Becoming His (49 page)

“I love you too, Ace.”

I wrap my arms around her and squeeze tight. “I love you too.”

K
endall and I are tucked in our bed when Shelby arrives. It’s sometime in the early morning based on the glow from our window, but our alarm clock seems to have been unplugged so I have no idea what time it is. I’ve been awake most of the night missing Max and dying of heat. Occasionally I’m tired enough that I can almost feel Max beside me, hear his soft breathing against my neck, but Kendall moves and wiggles so much my delusions don’t last long. I’d stolen one of his T-shirts to sleep in. The warm scent is comforting and familiar, but also serves to make me more homesick.

I don’t know how much time passes from the time I finally fall asleep to the time I wake up again, but it feels like it’s only been a couple of hours. My entire body is sticky with heat. I lift my head to look at Kendall and Shelby who are both still asleep.

Carefully crawling over Kendall, I head to the restroom. I’m engulfed with darkness as the door swings shut behind me, sending a small chill of terror through me. I reach for the door again and push it open. The sunshine reveals the light switch that I flip several times before accepting it’s not turning on.

I go to my bag and hastily pull on clothes before I check the time on my phone charging on the nightstand.

The light indicating it’s plugged in isn’t on. My eyes and fingers follow my power cord to the base of the lamp and see it’s securely in place. I reach for the lamp, flipping the switch twice and then dropping to the cord of the alarm clock when it doesn’t turn on, still wanting something to disprove what’s quickly gone from a suspicion into a realization. It’s plugged in behind the night stand along with the lamp. A long sigh has my shoulders sagging.

I leave Kendall and Shelby to sleep and grab a key to find answers. The hall lights aren’t glowing, just the rope lights along the ceiling. I see a forest green polo shirt and khakis up ahead and rush to the crew member.

I can tell by the guy’s expression that he was hoping to go unnoticed rather than ambushed, but he paints a fake smile on his face and offers me a cheery good morning. I quickly notice that he looks as exhausted as I feel.

“Did the entire ship lose power?” I ask, skipping pleasantries.

His forced smile dims, and I don’t know if it’s because he realizes all hell is about to break loose, or he’s like me and isn’t real big on being surrounded by nothing but miles and miles of endless ocean filled with fish, sharks, and eels.

“Temporarily, yes.”

“Temporarily?” My pulse begins racing, realizing I should never board another boat for the rest of my life. I’m cursed.

“Yes, they’re working on it right now, but there’s no need to panic. Just don’t flush the toilets or use running water at this time.” He turns to leave as his words sink in, and I grab his elbow pulling him back.

My head shakes and my eyes squint with thought. “If this is temporary, shouldn’t it be fine? Aren’t there reservoirs?” I see the flicker of fear cross his face. It’s not like my fear; his fear is of me I realize as his eyes dance around to ensure I’m not creating a scene.

My hand falls to my side as my head falls back and a loud groan escapes my mouth.

“You should probably head up to the deck. I’d advise you to stake out some shaded spots before everyone starts getting up.” With those sage words of wisdom he disappears.

After waking Kendall and Shelby, who are disgustingly optimistic, feeling certain this will be a short-term issue, we lock our bags in the room and head to the dining hall which is starting to buzz with people. Battery-powered lanterns create muted lighting as everyone files around aimlessly, looking both confused and concerned.

“Welcome! Good morning! We hope you all slept well! My name is Jennifer. I just wanted to let you all know that I spoke with the captain a short while ago …”

My attention is diverted to two girls in crew attire whispering nearby. I casually move a little closer to overhear them discussing how the kitchen is putting out all of the cheese, milk and fruit, along with anything else that doesn’t have to be cooked and needs to remain refrigerated and how this is a bad sign.

I pull out my phone which thankfully has a full battery and still shows reception. It’s only seven; I can survive a day without power.

I grab a bagel and opt for orange juice, knowing that the power has been out for several hours and seek Kendall and Shelby to find them eating crab cakes and mimosas.

“You guys shouldn’t eat those. The power’s been off for a while,” I say, taking a seat next to Kendall.

“They wouldn’t offer them if there was a chance they’d gone bad,” Shelby insists as she bites into another.

W
e spend the rest of the morning with the other cruise goers up on deck where we’ve been instructed to wear life jackets—another sign that seems alarming to me. Most everyone is drowning their concerns in alcohol that the cruise employees seem to be anxiously handing out for free; and I have the suspicion it’s to distract us.

When my phone vibrates shortly after three, I’m relieved to know I still have service. I look down to see that I have a dozen messages and realize we’re dancing on another invisible barrier here out at sea.

Seven of the messages are from Max, the others from my parents, Abby, and Wes. Initially I assume that they’ve heard that we’re stuck out here, but after reading them I realize they’re oblivious; they’re all just asking how we’re doing and how things are going.

I send a message to Max and my dad:

Me: No need to panic, but we’ve lost power, so we’re floating …

Max responds immediately.

Max: Wut about the generators? R there NE ships near?

Followed by Dad:

Dad: Aren’t the generators working?

I feel relieved and a bit silly to read this.
Of course, generators
! I’m sure they’re trying to repair the main engine, and if they can’t get it working, they’ll flip on the generators.

My relief is interrupted by the horrible sounds of someone retching. I don’t know why I look when I know what’s happening, but I do and see a guy leaning over the railing and decide maybe it’s time I find one of these drinks that they’re so anxious to hand out.

They don’t even ask to see my fake ID. I sit in my lounge chair beside Kendall, who’s busy sunbathing, and drink my warm beer. I don’t like cold beer, warm beer is even worse, but I’m really hoping that by the time I see the bottom I’ll feel a little less edgy.

I’m not even halfway through my beer when Kendall bolts upright and sprints to the side of the boat and throws up over the rail.

Welcome to Hell.

I set my bottle down and hurry over to her and grip her hair as she empties the contents of her stomach into the ocean. Focusing on my Feisty Flamingo pink nails, I tell myself everything is going to be fine and they’ll kick on the generators soon.

T
wo hours later Kendall and Shelby take turns heaving overboard, along with most of the other passengers. Many have not made it to the edge, covering several areas of the deck in puddles of vomit. The stench from both the vomit and the bathrooms quickly becomes potent with the heat from the afternoon sun.

I drink two more beers to try and calm myself down as I face the reality that the generators aren’t working either. There’s no way they’d allow this to go on for so long if there was an alternative; but no one with answers is anywhere to be found. The crew members handing out drinks look my age or younger, and they flinch every time someone approaches them.

I’ve lost signal on my phone and turn it off to preserve battery life as they start distributing pillows and instructing us all to stay above deck for our own safety and comfort.

I don’t even bother telling Kendall and Shelby they should’ve listened to my warning on the crab cakes. They’re both miserably hot and feeling awful. Instead, I assure them they should start feeling better soon and give them bottles of water that are as warm as a bath to drink.

Sleep is an elusive promise as I try to offer support to a slew of sick passengers, being one of the few that turned down the crab cakes this morning.

W
e arrive home from our disastrous spring break two days early, and with an extra flight from Texas to San Diego. It’s after midnight and we all feel a common sense of exhaustion, sun-sickness, dirty, and hungry. I want nothing more than to shower the last three days off and climb in bed, but my need to see Max is even greater.

My hot shower feels incredible, and feeling clean for the first time in days is even better. I send Kendall a quick text as I dress, offering her a ride, and gather some things together to bring over to Max’s.

Thirty minutes later Kendall and I are in my car. She looks beat and doesn’t bother speaking as we make our way to their house.

“Hey!” Landon greets us with a grin that falters when we quietly mumble our replies.

Jameson enters from the kitchen and gives a wistful smile to Kendall as he makes his way to her and wraps her in his arms.

“I want to go to bed,” she murmurs into his shoulder.

Jameson nods and leads them down the hall as the front door opens. I turn to see Max holding a couple of brown bags that are bleeding with grease.

“Hey, babe, sorry I’m late. I just wanted to make sure you guys had something to eat.”

My bag falls to the floor as I go to wrap my arms around him. “You’re the best.”

Max presses a kiss to my temple and I feel his smile against my skin. “Where’s Kendall?”

“She went to bed. We’re tired.”

The three of us sprawl out on the couch and dig into the bags of street tacos. Food has never tasted so good.

“I guess the bonus is that you got really tan.” Landon smiles hopefully at me.

“Forget the tan. The last three days were hell. I don’t want to discuss a silver lining right now.” I tuck myself into Max’s side and fall asleep within seconds, feeling complete and relaxed.

M
ax’s phone ringing wakes us both up the following morning. I feel like I could sleep another five days.

I hear Max grunt a greeting into the phone as his arm snakes around my waist and pulls me closer to him, making me groan in protest as I hear Wes’s happy tone on the other end inviting Max to go hang out.

“No, not today. Sorry, dude, I’m hanging out with Ace today, or the Venezuelan posing as my girlfriend.” He chuckles at his own joke, and I glare at him before lifting the duvet over my head and snuggling closer to his warmth.

As Max wraps up his call with Wes there’s a loud knocking on the door, earning another groan from me as I pull the duvet off and glare toward it.

“Wakey, wakey!” Jameson calls, opening the door before either of us grant him permission. “Hey, get your lazy asses out of bed. We’re going to breakfast.”

Max laughs an acceptance as I scrub at my eyes, trying to will the sleep from them.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to eat a crab cake again.” Kendall groans as we pour over our menus.

“You and me both,” I mutter.

“That’s alright. I haven’t been able to touch seafood in over a year,” Jameson shares. I watch him with mild interest as he fishes an ice cube out of his water.

“So only a couple of months left until summer. What are we going to do?” Landon asks, throwing a sugar packet at Jameson in retaliation for flicking the ice cube at him.

“Ace is going to need to hide.” Kendall turns her eyes to me. “Mom is going to freak out that you still haven’t declared a major. She was a little crazed when you decided to take that poetry course.” I feel the daunting wave of the future roll over us as I shoot her a look to shut up. The last thing I want to discuss this morning is my lack of a future plan.

“Why don’t you just move in too?” Jameson suggests.

I feel my eyebrows shoot to my hairline as I look at him dumbfounded. The sleepiness that’s been lingering over me like a shadow instantly vaporizes. I turn to see Max staring at me with a calculated expression.