Page 15 of Ship Happens
Maverick glances at the bedside clock. “The Bruise Cruise officially pulled out of port around an hour ago.”
My heart sinks. “Seriously? I didn’t feel a thing.”
“The stabilizers on these ships are pretty state-of-the-art. Unless we hit some very rough seas, you shouldn’t feel much of anything.” He turns and looks at me, and only now do I notice just how green his eyes are. Seafoam and glitters of gold swirl around his black pupils. “Are you sure you’re okay to go to the games?”
I get off the bed and step toward my bag, if for no other reason than to put a little more space between us. Looking into his eyes is the only game I need to avoid.
“I told you, I’m fine. Stop mothering me. What with our age difference, it should be the other way around.” I pull a t-shirt and jeans from the bag. “How should I dress for this event? Is there some sort of app to tell me what we’ll be doing?”
Maverick steps around the bed, putting himself in my personal bubble again. “Hang on. Back up to what you said before that. You can’t be more than five or six years my senior.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-two.”
I smirk. “I’m thirty-eight. That’s a sixteen-year age difference, and I’d say that’s pretty substantial. But only if we were trying to fuck?—”
“Which we aren’t,” we say in unison.
That moment breaks the surface tension, and we finally laugh. I’m glad we’re on the same page about that. Now if I could just get my fucking vagina to think rationally...
“If Jim doesn’t tell us, we can just wear whatever we want,” Maverick says.
“So he doesn’t micro-manage every aspect?”
Maverick shakes his head, but his short blond hair doesn’t budge from the styled hard part. Does he use product? “Nah, he mostly lets us have free rein. He’s only funny about the first and last nights. Usually.”
An opening presents itself, so I take it.
“Could you spin around while I change?” I ask, and he does. Personally, I could give two shits about my modesty, but I want to gauge his body language when he answers me, and that’s easier to do when he isn’t looking directly at me when I’m looking directly at him. “Tell me a little more about Jim. What does he do when he isn’t organizing retreats for serial killers?”
His shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. “Nothing much to tell. We don’t know a lot about him.” He pauses, then clears his throat. “Look, I know this is your first retreat, but wedon’t exactly have sharing circles where we talk about ourselves outside of these events. I’m afraid I won’t have much info on most of these people, if that’s what you’re looking for.”
“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to pry. Just trying to make conversation while I strip directly behind a stranger.”
He turns to face me. “Would you feel more comfortable if I stepped into the hall?”
“I would feel more comfortable if you didn’t turn around when my tits are out.” I scramble to put on my t-shirt, which is a bit too baggy and hangs off my shoulder, but I’m not really bothered that he turned around. The fact that his eyes never strayed below my chin is a little annoying, though.
He smiles and turns to face the door again. “My apologies.”
The uneasy feeling returns, and my heart picks up speed. He didn’t appreciate me sniffing so close to Jim, and by saying they don’t really talk much at these things, he was quick to put an end to all future questions about anyone at all.
As I fasten the button and raise the zipper on my shorts, I make a mental note to grab my gun while Maverick is asleep tonight. I’ll feel a lot less jumpy once my gear is close at hand. I’m essentially walking around naked, and that’s making me anxious. Without my service pistol, badge, and other tools of my trade, I have only my brain, and that bitch is betraying me at every turn.
“Okay, you can turn around now,” I say once I’m dressed.
He faces me and gives me a once over before uttering a low whistle. “You dress down good, sweetheart,” he says with a laugh, and that little pet name makes my heart flutter.
“It’s still better than the space costume.”
“I dunno. Before, your face was covered up. Now we all have to look at it. Gross.” He makes a gagging face, and I swat his arm. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. You look...”
As he hesitates and searches for the appropriate word, I hang on that pause. Will he go the safe route and say I’m cute? Or will he try flattery and tell me I’m beautiful?
“You look really familiar, now that I think about it.” His eyebrows pull together, and he leans closer. This went in a direction I didn’t anticipate, but okay. “I can’t put my finger on it, but I feel like we’ve met somewhere before. Do you spend any time in Florida?”
I shake my head.
