreck—and I’m not even talking about my hair, which isn’t pretty either. Huddled in a booth at one end of the ship’s cafeteria, I groan over my coffee. Normally I prefer to sleep off a hangover, but when I woke, mouth desert-dry and temples pounding, to see Jace sleeping three feet away, I hurriedly changed and got out of there as fast as I could. I wonder whether the cruise ship staff will let me nap in one of these booths.

  “Wow, you look as awful as I feel.” Yasmin plops down into the seat across from me. Clad in our sorority t-shirt, leggings, and big sunglasses, she sets a coffee mug and a plate of pastries on the table between us.

  “Gee, thanks,” I croak.

  “Good thing I came prepared for this trip.” Fishing in her bag, she comes up with a bottle of aspirin and slides it across to me.

  “I owe you one.” I grab the bottle like it’s a treasure, and can’t swallow the two pills fast enough. “Remind me to never drink that much again.”

  “We’re on vacation. We’re allowed to get a little drunk.”

  “A little drunk?”

  Yasmin laughs, then winces and rubs her temples. “Fine, we were a lot drunk. But it was totally worth it, because …” She trails off, and through my headache I frown.

  “Because?”

  “Because I got to make out with Austin.” I get the feeling that wasn’t what she’d been about to say, but before I can say anything she picks up a croissant and takes a huge bite. “What time did you crash?” she says through her mouthful.

  My face feels hot. Now that I’m sober, I really wish I’d stayed in my room last night, immersed in zombies instead of drinking my problems away. Or trying.

  “Don’t know. I …” I don’t want to tell her I made out with Jace, but who knows who saw me kiss him on the dance floor? Someone must have. “I kissed Jace,” I admit in a rush.

  “Georgia!” That’s gotten Yasmin’s attention. Taking off her sunglasses, she squints at me in alarm. “Did you—”

  “No, we didn’t hook up.”

  “Really? Thank goodness. Because Jace will hook up with anything female.”

  “Apparently not.” That comes out a little more sour than I’d intended, and Yasmin raises a brow. “Not that I wanted too; I’m only embarrassed. I was wasted, and Jace took me back to the room.” I mumble the next part. “I woke up with all my clothes on, drooling on my pillow. I don’t think I can face him ever again.”

  “Aw, you’ll be okay. Like Jace has any room to be embarrassed. Pete told me that Jace got kicked out of a strip club last semester because he fell asleep after hooking up with one of the girls. In the manager’s office.”

  I’d heard that rumor too. It’s hard to reconcile the guy from the wild tales with the Jace from last night, who admired paintings and refused me when I threw myself at him. I’m annoyed to realize that his rejection stings. Back at school, he’ll hook up with any girl who bats her eyes, but for some reason he wouldn’t cross that line with me. My rational mind knows he did me a favor because I was drunk, but my pride can’t help but be crushed. Was I too sloppy for him? Maybe he kissed me because he pitied me. In any case, it’s clear that whatever minimal standards Jace McLaren has, I did not meet them.

  “Just keep me away from him,” I mutter. I have enough to deal with as it is without twisting myself into a knot about Jace.

  “Will do. Hey, so I’ve been thinking of something lately, and I wanted to talk to you about it.” She winces again, and slurps more coffee. “Later, though. Once my hangover is gone. You want any of these?” she adds, pushing her plate of pastries at me.

  I shake my head. That chocolate croissant looks tempting, but between the hangover and my shame over how I acted last night, I’m even more positive than usual that I couldn’t keep anything down.

  “I had a bagel before you got here,” I say.

  “Oh? What kind?”

  “Blueberry, obviously.” It used to be my favorite.

  Yasmin cocks her head. “I didn’t see any blueberry bagels over there.”

  “Guess I got the last one,” I say, avoiding her gaze. Before she can notice that I don’t have any dirty plates from my imaginary bagel, I add, “So what are we up to today?”

  She groans. “Didn’t you hear about the tournament?”

  “What tournament?”

  “A sorority from Richmond State challenged us to a showdown. Mini-golf at noon. Their president knows Kelsey somehow. I think from the pageant circuit.”

  “I’ll pass.” The idea of spending an afternoon with Kelsey and her pageant bestie sounds like the opposite of fun. If I’m lucky, Jace will vacate our room for most of the day, and I’ll be able to read my zombie book and nap.

  “Passing isn’t an option. Kelsey said that tournament attendance is mandatory.”

  “Seriously? We’re on vacation. She can’t make us go.”

  Yasmin shrugs a slim dark shoulder. “You know how she gets about these things. And I think she and this pageant girl have a rivalry going on.”

  “How so?”

  Yasmin hesitates, then meets my gaze. “They were sort of both hitting on Hunter last night.”

  From the way Kelsey and Hunter were draped over each other at the gallery, I guess she won. “Oh.”

  “You okay, Georgia?”

  “Sure.”

  “It’s okay not to be okay, you know.”

  “Yas, I’m fine. Hunter and I are friends, and he can do what he wants.” Raising the mug to my lips, I finish the last drops of my coffee. “But Kelsey will have to find a way to win the tournament without me. Tell her I’m not interested.”

  Famous last words.

  At noon, I’m slink
ing through the ship, looking for somewhere to hide. Jace was still sleeping in our room, so maybe I’ll try the ship’s library. I head down the promenade, keeping an eye peeled for—

  “Hey, Georgia! Looking for the tournament?”

  Turning around, I stifle a groan. It’s Jessica Hennessey and Quinn Chow, Kelsey’s best friends and co-VPs of our sorority. “Actually, I was—“

  “You’re totally going in the wrong direction. Good thing we found you!” Jessica says. She hooks her arm around mine.

  “Look, I’m not really the mini-golf type,” I say.

  “Oh, I promise it’ll be fun,” Quinn says, and they cheerfully drag me outside to the ocean-themed mini-golf course. Yasmin gives me a woeful look when we get there; she looks like she’s still hung-over. Kelsey greets us with an impatient smile, tossing her platinum ponytail over her shoulder. She must be taking this tournament über-seriously because she’s wearing a pink visor, a white polo dress, and a pair of wedged sneakers. I don’t think I’ve seen her without heels on. Meanwhile, I must look like a black hole compared to her with my strapless maxi-dress.

  Kelsey counts us into threes, because cruise ship rules limit each mini-golf group to six, and she wants three Kappas with three Richmond State Thetas in each group so we can make sure the other side doesn’t cheat. We’ll add up all the scores at the end to see who wins.

  Surprisingly, Kelsey puts me with her group, with Quinn rounding out our trio. We get our clubs and brightly-colored golf balls—mine is green—and step up to the first hole, which features a crazy-looking octopus sculpture. Despite the distracting creature, it’s a straight shot, and Kelsey starts us off strong by managing a hole in one. I slap on a smile and clap my hands as she jumps up and down in excitement.

  When it’s my turn, I manage to hit par at two strokes, earning mild praise. My hand-eye coordination isn’t the best, but as the afternoon wears on—thank goodness Jessica lets me borrow her sunscreen—I manage not to totally suck.

  “Yeah, Chloe!” we hear as our group finishes up at the eighth hole of the fifteen hole course. Everyone turns to see several of the Alpha guys hanging over the railing that separates the mini-golf course from the surrounding deck. Chloe’s boyfriend Pete is grinning, and I glance over to see Chloe, two holes behind us, sink down into the curtsy she usually does after one of her theater shows. I guess she got a hole in one or something.

  Beside Pete, Jace is dressed in a gray polo that hugs his arms just right. A warm tingle climbs up my spine when I remember how he wrapped those arms around me last night. His hands on my waist, his lips hot on mine … All of a sudden, Jace looks right at me, and I hastily turn away.

  “Jace is checking you out,” Quinn says with a broad smile. “Did you guys hook up last night? Because we totally spotted you two kissing at the club.” Kelsey nods, and I want to die.

  “No, we didn’t hook up,” I say, swallowing a groan. I knew I wasn’t going to get away without some humiliation.

  “Aw, too bad.” Quinn looks disappointed.

  “Why is that too bad?” I ask, but she shrugs.

  “No reason. So is he a good kisser?”

  “I don’t really remember,” I lie. Parts of last night might be hazy, but I remember every detail of kissing Jace. Of his mouth on my throat, of his lean torso against mine.

  We’re right by a drink cart—because of course there’s a bar here; I swear there are more bars on this ship than on College Ave.—and Kelsey buys two sweet teas. I think one must be for Quinn, since they’re best friends, but instead Kelsey hands a glass to me.

  “You must be parched, Georgia! Here you go.” She’s wearing her pageant smile as she presses the glass into my hand, which makes me wonder what she wants. That’s the thing about Kelsey. She’ll roll out the red carpet for you … but only if you give her something in return.

  “Thanks,” I say cautiously, and take a sip. Cool liquid eases down my throat. Kelsey and I watch as one of the Theta girls makes her putt.

  “Are you having a good time so far?” Kelsey asks. “I’m really glad that you decided to come.”

  “Yeah … me too.”

  “And I’m glad you’re over Hunter, which clearly you are if you’re making out with other guys,” she says. I don’t know what to say to that, so I only stand there. Kelsey puts a hand on my arm. “Look, Georgia, we’re sorority sisters, and that means a lot to me. You know I care about you, right?”

  “Of course.” The glass of tea chills my hand. Now I know why Kelsey put me in her group: so she could corner me about Hunter. I dread what she’ll say.

  “I thought I should give you a heads up that Hunter and I are … hanging out. We’re sort of together. Just so you know.”

  I’m glad I have my sunglasses on, because I don’t want Kelsey to see the look on my face. What did she mean by ‘sort of together’? Did they hook up last night? Were they getting together in Hunter’s fabulous suite while I was getting rejected by Jace McSleeps-With-Everyone? But I don’t ask, because Kelsey is giving me her Miss Teen Alabama look, the one with steel behind the smile. The one that says you’d better be okay with this, you’d better not make a scene, because sisterhood or no sisterhood, you are not getting in my way.

  Honestly, I don’t have the energy to try. I wait for the fury to tear through me. I wait for my lips to spew out horrible things. But mostly I feel numb. Besides, I don’t have the right to get mad at Hunter. Or Kelsey.

  “Okay,” I say, because Kelsey is waiting for me to say it.

  “I didn’t want you to hear it, you know, through the grapevine.”

  “Thanks for thinking of me,” I hear myself say.

  Kelsey beams. Either she didn’t catch my sarcasm or she’s determined to ignore it. “So we’re good then?”

  I nod.

  “That’s great!” She relaxes, that steel behind her smile subsiding. “Oh look, my turn.” She waltzes onto the putting course and sidesteps a fiberglass shark. I sort of wish it would bite her.

  “Hey there,” I hear behind me. It’s a low, masculine voice that makes my muscles tighten. Jace. I remember his breath, hot and sweet, in my ear, but the wash of anticipation is followed quickly by shame. My face feels on fire. I told him I wanted to be a notch on his post, for crying out loud.

  My feet take me around the stone edging of the mini-golf green, away from him, before I can think twice.

  Chapter 7

  Jace

  “Damn, that didn’t go well,” Andy observes gleefully. “She ran away from you!”

  I’m standing on the mini-golf course, feeling like an idiot. Andy’s right—Georgia literally ran in the opposite direction to escape me.

  “Wonderful,” I mutter. But what did I expect, really? Lady Cantwell found me fun enough to hang out with last night, but that was when she was desperate. And then, later, drunk. In the sunny light of the Caribbean day, she’s obviously thought better of hooking up with me.

  Which is exactly why I stopped last night, but damn, it stings.

  “Maybe you kiss like a manatee,” Andy suggests helpfully. He saw us on the dance floor last night, so I told him a little of what happened. He’s carrying a bag of pretzels, and he tosses one in the air before catching it in his mouth and crunching down.

  “Maybe she’s heard too many of those stupid stories you guys always tell about me,” I counter. I visit my mom and sister almost every weekend, so I miss a lot of events. The Alpha guys are cool about it, but razz me by competing to see who can come up with the wildest “What Jace does with his weekends” story to tell the girls they meet. Apparently, I’ve slept my way through Baxter’s entire girl’s soccer team, among other things. I don’t care, usually, because I don’t want a girlfriend. So it shouldn’t bother me that Georgia obviously wants nothing to do with me sober.

  But it does.

  “Oh well. More fish in the sea, right?” Grinning, Andy nods to a couple of Richmond State Theta girls. “What about those fish?” He waves, and a cute redh
ead waves back.

  One of the cruise ship’s staff members comes over. “Gentlemen, are you two part of a mini-golf group?” He probably saw us hop the knee-height stone wall that separates the course from the rest of the deck, because he continues without waiting for our answer. “If you’d like to play, I could sign you up over at the check-in desk.”

  “Maybe later,” I say, and Andy and I jump the stone wall again. The Theta girl who’d waved at us abandons her mini-golf tournament to hop the wall too and chat with Andy. I make occasional contributions to the conversation, but mostly I watch for Georgia.

  There she is, returning from the direction of the bathrooms. She rejoins Kelsey’s group, and putts a green golf ball through a maze of frolicking fake dolphins. She’s wearing a flowing black dress, and her auburn hair is twisted up atop her head. The ocean breeze melds the fabric of her dress against her back and butt, and I feel my body respond.

  Maybe I was an idiot for stopping our hookup last night … except that I know firsthand from my parents how drugs or alcohol can turn you into a different person. The one time my mom managed to kick my dad out of the house without any of us getting injured, she wound up taking him back and letting him move in again after she’d had several beers too many. I remember the remorse in her eyes when she realized she’d let our nightmare back in the house. I don’t want anyone to look at me that way, ever. Especially not Georgia.

  Though her ignoring me doesn’t feel great, either. I only wanted to talk; she doesn’t have to treat me like I’ve got a contagious disease.

  Whatever. If she wants to be her usual prissy, snooty self, I don’t want anything to do with her.

  I try really hard to convince myself of that, but my body won’t forget how amazing she felt in my arms. How she tasted, how her tongue slipped around mine. When she tried to unbuckle my belt, I nearly lost control. I could have had her right there against the wall, hidden by that potted plant. My lower regions go tight just thinking about it, about how she’d feel, and I mentally curse and force myself to stop torturing myself.