Page 30 of Why Cruise

He had dragged me to the mall, back when malls were still cool hangout spots for kids with nothing better to do than wander around and text on their RAZRs. We were fourteen. He had been convinced that the next Gates and Jobs would spend their down time rock climbing.

I fell, first time. Ren had laughed for days, like he knew that was the thing that would get me obsessed.

Now I could climb 5.12b in my sleep. This cruise ship wall was barely a 5.6, the kind of thing I’d warm up on. Looking at those holds in the dim light, something pulled at me. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was seeing Ren earlier, bringing back memories of that first awkward climb and his steadying hand on the rope.

“Fuck it.”

I stepped over the rail and flipped the mat down. I ran my hands over the holds, muscle memory taking over as I plotted my route. I kicked off my shoes and stuffed my socks into the toes. I folded my jacket neatly and rolled up my sleeves. The firstfew moves were easy, even with the ship’s gentle roll beneath me. No harness, no rope, no spotter. Just me and the wall.

Like a fucking idiot.

I’d gotten into fistfights with the free soloing asshats who acted like ropes were for cowards. I’d blown up in multiple climbing forums, tearing apart those thrill-seekers who glorified the risk of death. I even had a comprehensive PowerPoint presentation loaded with preventable accident statistics, ready to unleash on anyone who dared romanticize the practice of climbing without protection.

And here I was, doing exactly what I preached against. The thing I’d called “death by ego” in my last Aura & Algorithm interview when they asked about my climbing obsession. But my hands were already reaching for the next hold, my body already moving up the wall like it knew better than my brain what I needed right now.

The holds were slick with ocean spray, but I’d climbed worse. Each movement was precise, calculated. Pull with the arms, push with the legs, control the core. My body remembered even if my mind was chaos.

I reached the top in minutes. I stood and panted, face up toward the night sky, and let the adrenaline flood my system.

Satisfaction coursed through me for exactly sixty seconds before reality crashed in.

“Shit.”

Getting up had been the easy part. Getting down… I looked over my shoulder at the mat below, barely visible in the darkness. Thirty feet had never looked so far. I couldn’t rappel. The belay system was all put away.

The breeze that had been refreshing on the deck now carried the sharp bite of height and stupidity. The gentle roll of the ship, barely noticeable on the ground, made the wall shift under my hands in a way that turned my stomach. My brain churned.Going up had been instinct and muscle memory. Coming down would be calculation.

How was this my solution to emotional turmoil? Trading one loss of control for another? At least when I’d trashed the server room, I’d been on solid ground.

Ren. It was always fucking Ren.

My fingers slipped on a wet hold. I wiped them on my thigh. I pushed back from the wall as much as I dared, desperate to make sense of the color coded holds. But they were, fuck me, mapped out for easy assent, not descent.

“Brilliant, Twill,” I muttered. “Really fucking brilliant.”

I was only about fifteen feet up now. I could make that jump. Probably.

My arms started to shake. The win that had seemed like such a good idea at dinner now felt like a terrible choice. Another wave rocked the ship.

“Oh, you dumb fuck.”

I pushed off, trying to control my fall. The impact knocked the wind out of me, and I lay there gasping on the mat, staring up at the stars, wiggling fingers and toes just to make sure I hadn’t snapped my spinal cord. But at least I wasn’t thinking about Ren anymore.

“That,” I wheezed to myself, “was incredibly stupid.”

“Yes. Yes it was.”

I squeezed my eyes shut to keep the curses from rolling off my tongue. When I opened them, Ren was right over me, smirking, with lines crinkling his forehead. He extended his hand. Those long fingers I definitely hadn’t been staring at during dinner reaching for mine.

“You know, most people just hit the gym when they’re worked up over omegas they don’t want to do anything about.”

“Most people aren’t trapped on a floating prison.”

“Most people also don’t climb cruise ship walls at midnight.”

“Fuck off, Ren.”

I swatted his hand away and pushed myself to my feet, refusing to acknowledge how my legs shook.

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