Chapter 19 #2
“Yes! I mean, no! Sorry.” Dear god. I take a breath. “Yes, everything’s okay. No, I’m not distracted. It’s just…spotty reception.”
“Listen, Ms. Miller.” His tone hardens, and I know he’s losing his patience with me. “You know this assignment is important to me. I made that very clear, did I not?”
“Yes. Very clear, sir.” I close my eyes to better focus. “Iceland has been amazing. I’ve been thinking of ways to creatively incorporate each of the locations into the article, but there’re so many incredible sites to feature that it’s going to be difficult to narrow down the content and—”
“That’s all well and good,” Calvin interrupts. “But I’m inquiring about Benjamin Carter. Any luck on the recruitment front? Your response to my email was lacking on details, to say the least.”
I bite back my frustration because that’s what I do. “Uh, about that…”
I’m not sure what to say here. I can’t very well tell Calvin Cramer III that I spent half the night with his star recruit’s head between my thighs.
And despite pitching the idea of working at Around the Globe to Ben again the other night—and putting aside the fact that I truly do believe it might be good for him to have some stability in his life—continuing to press the issue, especially after last night, feels disingenuous at best, downright slimy, if I’m honest.
“Sir, the impression I get from Benjamin”—the formal name feels foreign on my tongue—“is that he enjoys his freelance lifestyle. Maybe the most we can hope for is that he agrees to do more assignments for Around the Globe in the future without being a full-time employee contractually obligated to only us. I actually think there’s a strong possibility of that happening if—”
“No.”
No? Uh…“Excuse me?”
“Unacceptable,” Calvin reiterates. “Ms. Miller, I’m giving you a real opportunity here. I thought you wanted your shot at the big leagues.”
“I did. I do,” I say, thrown.
“Then I’m going to be one hundred percent honest with you right now.
” From his sharp tone, I don’t think I want one hundred percent honesty.
Perhaps I can only handle sixty percent honesty at best. Maybe fifty-five.
“People don’t subscribe to Around the Globe for the articles.
They subscribe for the photos. Photos that take them to a place far away from the monotony of daily life.
Our subscribership has plummeted the past fiscal year, and we need a name like Benjamin Carter to turn things around.
I thought you of all people could handle this. ”
Well, it’s officially confirmed. This was never about my writing.
Not even a little bit. Calvin chose me only because I’m the affable, party planning, No Worries!
, go-to office girl who always has a smile on her face and never pushes back.
I’m willing to bet, regardless of Suki’s broken ankle—if that’s even real—that I’m the only one Calvin would ask to do this.
He wouldn’t push this “recruitment” off on one of the other Internationals because he respects them, a sentiment he clearly lacks when it comes to me.
“I have to go,” I hear myself saying. “I’m about to miss my whale-watching excursion.”
“Try not to take what I said personally,” Calvin says, calmer now, and I disguise the audible scoff that rises from my throat with a cough.
“I firmly believe Benjamin wouldn’t have taken this assignment after all this time if he wasn’t somewhat interested.
Find out what that interest is and exploit it. See you stateside.”
Calvin ends the call before I say anything else, which is fine because I’m speechless.
“Hey, you.” Ben startles me as he wraps his arms around me from behind. Freshly showered and wearing only a towel, his skin is warm and damp against the back of my borrowed T-shirt. “You feel tense. What was that about?”
I should tell him the truth. All of it. But if I tell him now, he’ll question why I didn’t tell him sooner. Last night was the best night of my life, and I want to hold on to that feeling for as long as I can. Besides, I’m an adult who is perfectly capable of handling Calvin on my own. I think.
“Nothing important,” I lie. “We have to hurry or we’ll miss our boat.” I spin out of Ben’s arms and sprint for the stairs.
* * *
Interesting fact about Iceland: The country has the best way to control speeding I’ve ever seen.
There aren’t police cars waiting on the side of the road to pull over naughty offenders, at least not that I’ve observed.
Instead, they utilize roadside radars, similar to the ones in the States, but instead of flashing the speed back at the driver, these light up with either a smiley face (for those law-abiders who drive the correct speed) or a sad little frowny face (for those who like to live life on the edge).
When the sad face flashes at us, I feel as if I’ve disappointed every person I’ve ever known—and I’m not even the one driving. It’s a mind game for sure, and the guilt is real.
“That’s our third frowny face in a row,” I chastise Ben. “Please slow down a little.”
He shoots me a sidelong glance from the driver’s seat. “I’m barely going ten over and there’s no one else on this road. We’re okay. I wouldn’t risk anything happening to you.”
“But those faces are so sad.”
“You know they aren’t real, right?”
“Yes, I know that.” Obviously. “But I still feel like we’re hurting their feelings.”
“You’re adorable.”
“Do you remember Ms. Bradford’s first-grade class and how she graded our letter-practice pages with either a happy face or a frowny face stamp? That’s what those speeding radars remind me of.”
“I do remember those.” Even from the side I can tell Ben’s eyes light up at the memory.
And it’s this—the history between us that can’t be replicated, a tie that binds us together no matter the years and distance we’ve spent apart—that proves to me, without a doubt, I’ll never love anyone the way I love Ben. But like I learned before, loving Ben Carter doesn’t mean I get to keep him.
“I struggled with my lowercase q’s for the longest time,” he says with a little laugh. “I collected a slew of those frowny faces.”
“To be fair, the lowercase q is challenging.” We hit a bump in the road, and I bounce in my seat. I shoot Ben another disapproving scowl, and he eases off the gas pedal. “I got one once. It was traumatizing.”
“One?” he asks, incredulous. “You only got one the entire year?”
“Yep. Not because of my letter work but because Ms. Bradford said I rushed through it. She told me there was no need to always be the first one finished. That showing off wasn’t a good look.”
“That seems unfair.”
I shrug. “From that point on I made sure to wait until at least one other person turned in their work before I did so I didn’t stand out. Funny thing though, she never said that to Logan Fletcher, who always turned his stuff in first once I stopped.”
Another radar looms ahead, and this time, we get a happy face of approval as we approach. I smile out the window at it like it’s a real person.
“Hey, Ems,” Ben says softly. “Fuck Logan Fletcher.”
My smile widens. I turn back to Ben and add, “And fuck Ms. Bradford, too.”
* * *
Húsavík is a darling Icelandic town situated on Skjálfandi bay and known for its whale-watching excursions.
We hurry through the harbor and down a set of stairs to the bustling dock, fishermen and tour guides already hard at work by midmorning.
In a shocking turn of events, the sky above is clear and blue—at least for now, in fourteen more seconds, who knows—and I turn back to Ben to comment on our good fortune.
Until I notice Ben’s expression is far from enthusiastic.
I come to an abrupt halt in the middle of the dock. “Hey, you okay?”
Up close his complexion is pallid, sweat dampening his hairline. “Uh, you know how I don’t like planes?”
“Yeah…”
“So, I don’t really care for boats, either.”
His gaze is cast somewhere over my shoulder, the reflection of the harbor glistening in his wary eyes.
“Are you afraid of all methods of transportation?”
His eyes flick back to mine, narrowed and unamused. “Only ones that don’t take place on the actual fucking ground.”
“Well.” I look over my shoulder at the bay, the surface of the water rippling in the sunlight. “Technically, there will be ground beneath us, it’s just below all that water.”
I glance back to see Ben grip his stomach and squeeze his eyes closed. “That’s not helping, Ems.”
“Shit! Sorry!” A grimace twists my lips at my unfortunate use of words. “I suppose I can see why that’s not helpful.” As gently as possible, I add, “Uh, should you maybe have mentioned this before we arrived?”
“Probably yes. But I packed some motion sickness meds and figured I’d power through.”
“Oh, okay, well, that’ll help, right?”
Ben shrugs, opening his eyes and blowing out a long breath. “Maybe if I’d remembered to take them.”
“You forgot?”
“I was a little distracted with everything that happened last night and then rushing to get out the door this morning.”
People shuffle around us as we stand in the middle of the dock, very much being those people who block the pathway. “Okay, it’s fine. We don’t have to do this. We’ll just pull another ‘Fuck the itinerary’ and skip it.”
Peering past me again, Ben seems to take my suggestion under consideration, but before he can respond, a cheerful American accent says, “Good morning, friends! Are you two perhaps Benjamin Carter and Mona Miller of Around the Globe?”
I turn my attention to a thirtysomething woman with strawberry blonde hair and a dusting of freckles scattered over both cheeks, clad in a heavy jumpsuit similar to the ones we wore snowmobiling.
“I’m Cassandra with Húsavík Sailing Adventures,” she continues.
“I’ll be your tour guide today. We’ve got the entire boat reserved just for you two!
” She pauses. “Assuming you are Benjamin Carter and Mona Miller.”
“Yes! Sorry,” I say. “That’s us. Did you say the entire boat is reserved?”