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.
I reach the mid-decks, and the rocking’s a lot less pronounced. I’m just passing a porthole when movement draws my attention out in the rain. A flash of color moving down the deck towards the bow. Someone’s out there in this weather? I squint, trying to make out the shape. There is someone out there, a faint shadow weaving unsteadily away, but it looks like a dress fluttering in the wind, and... a walker? Mabel? Where’s Joyce?
Panic crushes what’s left of my seasickness. I need to help her, or whoever that is. There’s no way she’s getting back on her own, and I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to her because I didn’t act fast enough. Well, it’s not going to happen. I’m going out there.
I brace against the heavy door, pushing it open with effort. I can barely do it when the weather’s good. With the wind against me, I almost don’t manage. How did Mabel get out there? It doesn’t make sense, but that doesn’t matter right now. Stepping out into the driving rain, I pull up the hood on my sweatshirt, only to have it ripped right back off by the wind. After a couple tries, I give up. Everything’s soaked already, anyway.
Holding on to anything I can find, I make my way towards the staggering figure, but it’s moving too fast. It’s the wind, blowing her away. Her wheels must be sliding on the wet deck. Jesus. I try to move faster without losing control myself. Bending low, I half run along the rail.
She seems impossibly far away.
Shit, shit, shit.
I’ll have to risk it. For a moment, I squeeze my eyes shut and draw a deep breath, then I let go, charging after her while the deck tips scarily beneath me. Whenever I can, I grab onto something to steady myself, but even then I almost go down a couple of times.
I’m getting closer, but as if in slow motion, I watch her finally lose control and fall. The metallic crash of her walker is barely audible through the storm. Steeling myself, I rush forward as quickly as I can, adrenaline giving me strength.