Chapter 5 River
River
I can’t wait for this evening to be over. The whole day has sucked.
Running into Cleo with Boot, Kit, and Cheddar in tow wasn’t what I’d hoped for, but it did present me the opportunity to set some boundaries. The conversation did not go as expected.
Nice. That word haunts me. She said our night together was nice! Oh, it was also fine. Fine and nice, like we’d shared a cup of tea and a digestive biscuit together rather than hours of hot sex.
I left the dining hall and went straight back to my bunk. Thankfully the girls were on duty and I had the place to myself. My work shift started within the hour, though, so I didn’t get a chance to take a nap, which my body and brain needed. Instead, I ruminated on Cleo’s words.
Fine and nice. Really? Really?!
There are two things I pride myself on, and that’s being good at my job and being an excellent lover. My friends think I’m cocky and arrogant. Hell, they’re probably right, but that doesn’t change the fact I’m good in bed.
So, how could my time with Cleo be just fine and nice?
Was I drunk? Yes. Did I temporarily blank out the memories?
Yes. But when they came back to me, I remember the night well.
I remember the way Cleo’s thighs trembled when I went down on her the second time.
The way she fisted my hair so hard it hurt.
The broken gasp she made when I added a third finger.
The way she begged—actually begged—for the strap.
That wasn’t nice. That was fucking spectacular.
So, how could my time with Cleo be just fine and nice?
Is it a way of punishing me for sneaking out? Even if it is, why should I care?
I had all that shit rattling around in my brain as I went on work duty.
Not ideal when WO Benson seemed to be everywhere.
He was just looking for a reason to call me out.
He caught me checking the missile guidance system, stood there for a full minute watching me work.
Waiting. Hoping I’d fuck up or miss a step.
When I finished the diagnostic perfectly, he just grunted and walked away.
Tosser.
I bet it pissed him off I’d not complained about my new work assignment. Which I still wasn’t clear on.
Chaperoning Cleo could mean anything. Am I expected to wait around for her? Something else I thought about as I completed the routine maintenance check on our missile guidance system.
By the time I had to leave and dress for dinner, my mood was sour. Not only did I have to get dressed up in my parade uniform, I then had to sit with Cleo and her dad all night making small talk, when all I wanted to do was pick our conversation up from earlier and prove her wrong.
Getting into the number one uniform is always a faff. The jumper has to sit just right, the scarf needs to be knotted perfectly, and don’t even get me started on the hat.
Cheddar, with a stupid grin on her face, helped me straighten everything before I left. “You look proper smart, Romeo,” she’d said. “Try not to shag the admiral’s daughter at dinner.”
“Fuck off.”
When Cleo opened the door, all the blood rushed to my crotch. Vulgar, but true. The simple evening gown fitted like a glove, and her hair…wow. Flowing over her shoulders in soft waves. The lights aren’t the most flattering on a ship, but damn, Cleo glowed under them, looking good enough to eat.
Her shoulders were bare, just a hint of collarbone visible. The dress hugged her waist, her hips. I remember those hips. Remember gripping them as I—
But then I heard fine and nice echoing in my brain again, and that doused the fire pretty sharpish. We headed to the captain’s private quarters, and voila. Here we are.
I spot several crewmates who I class as friends waiting on us. That makes my face heat. Meatball catches my eye and smirks. Brilliant. By breakfast, the entire crew will know I had dinner with the brass. They’ll take the piss for weeks.
The table is set with crystal flutes and silver cutlery.
I’m so out of my depth. Usually I thrive under pressure.
In my job, that is. But outside of it, I’m a bit crap.
My body language gives me away every time, and the way Cleo keeps looking at me I think it’s happening now.
She can see how uncomfortable I am, and that somehow makes it worse.
The admiral and captain are chatting away again. Cleo is sort of on the periphery of it and I’m still close to the door, wondering if I could get away with sneaking out.
“Are we ready to eat,” the admiral calls. It’s not a question. He’s already sitting at the head of the table.
My uniform feels stifling as I take my seat.
Meatball, a.k.a. Mike Murray, pours us all a glass of Champagne.
He side-eyes me with a small grin. Meatball is part of the ship’s kitchen crew and a damn fine cook.
He earned his moniker by stuffing five meatballs in his mouth without choking at the ship’s Christmas party three years ago.
“Shall we raise a glass,” the admiral begins. “To safe seas and new adventures.”
“Cheers,” we all chorus.
“Dawson.” Ah shit, I was hoping he’d forget I’m here. “Captain Morley tells me you’ve been aboard the ship for going on five years.”
“Yes, sir. Five years next month.”
He takes a generous swig of his drink. “And you haven’t promoted up?”
I shake my head. “No, sir. I’m quite happy where I am. I enjoy my job.”
“You’re an engineer, correct?”
“Weapons Engineer, sir.”
“You should be looking at a Petty Officer rank by now, Dawson.”
I go to answer, but Cleo butts in. “Not everyone wants to rank up, Dad.”
“It’s natural progression, Cleo.”
“It’s an assumption,” she shoots back.
Wow, the tension just shot up several notches. Cleo and dear old dad have some issues. The table falls silent for a few moments. I want to crawl up my own arse at this point. What I wouldn’t give to be back in my bunk, flicking Wotsits at Boot or playing poker with Cheddar and Kit.
“We’ve decided to give the crew an extra night of shore leave,” the captain finally says. It’s the best news I’ve heard all day. “They’ll have tomorrow evening and then it’s back to business. There’s a lot to organise before we ship out.”
“Good idea,” the admiral replies.
Our food is served, and it’s delicious. Simple meat and vegetables, but the taste is outstanding. The captain and admiral start up a conversation regarding the upcoming exercises in the Atlantic. I cast a quick look towards Cleo, but her focus is solely on her food.
If the universe has mercy, we’ll wrap this shit up fast and leave. It’s clear none of us wants to be here. Well, the admiral probably does. After all, he’s still talking. Boy, does he like the sound of his own voice.
After a delicious wedge of chocolate cake and coffee, I sense it’s the right time to bid them all goodnight. “Sir, Captain, thank you for inviting me this evening. I wondered if it would be okay for me to take my leave. I have work duty at 06:00 sharp.”
The captain nods. “Certainly, Dawson. After tomorrow’s shift, please report to Cleo. She will give you an itinerary.”
Cleo smiles. “I will. Although I can’t foresee needing you all that much. I’ve got a pretty good layout of the ship already.”
“I’d prefer it if you were accompanied, Cleo,” Admiral Carter interjects. Cleo’s jaw tightens, but she doesn’t argue.
“I’ll be in my cabin most of the day. Just stop by,” she says to me.
With the night over, I let out a puff of air the second I’m out of the room. The sound of the door opening and closing again pulls my attention. Cleo steps out, looking just as happy as me to be out of there.
“I’ll try not to call on you too often, Dawson,” she says without preamble. “I really don’t see the point of having a babysitter, but as you can see, it’s not my decision.”
“It’s fine,” I say, keeping my voice cool.
“No, it’s not. We both know it.”
At least she’s on the same page. “Can I escort you back to your cabin?”
She eyes me with curiosity, which is fair. I don’t even know why I offered.
“Okay. Thank you.”
This is the politest we’ve been to each other so far. The ship is quiet, even though it never really sleeps. The crew work 24/7 in shifts of eight hours. I rotate to night shifts next week, which isn’t my favourite. Huh, maybe if Cleo needs me to show her around, I could get out of them.
“You look like you’re thinking hard over there, Dawson.”
It feels weird hearing my name come out of her mouth. She screamed River last night, which I prefer.
“I was hoping you might need me to show you around next week. In the daytime, that is.”
Her eyebrows scrunch. It’s adorable. “What other time of day would I need you?”
“Oh, no, I mean it’s just I have a week of nights coming up, and I was hoping you’d get me out of it.”
She chuckles. “Fair enough. Considering my presence is messing with your life, I’m sure I can help you out.”
We walk along in comfortable silence, which is surprising. No barbs, no tension. Just the sound of our footsteps echoing off the metal walls. It’s almost…nice.
Fuck. There’s that word again.
As we arrive at her door, I have the overwhelming urge to kiss her. She’s standing close enough that I can smell her perfume—something floral and expensive. Her lips are slightly parted, and for half a second I think she might be feeling it too. That pull.
But then she blinks, and the moment’s gone.
Clearly I’m still trying to prove that I’m better than nice and fine. It’s the only logical reason.
“Well, thank you for escorting me back. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
And then she’s gone. The door shuts with a click and I’m left standing there looking at it.
“Okay then,” I mutter to myself.
I’m half undressed by the time I get back to my bunk. Boot is lifting dumbbells with earphones in. Kit is talking to someone on her laptop. I presume it’s her very pregnant sister, and Cheddar is…throwing Wotsits at herself.
“Oi oi, the wanderer returns,” she says after hitting herself in the eye. Her face has orange powder all over it.
“You’re a pig, you know that right?”
She laughs. “Only in here, Rome. Plus, Wotsits are my Kryptonite. I fucking love ’em.”
“So?” Boot gasps out as she continues to lift the weights.
I shrug. “It was as you imagine. Stuffy, uncomfortable, and pretentious. Just glad it’s done with.”
“Sarah says hi,” Kit calls from her bed. Skipping over, I shove my face in front of the camera. Kit’s sister is one of the nicest people I know. She told Kit’s parents to go fuck themselves when they disowned her for being queer.
“Romeo, it’s been too long. When are you coming to visit?”
“Soon, I promise. Although by the looks of you, you’ll have too much on your plate to want visitors.”
She groans. “I’m the size of a whale, and everything hurts. I just want the little fucker out of me.”
“Soon, sis. If you’ve not popped by the end of the month they’re gonna induce you, aren’t they?”
She nods. Her eyes show how utterly exhausted she is. “Hopefully I won’t have to wait that long. I’m on a diet of spicy food, and Benjamin is having to screw me three times a day.”
I love Sarah. She’s the family Kit deserves. The one who showed up when her parents turned their backs. Watching Kit talk to her, seeing that smile on her face—it makes something in my chest tighten.
I grimace. “No one needs to hear that, Sarah.”
Cackling, she winks. “You aren’t the only sexually promiscuous woman, Rome.”
“Is it promiscuous if it’s with your husband though?” I tease back.
“It is if you knew the positions we get into.”
Holding both hands up in defeat, I laugh. “And that’s me out of the convo. Take care of yourself, love. We’ll visit when the little one arrives.”
“Yeah, I’m going too, sis. I’ll call tomorrow.”
Boot and Cheddar call their goodbyes. Kit slips the laptop under her bunk and then looks at me, waiting.
“What?”
“Come on. Give us the gossip.”
With my uniform finally off, I start the task of hanging it up so it doesn’t crease. “Really, there’s nothing to tell. Oh, we are getting another night shore leave, so I can make good on paying for a night out.”
Cheddar whoops and Kit claps.
“Great. I need the touch of a woman before we set sail,” Cheddar announces.
Boot finishes her workout and grabs her wash kit. “Honestly, me too. It’s been a while.”
Boot is a little shyer than the rest of us when it comes to picking up women at bars. I’m glad she’ll be letting loose.
Kit rolls her neck. “I’ll see what happens. I’m more interested in rinsing Romeo of her cash.”
I chuckle. “You’ll get no argument from me. I owe you all.”
Cheddar bounces up from her bed. “Great. So tomorrow we’re out on the lash, yeah?”
My back hits my mattress with a thunk. My body and brain are tired. Ideally I should stay on board tomorrow and out of trouble. But then those two words resurface, and I know I have to prove I’m more than fine and nice.
Fuck it. Tomorrow I’m finding someone who knows the difference between nice and mind-blowing.