Page 46 of The Vacation Mix-Up
I almost spit-take my beer, hysterics itching to burst out of me. “No, I think thatshiphassailed.”
“Ha! I see what you did there.” He goes to slap me on the back but thinks better of it, pointing at me instead.
I point back, acknowledging his restraint.
“But what if I?—”
“No. Riles is off limits.”
He frowns but then grins. “Ahh, that’s right. You want a piece of her.”
I hang my head. “And that, right there, is my point.”
Staring at me dumbfounded, like a puppy who thinks you’ve stolen its ball, I offer him advice he desperately needs, advice I feel will fall on deaf ears.
“You don’t just ‘want a piece’ if you want something real with a woman. You’ve got to get to know her first and let her get to know you.”
“But you said I say the wrong shit.”
“So don’t say the wrong shit.”
“But that’s me. That’s who I am. I say what I say. Why should I change?”
The dickhead makes a dickhead point; I can’t deny him that.
“I guess you need to find a woman who says the wrong shit too. Otherwise, you’re gonna end up with a lot less money in your pocket.”
“Money talks.”
I give up!
Downing the rest of my beer, I set the glass down when it’s completely drained. “I’ll see you around, Ben. Thanks for the drinks. Next time, they’re on me.”
“Yeah. Cool! Next time.” He salutes me, and I leave while I can.
When I get backto the ship a couple of hours later, I go to the shore excursions desk and book the Stonehenge tour. I also ask about the behind-the-scenes ship tour, but the assistant tells me its fully booked without even having to look at the screen. Apparently, those spots were all taken yesterday.
Pissed I didn’t do it earlier, I sign up for a few other things, not wanting to make the same mistake and miss out. I even register for Irish dancing lessons. Why? Because my sis wants me to step out of my comfort zone. Not to mention the tour desk clerk magically convinced me to give it a try.
Feeling like I’ve somehow been swindled, I head back to the room and have a shower. Riles isn’t back yet, so I can take my sweet time and regrow my balls before she returns.
As I pop the lid of her shampoo, I recall hearing her hum theTitanictheme song while she showered before we disembarked. It was kinda adorable. Stupid, but adorable. She seemed really excited when talking about going to the museum, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping to see her there when I quickly walked through the place before heading back to the ship. But I wasn’t going to wait there like a stalker. No doubt she’d peg me for one anyway—she seems the conclusion-jumping type.
Washing the suds from my hair and face, the alarm on my watch chimes, so I turn the faucet off and get out, wondering if I should head back into the city to try and find her. She looked terrified at the prospect of being left behind, and I promised she wouldn’t be.
A man of my word, I dry myself off with the intent to track her down before we set sail when the cabin door opens then slams shut. Relief swims through me, so I tie the stupid little towel around my waist and exit the bathroom, casually strolling out.
“You made it back in time,” I say with a smile.
“I—” She shoots up from lying on her bed, eyes wide as they scan my body. “Shit! Sorry, I-I forgot to knock.”
Pleased she fucked up before I did—because I’m bound to—I smile proudly. “Yeah, you did.”
Riles doesn’t move, her mouth open, her face beautifully flushed.
Amused, I ask, “Are you going to watch me get dressed?”
“No! Of course not. Sorry, I-I’m…. I’ll leave and give you privacy.”
