chapter seven #2
He stretches his arms toward the ceiling, then locks his fingers and rests them behind his head. “Fine. What are your rules and boundaries besides the ones you’ve already stipulated?”
“I—” My treacherous eyes lock onto his biceps, and I almost choke on my bagel.
“You okay?” he asks, brow raised.
“Yes”—cough—“I’m fine.” I thunk my chest with my fist, then take a sip of my coffee. “You need to knock.”
“What?”
“Knock… before entering the cabin.”
“But I’ll forget.”
“Then try not to. I might be getting changed, and I don’t want you barging in on me.”
“Why not?” He leans forward, picks up his toast, and points it at me. “You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.”
Heat blooms in my cheeks, and I can’t help squirming in my seat. “I’m not ashamed of my body, Riley. I respect it, and that means not flaunting it naked in front of strangers.”
“I wouldn’t exactly say we’re strangers anymore.”
“That’s not the point,” I say, gritting my teeth.
“Okay. Ease up.” He chuckles. “I’ll try to remember to knock.”
“Thank you.”
“Anything else?”
I take another bite and mumble, “Toilet seat down.”
“Why not toilet seat up?”
“Because I can’t sit on the rim of the bowl.”
“And I can’t piss when the seat is down. If I have to lift it, why can’t you put it down?”
I go to drink my coffee again but pause, the side of the mug resting against my lip as I deliberate his rebuttal of how gender biased toilet etiquette can be. But then I remember hygiene trumps all.
“Because it’s unhygienic to leave it up,” I deadpan. “Poo particles.”
He bursts with laughter. “Poo particles?”
“Yes. They become airborne and land on your toothbrush.”
Riley shakes his head but doesn’t argue. “Fine. I’ll put the seat down.” Then he adds, “And the lid, if the poo particles concern you so much.”
I lift my brow, because that’s actually fair. “Good. I will too.”
We eat in silence for a moment, and when he doesn’t say anything else, I ask, “Do you have any rules or boundaries for me?”
“Yeah, stop hogging all the space. I have stuff too and nowhere to put it.”
I wince. “Sorry. I didn’t realize how much room in the closet I’d taken up until I found my very-expensive blouse thrown on my bed.” I smile the kind of smile you smile when you don’t want to smile.
“I didn’t throw it.”
“Looked like you did.”
“I assure you, I didn’t.”
Engaged in an eye-locked showdown, I slowly exhale. Maybe he’s telling the truth. “Do you need more closet space than you currently have?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t finished unpacking.”
“Well, when I get back from the city today, I’ll free up some room just in case.”
He smirks. “Thank you.”
I smirk back. “You’re welcome.”
Riley runs his hand over his beard, studying me.
“What?” I mumble, fearing I’ve smeared cream cheese on my face.
“You feeling better?”
“Huh?”
“You said you felt sick last night.”
“Oh. Yeah. I did.” I divert my gaze. “It came and went. I’m fine now.”
“Good. Because another one of my rules is no puking in the cabin.”
I laugh. “What?”
“No puke. If you need to, do it overboard or somewhere else.”
“I’m not puking overboard. That’s disgusting. It might land on someone below. And anyway, I have anti-nausea meds. I’m not going to puke.”
“Sweet. So are we all sorted then, cabin cop?”
“For now.” I down the last of my coffee, stand, and collect my bag. “If there’s anything else, I’ll let you know.”
He stands too, and murmurs, “I’m sure you will.”
I gift him a sarcastic smile.
“What are your plans for today, cooki—” He cuts himself short and grins at me.
I don’t grin back. “Sightseeing.”
“Me too.”
Despite how annoying he can be, I consider asking if he wants to sightsee together, but he probably doesn’t. Like me, he planned to cruise solo, so I’m guessing he won’t want company.
“Where are you headed to first?” he asks as we make our way out of the restaurant.
“St. Mary’s Basilica.”
“Me too.”
I snap my head at him. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you Catholic?”
“No. I just like cathedrals. I appreciate the architecture and design.”
I stop at the elevator, but Riley turns toward the stairs, so I follow, curious about his answer to the question I want to ask next. “What do you do for a living?”
“Third generation carpenter. I have my own furniture business. I do restorations and build things from scratch.”
“Like what?” I ask, holding onto the handrail as we descend the stairs.
“Chairs, tables, cabinets… one-of-a-kind pieces. You know, furniture that tells a story.”
My steps pause at his lovely words. “Wow! That’s… impressive.”
He smirks. “You sound shocked.”
“No.” I continue down the steps, finding myself eagerly chasing him. “I’m not shocked. I mean, I figured you’d be a laborer of sorts, given your size and build.”
“My size and build?”
I blush. “You’re not exactly Danny DeVito.”
“But?”
We step off the last flight of stairs and head toward the gangway. “No buts. I’m just impressed with how you described what you do, that you want your art to tell a story.”
For the first time since meeting Riley, his entire face lights up. Not with mock humor at my expense, but with genuine joy, and I can’t deny it’s endearing.
“May I have your sailing cards please?” a crew member in charge of letting passengers off the ship asks.
We remove our lanyards for him to scan, and he does just that.
“Ship leaves at five on the dot.” He hands them back. “Don’t be late. The captain waits for no one.”
I recoil. “Really?”
“Yes. Unless you’re on a shore excursion you booked through the ship and your whole group has been held up. We’d either wait, if it won’t be long, or we’d set up transportation for your group to meet us at the next port. Happens more than you think.”
I hang my lanyard around my neck and follow Riley down the ramp and onto the dock. “The ship leaves you behind if you’re late? Holy crap! How awful.”
“Why should three-thousand-plus passengers and crew be delayed from sailing just because some idiot lost track of time?”
“Because said idiot might end up being you or me, by accident. We’d be stranded, and that’s… that’s the stuff of nightmares.”
The pit of my stomach drops, and my knees nearly buckle. What if I’m stuck on land, and Mom is locked in the safe and sets sail without me?
Should I go back and get her? Would they even let me take her off the ship?
“Are you okay? You’re as white as a ghost.” Riley places his hand on my shoulder and gently squeezes, much like he did the night before. “We won’t get stranded, Riles. I promise.” He removes his hand and rotates his wrist. “Look, I’ll set an alarm on my watch.”
Drawing in a breath as I look up at the intimidating vessel, I try to pinpoint our cabin’s location while deliberating whether I should stay or go. I desperately want to see the Titanic exhibit, but I can’t bear the thought of the ship setting sail without me.
“It’ll be fine,” he adds. “Trust me. You can’t spend the entire cruise on the ship for fear of being left behind.”
“I’m not scared of being left behind. I’m scared of leav—” I shake my head. “Never mind. You’re right. It’ll be fine. We’ll be back in plenty of time. I’ll set some alarms too. Keep us on a schedule. I’m good at schedules.”
We continue walking toward the city center, and I gather we are, in fact, sightseeing together, which I’m not mad about. Like he said, if the two of us set alarms and stick together, we’re more likely to make it back on time.
“Schoolteacher?” he asks, pressing the button on the traffic light as we wait to cross the road.
I point to myself. “Me?”
He nods. “You said you’re good at schedules.”
“No. I’m not a teacher.”
“Delivery driver?”
I laugh. “I don’t even have a driver’s license.
No. Guess again.” The last time I probed him to surmise something about me flickers in my mind, and I fear he’ll respond with something along the lines of funeral director or hospice nurse.
“I’m a publisher,” I blurt before he has a chance to answer.
“Well, publishing assistant. I hope to run my own small press one day. That’s why I liked what you said back on the ship…
about your furniture telling stories. I live and breathe stories. ”
“Publisher?” He purses his lips as if impressed. “Have you helped publish any books I might’ve read?”
“You read?”
“Again, Riles—” He side-eyes me. “—you sound shocked.”
We cross the road and head toward a gothic-revival church spire a short distance ahead.
“If I’m going to be completely honest, then yes, I am shocked,” I admit. “But I mean no offense.”
“None taken.”
“It’s just that, sadly, reading is a dying art in an overworked world. No one seems to have time to sit, relax, and read a book from cover to cover anymore. Trust me, if it weren’t my profession, I’d never have the time either.”
“So you’re a workaholic?”
“You could say that.”
“Is that why you’re on the cruise? To take a break?”
“Not exactly.” I divert my gaze to the sidewalk beneath my feet, not wanting to elaborate. “How about you? Why are you cruising?”
“Why not cruise? You only live once, right?”
We turn the corner, St. Mary’s Basilica towering before us, and once again I stop walking, snagged by his words.
“You only live once, Smiley Riley,” Mom said as I sat beside her hospital bed, holding her hand. “So promise me you’ll live it to the fullest. See the world. Meet new people. Fall in love….”
“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” Riley prompts, shielding his eyes from the sun as he looks up.
I find my feet again and step forward, stopping beside him. “Y-Yeah. I love these old churches. I can’t wait to see Westminster Abbey and St. George’s Chapel when we dock in Southampton. Then there’s Notre Dame and Montmartre.”
“You’re doing a day trip to London?”
“Of course. Aren’t you?”
“Yeah. I just haven’t booked anything yet.”
My face scrunches in horror—how unorganized. “You haven’t booked any tours?”
“No.”
“Are you crazy? They’re filling up fast. You’ll miss out. And I got them for us for free! What are you waiting for?”
He runs his hand over his beard, which he seems to do when in contemplation. It’s a cute habit, and it tickles my chest.
“What’s so funny?” he asks.
“Nothing. You coming?”
I walk ahead and enter the church, Riley catching up to me, his heavy footsteps echoing throughout the cathedral together with hushed voices as other people wander around.
Careful not to bump into anyone or anything, I tip my head back, drawn to the arched ceiling and shimmering stained-glass mural.
“It’s so pretty,” I whisper. “Don’t you think?”
When he doesn’t answer, I turn around, finding him bent over a few yards away, caressing a church pew, his hand gliding along the wood, much like I’d do to a Birkin if I had the chance to touch one.
I shuffle closer and murmur, “What are you doing?”
“Admiring the handiwork. These old cathedrals provide some of the best inspiration.”
Huh. I suppose they would.
Leaving him to fondle the furniture, I meander for a while, take a few photos before heading back outside to wait for him, the splendid sunshine equipoising the mild breeze.
“Fancy seeing you here, love.”
My body spasms at the sound of Ben’s voice, and I reluctantly swivel in his direction, faking a smile. “Hello, Ben. Are you here to atone for your sins?”
He stubs out a cigarette with his foot and winks. “After last night, I probably should.”
I shudder.
“Ain’t that right, pretty boy?” he adds, glancing over my shoulder.
“What’s that?” Riley asks as he stops beside me.
“I said, after last night, I should atone for my sins. I was a bad, bad boy. Too many blowjobs.”
Bile almost rises to my throat, and I have the overwhelming urge to gag.
“Dope night. Whitney and Brittany were very friendly. Ménage à trois, if you know what I mean.” He lands a few playful punches on Riley’s arms and abdomen.
So that’s what Riley was doing last night… getting drunk with Ben and doing God knows what with Tittney and Spitney, or whatever their names are.
Charming!
Personally, I’m not a fan of a one-night stand; I simply don’t get the point.
I mean, I get the point of having sex. I like sex, very much, just not with some creep I’ve shared a few drinks with and know nothing about.
I’ve regretfully done it once before, and I promised myself I’d never do it again: the walk of shame the next morning, that violated feeling afterward. No, sir-ee—once was more than enough.
“So where are we off to next?” Ben asks.
We? As in him, Riley, and me? Hell no!
“Okaaay,” I drawl, giving them both a double wave as I back away. “I’m gonna leave you two to discuss whatever it is you’re discussing. Have fun.”
Turning on my heel, I scurry off to explore on my own.