Page 68 of One True Loves

When I wake up the next morning, I’m alone. I rack my brain trying to remember where we’re docked today. Marseille. That’s right. The cute French town that looked like Belle’s hood fromBeauty and the Beastin all the brochures. Alex and I planned to...

Well, that doesn’t matter anymore.

I check the clock. It’s somehow noon? So they must have all gone on without me. I wonder if they’re seeing the island alone, or if they kept their tour plans with the Lees. Is Alex with them right now? All of them playing happy family and pretending like nothing’s wrong...

No, I can’t go down that mental path either.

I look around the dark, windowless room. I’m definitely not stepping foot in Marseille and risking seeing Alex with my family, but I sure as hell can’t stay here all day. I pop another Dramamine—Etta told me I could take up to eight a day—and lie there, making a plan, as I wait for it to go into effect.

An hour later, I am freshly showered, wearing a wide-brimmed straw boater hat that mostly hides my face, and heading out of my room. I’m going to get an overpriced cold-pressed juice, something tropical and delicious, and then I’m going to lay out in the sun by the pool for the rest of the dayand have the kind of summer that I deserve. I refuse to let the rest of this trip be ruined. No one deserves that kind of power over me.

I take the elevator up to Deck 5 and check the huge map there for the juice bar I know I’ve seen before. I scan the thing with my finger, finally figuring out its coordinates, but when I turn to leave, I bump right into someone.

“I’m sorry!” I shout, but then my eyes go wide when I see who it is I just apologized to.

Natalia is standing there, fresh-faced in expensive-looking leggings, holding a jumbo-sized green juice.

“Oh, hi! Lenore, right?” she says, beaming at me. “Alex told me all about you!”

I narrow my eyes at her, trying to determine what angle she’s going for, and her bright smile falters.

“I know yesterday, things looked a little... cozy, but it wasn’t like that at all. Alex and I have just been friends for so long.” I continue to stare at her, which makes her voice speed up and get higher. “I hope you two were able to work things out last night. That performance at dinner... well, I get why you ran out. All the attention. But that’s Alex! He loves his big romantic moments, doesn’t he?”

The big romantic moments that he used to do for you, I think, but I don’t say out loud. Instead I continue to stare, my muteness probably veering from intimidating to just awkward. My eyes catch on something tucked under her arm. A yoga mat.

“You going to a class?” I say finally, gesturing to it.

She looks down at the mat and then gives me her huge toothpaste-commercial smile again, probably grateful for the conversation bone I threw her. “Oh yes! I’ve been practicing yoga for years! I think I want to do my teacher training on weekends this fall. I found a great place near UCLA. Do you practice?”

“No,” I say, but meanwhile my mind is whirring. She’s been doing yogafor years. Is that why Alex was there that first sea day? Was he hoping to run into her, and instead he got me?

“Listen,” Natalia continues, leaning in close to me like we’re old friends. I take a step back. “I really hope you and Alex are able to work things out, whatever happened. He was so happy when he was talking about you yesterday, and he’s just so wonderful.”

All I can think about is how much better she knows him. How she was and will probably always be Alex’s first choice. How she’s trying to push her castoffs onto me.

But no, I need to stop. I can’t do the petty thing where I search for things wrong with a girl just because she’s been involved with the same guy as me. Natalia is probably great. And I’m sure I’d be able to appreciate that under different circumstances.

I just need to go.

“Thank you, but I don’t think so,” I say, and then wave at her. “Have fun at yoga!”

I turn and walk away. I can feel the confusion wafting off her, but I’ve given all I have right now. I head outside, abandoning my plans to get juice. Juice is stupid. I want coffee instead. Ormaybe the swirled soft-serve ice cream that they have on every level of this ship. I could survive on soft-serve for the next two days, and avoid the dining room until we dock in Barcelona.

There are a lot of people on the main deck. I wind around groups playing shuffleboard and taking selfies. Kids splash in the pools while their parents sip on drinks with giant umbrellas and read paperbacks. All the loungers and chairs by the pool are filled with people. I probably won’t get one after all. Why are all these people hanging out on this stupid ship when there’s a French city with fancy churches and museumsright there? It’s not like they’ve got an awkward situation with an almost-boyfriend to avoid.

I realize, suddenly, that I recognize one of those people. On a lounger in the shade, pulled far away from everyone else, is Wally. He’s holding his phone and a giant textbook on his lap, probably the English lit one I caught him trying to hide in our room.

I stride over to him. “Hey, nerd!” I call, cupping my hand to the side of my mouth.

His head pops up, and his eyes are saucers. Caught.

“I can’t believe you’re out here reading that,” I say. “But, actually, I guess I can believe it. It’s totally on brand for—” As I get closer, I see that he’s not looking at me. His eyes are unfocused, strange. He’s breathing fast and heavy, I can hear it from where I’m standing.

“Wally?” His hand reaches up to clutch his chest. “Wally! Stop playing!”

“Lenore, I—” He falls forward before he can finish whatever he was going to say, his forehead hitting the ground. I rush to his side.

“Help! I need help!”

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