chapter twelve
RILEY
“Ow! It stings,” Brittany whines.
I wade closer and pry her hand away from her face. “Let me see.”
“Is it bad?” she asks, her spidey lashes damp, the skin around her eye angry and red.
Wincing, I dip my head and gently wipe the pad of my thumb over her eyelid, when her eyelashes break free and stick to my hand.
I stare at it. Da fuck? “Uh… your eyelashes just came off.”
She blinks her good eye and collects the creepy thing from my fingertip. “They’re fake.”
“Fake?”
“Yes, they’re false lashes. They’re glued on.” She glares over my shoulder at Riles. “Or they’re supposed to be.”
I try to make sense of gluing something to your eyelid, when Riles swims to a stop by my side.
“Are you okay?” she asks. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“I’m coming, princess!” Ben hollers like an idiot, sending a tidal wave crashing into us as he dives forward and scoops Brittany into his arms. “I’ve got you.”
She groans and slaps his chest. “Put me down!”
“You okay, Brit?” Whitney calls from her lounge chair as she flips a page of her magazine.
“No. I can’t see.”
“You should probably see the nurse,” Riles says, her thumbnail clamped between her teeth.
“You think?” Brittany flaps her hands like a spasming bird. “Can you take me, Riley?”
“Sure,” Riles says. “It’s the least I can d—”
“Not you,” she growls, glaring one-eyed at Riles before pointing at me, “him. You’ve done enough.”
“Me?” Riles rears back. “It was an accident.”
“I doubt that. You aimed for my head.”
“I did not!”
“You did!”
I put myself between them before all hell breaks loose. “I’ll take you to the med center, Brittany.”
“Thank you! Can we please go now? It’s stinging so bad.”
I sigh. “Sure.”
“You’ll have to guide me,” she says, looping her arm beneath mine. “I can’t see.”
I’m no anatomist, but when you have two eyes and one of them is closed, you can still see perfectly fine. But I don’t argue my accurate point, instead guiding her out of the pool and wrapping my towel around her shoulders.
“Where are you going?” Whitney calls out.
“Riley’s taking me to see the nurse.”
“Want me to come?”
“No. You stay.”
“’Kay.” Whitney blows her a kiss. “Love you.”
Sniffling, Brittany rests her head on my shoulder. “Thank you.”
I fake a sliver of sympathy. “No sweat.”
Poppy broke her finger in a doorjamb when she was four, and she didn’t milk the situation as much as Brittany currently is, so to say her woe-is-me acting is grossly over the top would be an understatement. But I’m not a jerk, so I reluctantly play along.
“We’ll be back soon,” I say to Riles, Ben, and an unfazed Whitney, as Brittany whines again.
God, help me!
After taking Brittany to the med center—a claustrophobic dungeon I do not want to visit ever again—and then escorting her to her room at her request, I make my way back to the pool, but neither Riles, Ben, nor Whitney are there.
So I head to the cabin, hoping Riles will be working, or at the very least catching up on the sleep I keep depriving her of.
Those damn expensive AirPods better work, because even though I said I’d move cabins if they don’t, I’m no longer confident I can uphold my end of the bargain, especially after spending so much time below sea level in the medical center.
I sure as shit wouldn’t cope, the air down there thin and suffocating, the walls and ceiling a constant crushing threat.
Knocking on the bathroom door before entering—just in case Riles’s in there—after she doesn’t answer, I step inside, take a piss, and have a quick shower, tangling myself in her bathing suit, which is hanging to dry on a cord above my head.
What the fuck?
The glue-like material sticks to the side of my face, so I wrestle with it, almost slipping and falling on my ass before eventually smacking the suit to the floor and kicking it aside.
Jesus! Why she can’t hang it out on the balcony is beyond me.
It’ll dry faster out there and be out of my damn way.
But since Roni constantly badgers me over being a messy slob, I collect the bathing suit and my shorts and drape them over the chair outside, pleased with my efforts.
And then I close the balcony door behind me and head to the closet for my clothes.
The safe inside is open, and wondering what Riles stores in there, apart from her passport and maybe some jewelry, I bend over to get a better look, but it’s empty.
Weird!
“Why would she take her passport out?” I mutter to myself. “It’s a sea day.”
Maybe she has more than one and isn’t who she says she is?
I shake my head. “Nah, that’s absurd.” Riles isn’t a criminal; I’m sure of it.
Then again, she was a little wacky during trivia.
Dismissing my paranoia, I decide I should store my passport in the safe as well, because it’s the smart thing to do, so I retrieve it from my bedside drawer, place it inside, and close the door, the mechanism locking and beeping a few times. I press some buttons, but it doesn’t open.
Shit! I don’t know the passcode.
Making a mental note to ask her what it is when I see her, I head out of the cabin, wandering around aimlessly for hours, Riles nowhere to be seen.
A little bored, I grab a pizza, drink a few beers at the Lagoon Bar, listen to some live music, and eventually return to the room where she’s fast asleep—AirPods firmly secured in her ears.
Fist-pumping the air, I mouth a silent, “Fuck yeah!”
Sweet dreams, Riles.
The next morning, I wake without having a pillow repeatedly slammed against my head, which is marvelous.
I yawn, sit upright, and stretch, surprised to find Riles still sleeping. Relief and excitement sizzle through my well-rested body, so I sweep my covers aside and scoot my ass to the edge of my bed, stealthily creeping toward her like the Pink Panther.
Her chocolate hair is splayed in a mess, her mouth slightly open, her wrist resting against her forehead.
I graze my hand over my beard, tempted to sit on the edge of her bed and stare at her.
She’s undeniably beautiful and has a killer body, especially in a bathing suit.
Damn, I almost drowned when she removed her white shirt thing by the pool.
My stupid throat wouldn’t work, my limbs, lungs, and brain suddenly useless.
I honestly felt like a teenage boy again.
Smiling, because I liked my teenage self and how I felt back then—young, dumb, and full of…
hormones—I know what I’m feeling now isn’t as simple as that.
I’m no longer a boy; I’m a man. A man who has been through his fair share of emotional turmoil.
A man who delves below the surface in search of what he’s looking for.
A man who isn’t simply pussy-whipped by a stunning body in a bathing suit.
I’m more than that. I want more than that.
For so long, I haven’t been able to see the fun in things, my thoughts murky, cynical, and destructive.
Never light, never comical. When I’m with Riles though, she has an uncanny way of reminding me that life isn’t all doom, gloom, and infidelity.
She makes me laugh when I usually wouldn’t, play when I’d resort to fighting.
She makes me want to flirt… with her.
Murmuring something that sounds like “Momma,” Riles unconsciously seeks out her stuffed dog, hugging it to her chest. It’s adorable and reminds me of Poppy when I carry her to her room after her milk roofieing. The same sweetness and innocence—a calm purity that comes with peaceful slumber.
I exhale my relief and thank God the AirPods appear to have worked, although I can’t be entirely sure until she wakes and turns into the Hulk or not.
I should get her a coffee, just in case!
Ever the fan of a back-up plan, I quietly leave the cabin, make my way to the café, order us coffees, and return as quickly as possible to use hers as a peace offering.
Gently clicking the door shut, I pause at the daylight streaming through the open curtains, her bed sheets ruffled… and empty.
Shit! Here goes nothing.
“Is that you, Riley?” she calls out from the bathroom.
Preparing for an attack, I hold up both paper cups as a deterrence, but her non-demonic, pleasant tone relaxes my posture, and I let out the breath I sucked in for dear life. “Yeah. I have coffee.”
The bathroom door flies open, nearly smacking me in the nose.
“You do?” she gasps, peeking her beanie-covered head out. “Oh my God! You’re a lifesaver.”
Clear goop dots her face, so I hand over her cup, then step back. “What’s that?”
“What?”
“On your face.”
She ducks back inside the bathroom to check her reflection, then pokes her head out again, laughing. “Moisturizer.”
“Looks like a jellyfish ejaculated on you.”
“Riley!” She laughs. “That’s disgusting!”
Quickly rubbing in the semen-like substance, she takes a long sip of her drink before moaning her delight.
“How’d you sleep?” I ask, my chest tight with anticipation for her answer.
“Like a baby! That app is amazing. Thank you.”
“Good to hear.”
Wanting to tap dance with my utter relief and joy, even though I can’t tap dance to save my life, I keep my cool instead and pick up the daily newsletter Riles has already collected from outside our door.
We visit Qaqortoq, Greenland today, a tiny seaside village set within a system of fjords.
I’ve never been to Greenland—never set foot in Europe—so I’m looking forward to the Viking-inspired carvings and Nordic architecture.
“Is it cold outside?” she calls out. “The captain announced the temperature has dropped.”
“I don’t know. I’ll check.” Opening the balcony door, a blast of fresh air all but freezes my balls, so I immediately close it again. “Yes.”
“Isn’t it supposed to be summer in Greenland?”
“Their summer isn’t like our summer, Riles.”
“You’re right. I suppose it wouldn’t be.”
Knowing I’ll need a jacket, I make my way to the closet, when she says, “Have you seen my bathing suit? I hung it in here to dry yesterday.”
“I moved it out onto the balcony with mine to dry faster.”
“You did what?”