Chapter 6
Standing on the port, I look down at the large cruise ship on the brochure and then back up to the small one in front of me.
The Driftwood Voyager.
Yup, that’s my ship, and it might have three floors, five restaurants, two pools, and a casino, but it’s not what I expected. I guess I was hoping for something bigger. Something that felt like a city that I could get lost amongst thousands of people.
This isn’t that.
It looks like it holds space for maybe five hundred.
How am I supposed to get lost in that?
“Excuse me, Miss. Are you boarding? We’re leaving soon,” the nice attendant asks.
Well, here goes nothing.
“Yes.”
She scans my boarding pass, and I head up the ramp to the boat, pulling my suitcase along with me.
Apprehension bubbles in my stomach. If I call it excitement, will that make it feel less like I’m going to throw up? I hope so.
When I’m fully boarded with my room key, a cute busboy offers to take my bag to my room so I can enjoy the departure. I let him solely because I don’t want to start the journey in my room, hiding away from everything.
That’s when it hits.
No suitcase. No friend.
Just me and my purse.
I look around and everyone is mingling, drinking their complimentary champagne, while I’m feeling too queasy to even accept a glass.
I walk over to the edge of the ship and hold on to the side, looking out at the horizon.
So much possibility awaits me. I just need to accept it.
The departure horn blasts one final time as the boat starts to move.
My feet are a tiny bit shaky, but I gain my footing back quickly.
Some of the guests around me cheer, clinking their glasses in celebration. I offer them a small smile before turning back to watch the ship leave Miami’s port.
The ship lurches slightly when we hit open water, making my stomach do this weird flip.
Oh, no.
The last time it felt like that was when I accidentally ate some shellfish that was off at one of my parents’ fancy dinners.
Another lurch.
My stomach flips again.
I grip the railing tighter, taking a deep breath.
It’s fine. I’m fine. I just need to breathe a little.
The ship stutters again, only this time, my stomach doesn’t just flip—it revolts.
Please, no.
No. No. No. No.
I push onto my tiptoes and lean over the railing, heaving up what little breakfast I managed to eat on the plane.
Once it starts, I can’t stop. My stomach convulses, and with every wave, it feels worse.
Fuck this.
When there’s nothing left in my stomach, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and try to subtly untangle the hair that’s sticky with my vomit.
Great start.
I take a step back, wavering slightly through dizziness.
“Easy there.”
I feel a hand gently rest on the small of my back, holding me steady. Then I’m offered a white towel, which I accept without thinking. I just need to clean up before I have to see anyone.
My stomach is still churning, my head is still spinning, and I’m seriously considering jumping off the deck, so I never have to see any of these people again.
“Damn, Honeycomb,” the deep voice says, making me freeze instantly. “With all the time you’ve spent on my bike, I thought you’d be used to this kind of motion.”
I close my eyes on a gulp.
I’m dreaming. There’s no way Zach is on the ship. It’s not even possible.
I pull the white towel away from my face and realize there’s a St. Michael’s logo on it.
Yeah, I’m definitely dreaming. There’s no way in hell he’s here.
His fingers press into the small of my back, and when I turn to look at him, I can’t believe my eyes.
“Hey, Honeycomb,” he says with a haphazard smile.
This isn’t real.
I reach forward and try to push him away, disappointed that not only does he not move, but I can feel his hard chest underneath my palms. He’s not a figment of my imagination. He’s here, wearing bumblebee board shorts and white t-shirt that fits perfectly over his sculpted chest.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” The words explode out of me. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
He has the audacity to smile. That devastating, cocky smile that makes me want to simultaneously kiss him and shove him overboard.
He shrugs. “Wanted to get away before preseason starts. Thought a two-week cruise to the Bahamas would be nice.”
“You cannot be serious right now.” I nearly throw the towel back at him, only stopping because I don’t want him to smell the contents of my stomach. “Don’t you dare act like this is a coincidence.”
His smile grows as his brows pull together in awkwardness. “You’re right, it’s not a coincidence.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s fate.”
“Oh, my God.” I cross my arms and roll my eyes. “This is not fate. This is you stalking me.” I push past him even though I still feel queasy and there’s a very real possibility I could throw up on the deck. I don’t care. I need to get away from him. I need space. I need—
“Honey.” His voice follows me as I weave through the crowd of passengers. When I feel his hand brush against my arm, I pull away and quicken my pace. I have no idea where I’m going. I haven’t explored the ship yet, but the farther away I get from him, the better.
I find a door to the rooms and check my key card, room 216, before heading straight for it. Zach doesn’t stop following me. Annoyingly, he’s so fucking big that his long strides eat up the distance I’m trying to put between us.
“Honey, wait.” His hand catches my elbow, which stops me completely. “I’m sorry,” he says from behind.
I yank my arm away and spin to face him. “If you're that sorry, why are you still following me?”
He’s quiet for a second as he raises a hand and scratches the back of his head.
Knew it.
He’s trying to think up an excuse.
“I’m not.” His voice goes up a couple of octaves, leaving him highly unconvincing.
I raise a brow, but before I can say anything back, my stomach rolls again.
“Oh no.”
I lurch forward, hold on to the wall, and brace myself.
Please don’t throw up. Please don’t throw up.
My stomach contracts a few times, only settling after a few minutes have passed.
With my eyes closed, I wipe my mouth with the back of my arm and say, “Please remove your hand from my back, Zach.”
He does. I even hear him take a few tentative steps away.
When I can, I pull myself up and turn to look at him.
“I’m going to head to my room now.” I stand close to the door but think better of it. If Zach knows where I am, there’s no hope of escaping him. I take a step to the side and lean back against a different door.
He lets out an awkward laugh. “I’m, uh, heading to mine too.” He points to the door I’m leaning on. “This is my room. 217.”
My blood runs cold as I look at the plaque on the wall, confirming what I already know.
“Oh, for fuck's sake.” I fumble in my shorts pocket for my room card, my hands shaking from the motion sickness or from rage. Maybe it’s the fact that Zach is here. I don't know anymore.
I finally get the door open and stumble inside, slamming it shut behind me before he can follow.
“I'm sorry, Honeycomb.” His voice is muffled against the wood, and I can imagine the look on his face right now. He's not sorry. He planned this. Someone told him that I was going to be here.
My stomach lurches again, and I make a beeline for the bathroom, barely making it before I'm sick again.
This is a nightmare. An actual nightmare.
I lie back against the marbled vanity and take a shaky breath, feeling the ship rock beneath me. I’ve got to get used to that.
When I manage to stand, I collapse onto the queen-sized bed and stare at the ceiling.
How am I supposed to get over everything when everything is right here?
The room rocks gently beneath me, and every sway feels like the universe is laughing at me.
I came on this trip to breathe, not to be trapped in a floating hotel with my ex-boyfriend in the room next door.
I press the heels of my hands into my eyes, trying to force the tears back where they came from.
This is exactly why I left. Zach doesn’t understand the concept of space or boundaries.
I let out a frustrated groan and sit up too fast, immediately regretting it when the ship tilts again.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, so I pull it out.
Olivia: Have you boarded yet? Tell me everything.
I stare at the message, rereading it as suspicion slowly crawls up my spine. My eyes narrow. Olivia had been way too insistent that I “needed this trip.” She pushed me even when I said I didn’t want to go alone.
Did she—did she know I wouldn’t be alone?
Oh, that sneaky little bitch.
I hit the call on her contact before I can talk myself out of it.
She answers on the second ring. “Honey! How's the—”
“You gave Zach your ticket?” I cut her off, not letting her get away with this.
Silence.
“Liv?”
“Z-Zach? Is he there?” her voice rises with mock surprise.
“Oh, don’t you dare play innocent. I know you were involved. He’s staying in your room.”
“Is he—” she starts before stopping herself. Then she makes this little whiny noise. The same noise she makes when she’s been caught in a lie. I knew it.
“I’m sorry!” she blurts out.
“So you did do it?”
“Yes.” Her voice is quieter now.
“I can’t believe you.” I shake my head, on the edge of tears. “Why would you do that to me?”
“Because you’re miserable, Honey. I’ve only ever seen you smile with Zach, and after everything that went down at the wedding, we all really think you need to work things out. At least talk things through instead of just running all the time.”
“Wait a minute. What do you mean we? Who else is in on it?”
“Uh, not too many people. Just Mike, Madison, Reese, and Tiff. We’re all pro-Zoneycomb.”
“Zoneycomb?”
“It’s your couple nickname. Better than Hack, which was Jamie’s suggestion. Honestly, I will never understand how he managed to bag Tiff after everything.”
“Wait, you’ve been talking about me and Zach with Jamie?”
“Yeah—we kind of have a group chat to make it easier to talk to each other.”
“You've gotta be kidding me?” I mutter under my breath.