Thea
“I’m going swimming.” We’ve been sitting in this room for hours.
I spent the first hour asking Pierce questions to which he couldn’t give me a definitive answer.
Like, “How long do you think that guy in my room had been dead before we got there?”, or “Why my room?”, and “When will I get my memories back?”
I spent the next three hours mindlessly watching TV while Pierce did “research” on his laptop. I only caught a glimpse of his screen once, but it seems he has just as many unanswered questions as I do.
Pierce said we couldn’t get off the boat when it docked this morning, and I agree. But… I’m going to scream if I don’t get out of this claustrophobic closet.
“I thought you wanted to stay in the room and hide?” comes his snarky reply.
“Yeah, well, then I remembered this was also supposed to be my vacation. I need some vitamin D.”
He smirks but says nothing as I haul my luggage into the tiny bathroom. With it in here, there’s barely enough room to stand. I’m not sure how Pierce even fits in this room.
I unzip the bag, then dig inside, searching for treasure.
My aunt’s book! Now I can sit on the deck and throw myself into a fictional world that may be crazier than my current reality.
I carefully extricate it from the clothes so I don’t dent any pages then gently set it on the eight-inch countertop and reach back into the suitcase.
It’s a solid five minutes of grunting and searching before I locate a bathing suit. Whatever it is will have to be good enough.
I put on the bright pink polka-dot bikini, tug a t-shirt over top, and leave the freakishly small bathroom. Pierce should have kicked off someone who had a balcony room, but I guess beggars can’t be choosers.
Pierce’s laptop is closed on his stomach, and his breathing is steady. He’s napping. That’s probably against spy protocol, but who am I to complain. I step carefully out of the bathroom and toward the door. The man is wonderful to look at and all, but not the best company.
While I’m grateful he’s sacrificing his time and energy to be my bodyguard, I could use a break to process without him near. Maybe the fresh air will help me remember something.
I hug my book to my chest as I slip out of the room, careful to close the door quietly behind me. Glee kicks at my heels, and I race down the carpeted hallway, my feet flying free.
An arm latches around my waist, knocking the air out of me. My body sags as I’m shoved into an alcove.
A scream gets trapped in my throat as my demise becomes certain. I shouldn’t have been so eager to leave my protection.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Pierce speaks with a low, dangerous murmur, his breath hot on my neck.
My chest deflates, and I relax into his embrace. It’s not bad as far as holds go. His arms are large and comforting, except for when they were terrifying. The sensation serves to restore my sanity… and make me a little light-headed.
“I told you I wanted to go swimming.” I turn my head and swallow at his nearness.
“You were running away from me.”
“Is that how it looked?” I scrunch my nose. “Maybe I was running toward the pool and the ice cream bar. I get pretty excited about sugar.”
He spins me around, pressing my back against the wall. His jaw is clenched, his gaze unrelenting. I sober whatever happiness dared to exist in my chest. “I know this situation isn’t ideal, but I’m the only thing standing between you and imminent danger.”
When he says it like that, I almost feel bad. “I’m sorry.” I barely stop myself from reaching my arms around him and giving him a hug I fear he’s long overdue for. “I really am excited to swim.”
He releases me. “Let’s go then. But no drowning. I’d hate to save you from a bullet just to watch you sink to the bottom of a pool.”
“That was a bit morbid. Are you saying you can’t swim?”
He scoffs. “Of course I can. I just don’t like it, so don’t make me.”
The idea of ‘making’ him do anything is rather appealing. How would one go about such a task? Maybe I could dangle a steak over the pool and treat him like Pavlov’s dogs. I’ve always wanted to try that on a human, but apparently it’s not “ethical”. Ethics ruin everything.
I offer Pierce a salute, then turn on my heel and continue. His hand catches mine. I look at him, the question obvious in my arched brow.
“We’re married,” he says simply.
Right. That’s the only reason his giant hand is clasping mine, so I shouldn’t get any ideas about how they might feel on my waist… or cupping my chin as he leans in…
That’s enough.
One minute later, I figure out his other motivation for grabbing my hand: to delay my progress as much as possible.
I’m practically dragging a man well over six feet.
It’s slow and exhausting. We’ve only made it up one flight of stairs.
Two more to go, and then the pool deck to traverse.
He’s holding me down, like an anchor to my Neverland ship, preventing me from flying.
“You better be careful… you might just convince me you enjoy… physical affection,” I pant as I tow him toward the next level of stairs.
“What? I’m walking.”
“Like a giant snail.”
“Have you learned your lesson about trying to escape from me?”
“I’ve learned…” I tug him around the corner. “That holding hands can be… torture.”
“Did your boyfriend not hold your hand enough?”
That’s it. I twist my hand out of his grasp. “Couples don’t hold hands all the time.”
“Maybe that was your problem. But my wife will know she’s wanted.”
A chill zips up my spine but I don’t let it consume me. I need lightness and sun.
“Let’s try again later then,” I say, and then I take off running. He does too, and it’s a race to the top deck. Pierce beats me, of course, but I don’t even care.
The sun is heaven on my skin, and I nearly drop to my knees to praise it. I’m not a homebody. I’m also not an adventurer. However, I make it a priority to spend time outside each day.
Pierce strides to a shaded lounge chair and drops into it, putting his sunglasses on… so he can scowl at the world in peace, I suppose.
“For such an interesting man, you’re kind of boring.” I drop my book and a towel on the chair before ripping off my cover-up.
I can’t confirm his eyes on my body since they are hiding behind dark sunglasses, but I sense them. Taking me in. One inch at a time. Branding me. Then he snorts.
“For such a confusing woman, you’re rather predictable. Pink polka dots?”
“Pink polka dots are adored by all.”
“Sure.” He drops his head to the chair like he intends to sleep. I chuck my shirt at him. He only shoves it to the side with a chuckle.
Since most people are enjoying the nice day on shore, the largest pool is nearly empty.
A few people are milling about at the other end and don’t pay me any mind as I slip into the cool water.
I go all the way under. Partly because I want to, but also because I misjudged how deep this end was.
I kick off the bottom and swim in the other direction.
Down and back. For the first time in twenty-four hours, the world is absolutely silent, so I keep swimming.
I force my body through stroke after stroke, like if I swim fast enough, far enough, I can put this horrible mess behind me for good.
With each fierce stroke of my arms, I grow stronger. Braver. Capable.
Hopeful.
Until my head hits a very tanned body that wasn’t there moments ago.
I drop my feet to the ground, popping out of the water with my hair covering my face like a wet rag.
I shove it back and face the person I just rammed into.
A man, mid-thirties, with a smile that looks like it has been professionally manufactured.
“I’m so sorry—” The man cuts me off with a raised hand and a flirtatious smile.
“I’m sorry I got in your way. You’ve got some speed.”
A strand of hair is stuck around my neck like a noose. I swipe at it. It stays stuck like a barnacle. “I, uh, yeah, I kind of forgot this was a relaxing pool.”
“Not anymore, you’ve got my heart racing.” He reaches forward, freeing the clump of hair from my neck.
“Oh.” I step out of his reach. The comment causes me to size him up in a way I usually refrain from doing. Former prep school kid with an unusually large ego. Used to getting what he wants. Especially women.
My smile is forced as I say, “Well, I was just finishing up.” I take a minuscule step back.
“Sorry, that was lame. Don’t leave on my account. You were enjoying yourself and… let’s just say I’m jealous.” He runs a hand through his wet hair and flexes his bicep. “This trip hasn’t been what I expected.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” I angle my body toward Pierce, intent on heading to my end of the pool when his next words stop me.
“My girlfriend broke up with me right before we were supposed to go on this trip. Now I’m alone, surrounded by happy people, and it’s utterly miserable.” He frowns, leaning against the pool wall, looking… genuine.
The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. “I understand that more than you know.”
“Recent breakup?” He raises a brow.
“Something like that.” I should leave. Our conversation has run its course, and Pierce has already warned me not to talk to people. Maybe it’s the lolling of the warm sun on my skin, or the sense of security, but I don’t move. A willing conversation partner is hard to come by these days.
“You know what?” he blurts. “Why do they get to determine our happiness?” He grabs his drink from the edge of the pool, lifting the delicious-looking fruity thing to his lips. “We should have fun just to spite them.”
That is the first good idea I’ve heard all day, and I regret my hasty judgments on his character. “I agree with that assessment.”
“I heard there’s trivia at the Slippery Mermaid tonight,” he says, leaning against the pool wall.
I choke on a laugh. “You just made that up.”
He grins, and I’m reluctantly forced to admit that it’s a nice smile. “The trivia or the name of the bar? Haven’t you noticed all the funny names on this ship? The kiddie pool over there is called The Ducky Dive. I passed a bathroom named Booty Bay.”
“That’s terrible.” Also amazing. I’ll now pay more attention.
“So, what do you say to trivia? Want to go?”
I’d forgotten where he might have been going with his previous statement. I’m dying to do something normal, with someone normal, but I’m technically fake married. “Oh, uh, I’m kind of here with someone.”
The man waves his hand in the air. “Bring them, too. It will be a blast.”
Terrible idea. But really, can it get worse at this point? I think not. I deserve to let go for one night.
Though the last time I ‘let go’ I woke up with memory loss. I won’t drink anything this time. “Sure. That sounds fun. We’ll meet you there.” I’m making my way out of the pool when he calls to me.
“Wait, what’s your name?”
I open my mouth to answer with the immediate response when I remember Pierce’s warning… and the fact that’s not who I am on this boat. “Jennie.”
“Cooper. See you later.”