7. Morning Conversations
7
MORNING CONVERSATIONS
Magnus
The sunlight burns through my closed eyelids so fiercely that there’s no way I can't hold onto the blissful sleep I’m surfacing from.
Blinking, I look around. My eyelids are the only part of my body I’m willing to move, though, because I’m way too comfortable. I don't want anything to destroy this wonderful floating feeling I’m wallowing in right now. I feel fully refreshed like a flower in the desert welcoming the rains at last.
The sun is warm on my skin.
"Ah- choo !"
Damned sun! Why does it affect me like that?
Wrinkling my nose, I turn onto my back and stretch out my limbs. I’ve lost that contented glow, but stretching after a long night’s sleep feels pretty good too. I’m surprised by the lack of muscle tension in most parts of my body, apart from my shoulders, which are stiffer than normal.
That darned dance class! And there’s more of that shit today — four more hours of it! I only just manage to suppress a groan, because right before it’s about to spill from my lips, I remember I’m not alone in this room.
In Terenberg, I apartment-shared with three other students for ages, but a year ago, I moved out and rented a tiny little apartment just for myself. I desperately needed the peace and quiet.
Right now, though, I don't even have a bedroom to myself ...
Whatever time it is, I decide it's way too early to peer over at Gabriel — who I’m going to assume is still asleep. It’s a temptation for sure, considering my morning wood starts to throb at the mere thought of him.
I consciously turn my head towards the balcony hoping the position of the sun will give me a hint about the time. Bad decision. All thoughts of the sun and its position or the time evaporate as I notice Gabriel reclining in one of the two loungers on our balcony. What is he doing out there so early?
My brain is still fuzzy from sleep, so it needs a moment to classify a strange sound. It was a snore. Is Gabriel asleep on our balcony? Was he out there all night? While these questions rumble through my head, my gaze slides over him.
I can't see much of his body because he’s got his back to me, but part of his shaved head hangs over the backrest and his body fills the rest of the chair. He’s muscularly built, but not overly so. Yesterday, when he arrived, I admired his thick thighs, but the rest of his body is quite lean — he's clearly built for speed.
Images from the Olympics a few months ago flood my mind's eye. Susan made me watch all the Terengian national team games. Not that she ever mentioned Gabriel Verieux was her brother. I really must ask her why she kept it from me. If my brother was competing in the Winter Olympics, I’d tell anyone who’d listen. But that doesn't matter now.
I force my gaze away from the tempting figure on our balcony and pick up my cell phone. If I'm going to be sharing a room — platonically — with this man for the next few weeks, I'd better stop ogling him.
Strengthened by this resolution, I turn to my phone. The large white numbers on the screen make me groan — it's only just after six a.m.! My damned internal body clock. The early morning hours are the perfect time to study, and that’s exactly how I’ve spent them the last few weeks — my body has got into a habit.
Frustrated, I put my cell phone aside. I know myself well enough to veto the chance of falling asleep again now. My best option is to discover what happens on a cruise ship at this ungodly hour, so I sneak into the bathroom.
When I come out a little more refreshed, my gaze inevitably falls again on the sleeping Gabriel on our balcony. For the first time, I worry if he’s cold out there, or that his muscles might be stiff when he wakes up. The loungers seemed comfortable when I used one yesterday, but for a whole night?
I can't do anything about the latter now, but I can make sure he at least doesn't wake up an icicle. I grin at the image of a hockey-playing icicle as I grab one of the dark green comforters I saw in one of the closets yesterday, and step quietly out onto the balcony.
Gabriel
I’m gliding across the ice at top speed. My body is uncomfortably tense. It's time to bring this game to an end. I’ll need to push myself to the limit to get this puck into the goal. But the goal seems too far away. My back hurts and my neck is killing me as I clutch the hockey stick in my hand even tighter. I have to make it! The loud shouting of the crowd seems distant … too far away …
Then what feels like a black cloud passes over me, but I can't quite make out what it is. Is it the shadow of another player? Or has someone dimmed the arena lights? I can still see, but everything has dimmed.
The next moment, I’m flooded with warmth. A pleasantly soft material brushes my bare upper arms. Then I wonder fuzzily why my upper arms are bare. Where is my jersey? My chest protector? My elbow pads? My thermal underwear? Then the murmur of the crowd is interrupted by a loud croaking scream that sounds hideously inhuman.
Shocked, I tear my eyes open, and now, totally disoriented, I stare into the face of a stranger that’s only inches away from mine. No … not a complete stranger. But before I can sort out my confused thoughts, the person laughs mirthlessly.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you ... or was it the seagull?"
Wake me? Seagull?
With the force of a bucket of cold water straight in the face, memories of yesterday flood back. Susan. Klaus. Magnus. The cruise. Magnus. The tango course. Magnus. Flirting. Magnus.
The same Magnus who is standing in front of me, looking at me with concern. As I lift a hand to rub the sleep from my face, a blanket falls from my shoulders. Was that the warmth I just felt? Did he come out and tuck me in? What am I doing out here in this lounger anyway?
Every cell in my body protests as I move gingerly. Shit! I must have fallen asleep on this thing after my workout session and wanting to escape the tempting sight of Magnus. My body hates me for it now. And I hate myself a little bit, too.
Magnus is standing in front of me with a little worry in his eyes right now, and he’s still as tempting as last night, damn him. My mind still isn’t free of him — clearly.
I must have fallen straight asleep as soon as I sat down. Just great!
A groan rumbles from my mouth at the thought.
"Are you alright?" Magnus asks quietly. "I didn't mean to wake you, but I was worried you’d get too cold out here. And I didn’t want you to get a neckache from the chair. There was nothing I could do about that ..." His voice trails off to nothing, and a slight blush blooms on his cheeks.
Sweet as sugar! shoots through my head and I instantly feel heat creeping onto my own cheeks.
Take a deep breath, Gabriel. No one can read your mind, I mentally reassure myself.
I stand up too quickly and my whole body protests. Damn it, how could I have fallen asleep on this damn chair and spent the whole night there? I wasn't even drunk.
"I'm going for a workout," I mumble gruffly in Magnus' direction. He doesn’t deserve my tone considering he tried to stop me from freezing to death, but I'm afraid of what would happen if I were kind to him. I’m overcome by a huge and irrational fear.
Then another thought crosses my mind. "What time is the stupid dance class today?"
"You still have plenty of time. It's only 6:15 a.m. and the first session starts at 10. The second is after dinner, because there’s an afternoon excursion to Casablanca." Magnus is being more friendly and helpful than I deserve.
With a nod, I disappear into the bathroom and try to knead the pain from my tortured neck muscles under the warm spray of the shower. I try not to think about Magnus' sweet smile as I do it.
I fail completely.
On both fronts.
Magnus
As annoyed as I was to wake up so early, this morning’s weather is a real boost. The sun is shining brightly down on the ship, but it's not hot enough to be uncomfortable. A few passengers are out and about but it’s far from crowded. There’s a few families with small children, some pensioners, and me. I grin to myself as I settle down on one of the blue loungers by the pool and enjoy the peace and quiet.
There’s not much going on here yet. A few towels have been placed on loungers, but there’s no sign of the crazy rush you get with almost 4,000 people onboard.
The water in the large pool glistens enticingly, making me want to jump right in — I really should have brought my swimming gear. Two women and a man are doing laps, and my whole body vibrates with the need to let off steam. Despite this, I'm too lazy to leave my spot on the lounger and go get my swimming trunks. The yellow shorts I'm wearing could easily double as swim shorts, but after picking this outfit out especially, jumping in the water in them would spoil the look.
I doom scroll on my cell phone until seven a.m. when the main restaurant opens for breakfast. The buffet has everything your heart could desire — scrambled eggs and fried bacon, next to a station where fresh omelets are prepared, plus there’s a great selection of different cheeses and sausages, including the delicious Spanish Serrano ham, which I absolutely love. Then for those with a sweet tooth, there are various pastries and cakes, and let’s not forget the amazing fruit buffet. The ripe watermelon, pineapple, kiwi, oranges, mangoes, bananas, and figs are simply mouthwatering.
I load a huge plate with sliced fruit and sit down at a table by the window. Land is once again in sight and my gaze roams over the coastline of what must surely be Africa. I’ve never been to Africa. In fact, I haven't gone much further Europe. My parents were never big fans of long-distance travel, as my mother is a little afraid of flying so sitting on a plane for more than a few hours didn’t appeal to her. And as I’m on a limited student’s income now, I don't have the money to travel.
Scanning the coast, I try to gauge the differences between the European one we left last night and this. At first glance, I can’t spot anything particularly unfamiliar, so either the Spanish coast is quite similar to the Moroccan one, or we’re too far away to notice specific details.
It doesn't take long before my mind wanders back to the thorny subject of Gabriel. He acted so strangely this morning, and I’m still not sure what to make of it. Did I cross a line just by covering him up? Although that seems unlikely — it's something anyone would do in that situation. Maybe he’s just not a morning person. And the thing that’s mostly playing on my mind is: did I just imagine it, or did he blush slightly as I explained what I was doing?
A movement drags me out of my thoughts, and Susan drops onto the empty seat opposite, a wide grin plastered on her face.
"I don't want to know," I preempt her.
Susan has the unpleasant tendency to share far too many details about her sex life, and right now, she looks like a cat who’s got the cream. I have no intention of allowing my brain to jump to any visual conclusions, let alone have her provide them, but my statement only makes her grin wider. Thankfully she keeps her mouth shut.
I push my almost full coffee cup towards her, and after taking a sip, she sighs contentedly.
"How was your night?" she asks.
Good question. How was my night?
"I slept well," I answer vaguely but truthfully. What else is there to say? "Where’s Klaus?"
"Still asleep," Susan answers with a shrug, although her eyes are concerned. "He's been overdoing it the last few weeks."
She's probably right. We've all been cramming lately, but the study schedule Klaus has imposed on himself in recent weeks has been downright inhumane. There’s nothing we can do about that now, and no doubt Klaus will be back to his old self after a few days of rest, so I decide to distract Susan for a while.
"And you left him in bed — by himself?" I tease her with a raised eyebrow.
"Couldn't sleep — it’s my damned body clock!" Susan is clearly having the same problem as me. "How's my brother doing?" she continues with barely a pause for breath, concern in her eyes again.
I can’t help wondering if she’s more concerned about the punishing schedule he’s required to keep up or worried if he’s mad at her because of her “surprises” — like me and our tango class.
"He's at the gym," I reply, not avoiding her question but not going into detail either. Something inside me refuses to tell her that he spent the night in a recliner on the balcony. I can't put my finger on why, but it just seems a secret between him and me that Susan doesn't need to know. It may seem ridiculous, but there it is.
"Of course," Susan laughs half-mockingly. "Where else would he be?"
"You know he can't just stop exercising at the end of the season," I snap back.
Susan looks at me with raised eyebrows and I get a little hot under her gaze.
Do not blush! Do not blush! I mentally yell and I’m forced to wonder …
Why did I feel the need to defend Gabriel to his own sister?