15. Not So Shore of Myself #2
Swallowing my pride, I cross to the stairs and jog down them, stopping before his door. I raise my hand to knock but pause. Damn it, why am I so indecisive? I imagine Louise with her stern expression and tight frown. What’s the point in wanting something if I’m not willing to try?
Planting my feet, I take a deep breath and knock. There’s a long beat of silence, and I’m starting to wonder if he’s not there, or if maybe he knows it’s me purely by the rhythm of my knock and refuses to answer, when finally, I hear a muffled, “Come in.”
I open the door slowly, blinking through the haze.
He’s had the tobacco lit for so long, there’s a thick cloud of smoke lingering in the air.
I taste it on my tongue, feel it burning a path down to my lungs.
Coughing, I swivel to find Captain Night leaning against the windows in the rear, running a hand over his stubble.
“Captain,” I start hesitantly as I close the door behind me, “is everything okay?”
His hand stills on his jaw, and slowly he turns to me, his head tilting as he takes me in. It’s the first time in two days that he’s looked at me, really looked at me, and I fidget with my hands, unsure of what to do or what to say.
“What do you want?” His tone is flat, his face expressionless. Is he worried? Does it have to do with the lead?
“I just thought…” I stop, uncertain of where I was going.
“I’m worried, I think?” He doesn’t move, so I take a step toward him.
“I thought we had … in the tavern…” I pinch the bridge of my nose.
I don’t even know how to word this. Puffing out my cheeks, I inch closer.
“I really enjoyed our time in the tavern, and I thought you did, too, but you’ve been …
distant.” Oh god, I’m doing a terrible job of articulating this.
He’s silent for a moment, unmoved. I take another tentative step toward him, and another, until I’m standing beside his desk.
I drum my fingers along the wood before curling my hands into fists at my sides, forcing myself not to move.
Finally, he shifts toward me, and there’s something there, something in the way he’s watching me that softens the lines around his face.
“Have you ever been in a position of power, Laszlo?” he asks. His voice is steady, unshakable.
“No, not particularly,” I say. “I organized a few … events over the years, but that’s the extent of my leadership skills.”
He takes a step toward me, one thumb hooked in his belt, the other loose at his side. “When you’re the captain of a ship and crew, there are certain expectations.”
“I know.”
He strides the rest of the distance, and I shrink back out of instinct. He takes up so much space, whether he means to or not. He stops just before me, and though his tone is commanding and he holds himself like the weight of the world rests on his shoulders, his voice is soft. Considerate.
“I cannot … feel for someone on my crew. I must treat the members of my crew fairly. If I like you more than the rest, if I care for you, what’s to say I won’t act irrationally if you are put in danger? Or that I won’t give you better treatment, or more rations than the others?”
I can hardly breathe, this heavy, invisible weight on my chest as I search his face.
“You would deny yourself happiness for the sake of your crew?” I ask.
He smiles sadly. “If it is the only way, then yes.”
Though I want to understand where he’s coming from, I can’t.
This isn’t the kind of workplace I’m particularly familiar with—this is a ship.
And didn’t he tell me in his own words that they take to the sea to free themselves of the constraints on land?
This crew is made up of adults, and surely the captain of this vessel should be able to live the way he wants to, so long as it doesn’t endanger the people here.
Besides, I won’t let that happen; I’ll never put him in a position where he’ll have to choose. But if it’s easier, then perhaps …
“Captain Night,” I start, closing the gap between us until we are chest to chest. Standing this close to him makes my pulse speed, but I reach for his hand, running my fingers across his palm.
“I know it’s scary to open up like this, to trust someone.
But I promise, the rest of the crew … they don’t have to know if that’s what you need to say yes.
This is between you and me … and isn’t it worse to be alone? ”
“I hate being alone,” he admits quietly.
I smile. “Me too. So maybe…”
“We could not be alone together?” he asks.
“It could be nice—”
Before I even have a chance to finish, his hands are gliding through my hair and pulling me close.
God, his hands. He hasn’t even kissed me yet, and I’m falling apart beneath his touch, groaning at the way we seem to fit together when he grips me just so, as if he’s terrified that I’ll unravel like a spool of yarn.
I trip backward as he kisses me, crashing his lips against mine with a ferocity I didn’t know he even possessed, and the sudden movement sends me slamming back into his desk with a gasp that he swallows down.