Chapter 27: Gavin
I cling to the rail of the front deck while the Golden Emperor of the Seas climbs one wave, then plunges over it, diving into the trough between swells, salty spray washing over me and threatening to knock me off my feet. Man versus nature. It’s raw and wild, and simpler than dealing with whatever the fuck is going on with me and Angie.
Rolling my head, I try to work the massive kink out of my neck. I should’ve ignored the bed stuff on the couch and climbed right in with her. Slid close behind her and made her mine again.
Except fuck me if I could do it when I saw her lying there. Sleeping, her face was relaxed and peaceful so I let her be. Look at me, actually containing my fucking urges, instead of fucking up. Again.
While we’re climbing the next wave, I risk letting go with one hand to brush hair out of my eyes. It’s plastered to my skin, soaked and sticking. We crest again, rushing down into the next valley. I scream into the storm, letting the wind and salty spray rip away my frustration.
Last night I almost didn’t go back. It would’ve been so easy to let some other gold-digger take me back to their room to fuck away my sorrows. Except I can’t stop thinking about her, and it drives me crazy. Her face when I accused her, her eyes when she walked away from me in the bar, her mouth stretched wide in ecstasy as my cock slid into her the first time.
She’s got a fucking free ride to Stanford, for Christ’s sake. And she actually wants to go. With that kind of drive, why the hell would she want a baby? And what does she need me for? It doesn’t fit, but it’s a lot easier to be suspicious than it is to open myself up to a lifetime of the shit my dad’s ex-wives throw at him.
But what if I fucked up? It’s not like I didn’t pack enough condoms to keep her happy until long after the cruise is over. I didn’t ask, and it pisses me off that this mess is as much my fault as hers. I hate fucking up.
What if Angie’s exactly what she looks like? A girl book-smart enough to get into med school, but naive enough to date a drugged up loser and only see the best in him. And maybe even worse, trust an asshole like me. What is it my anger management counsellor used to say? Gavin, you’re projecting. You need to let it go. Dr. Meriam’s voice sounds in my head like she’s standing right next to me. If she is, I hope she’s as fucking soaked as I am.
Everything brings me back to Angie.
Except my feet. It’s not like she’ll give me the fucking time of day now, even if I tried. But I want to see her. Touch her. Forget the last day and get back to what we had the other night. After we got married. I laugh, and spit out the mouthful of rain that comes with it. I’ve done some crazy shit, but nothing that compares to this trip.
Fuck, we had so much fun before this mess. I did at least. The teasing, the war of the words. All that delicious tension. Angie loved it too. She can’t tell me she didn’t. I carried her to bed that night, and when we finally came together it was fucking explosive. She rode my cock like it was made for her, and just thinking about it makes me hard.
A wave catches me full in the face, taking my breath away. It’s getting rougher out here. I love the storm, but I’m not fucking stupid. It’s time to get back inside before I get washed overboard. That’d be a shitty end to this trip. I wait for the next dip, then as soon as the spray passes me, I move, holding on to anything I can find as I go.
Which is a pain in the ass with a hardon. Shit. Even out in the storm, I can’t clear my head of Angie. I hear her voice so clearly over the thrum of the waves that it’s almost like she’s really out here.
“Help!”
Wait a fucking minute.
Chapter 28: Angie
I wake up just like I went to bed. Alone.
In the front room, the blankets are half on the couch and half on the floor. I try to pretend it doesn’t matter, but knowing he was here last night makes me feel a little better. Only a little though, because he’s gone again, and he never said a word. Did he check on me? Did he even care?
The floor heaves beneath my feet and I grab the wall for support. My stomach lurches right along with it, cutting off my train of thought. I remember that yesterday the lower levels felt more stable, so I head down to get something to eat and hopefully settle my stomach. I really hope I’m just seasick.
Something about riding the elevator in this weather terrifies me, so I take the stairs, clinging to the handrails all the way down. I’m starting to get why Mom hates boats. I thought ships this big were supposed to be pretty stable, but I guess when the weather gets bad enough, all bets are off. Still, just being out of the room and having a focus is helping. I’m already less likely to empty my stomach in the stairwell.