Caribbean Cruising (12 page)

I was beginning to notice that when it was time to pay for things, Brooke was usually preoccupied—

watching something else or conveniently talking with someone.

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I didn't mind. I didn't have any expenses on this trip except for what I spent on the islands, and I'd been saving my money for some time.

Once the waitress walked away, Brook turned back to me and tapped the neck of her bottle against mine.

"To good times."

Lifting my bottle, I returned the gesture.

This was so unlike anything that my buds and I had done before, that I was feeling a little like a stranger in a strange land. And yet, I loved it. The sounds, the atmosphere, the people who continually wandered in and out.

It was obvious that most of the people were tourists. Too many were sunburned or had zinc oxide covering their noses. Probably from doing much of the same things that we'd done today.

I watched as a couple of guys at one table were chugalugging bottles of beer without stopping, their friends cheering them on. I figured the winner was the one who finished first.

A resounding cheer went up as a dark-haired guy slammed his empty bottle on the table and released a large belch. Everyone was patting him on the back. He wore a lei around his neck. Only one button on his Hawaiian shirt was buttoned. That seemed to be about as dressed up as he got. He caught me looking at him and grinned.

In an effort to improve my flirtation technique, I grinned back.

"So how would you describe Ryan's kiss?" Brooke asked.

I jerked my attention away from the hottie, and stared at Brooke. "What?"

"Ryan. When he kissed you this afternoon, what was it like?"

I took a swig of beer, not really liking the taste. I decided when the waitress stopped by, I'd order a margarita. For now, I needed some time to think up an answer to Brooke's question. I'd never shared my experiences with guys with my best friends, and I felt a little awkward revealing anything to Brooke. On the other hand, once this trip was over, we'd probably never see each other again.

"It was nice," I said.

Her eyes got big and round. "Nice? Nice is when a guy gives you the answers to your math homework.

Get a little more specific."

"It was just a kiss. It just wouldn't be fair to try to describe it."

"Toadlike?"

"Definitely not."

"Slobbery?"

"No." I gave up trying to get her to stop asking me about the kiss. "It was perfect, okay?"

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"Okay." She grinned. "See, that wasn't so hard, was it? Honestly, Lindsay, you need to learn to open up.

I sense that you have a lot of repressed sexuality."

"What are you? A psychiatrist?"

"I'm an observer of human nature." Brooke looked back over the crowds as though she was extremely pleased with something.

"Come on, let's dance!" she shouted.

"We don't have dance partners," I pointed out.

"Who's going to notice in that crowd?"

I followed her out to the patio where people were dancing—not always together, not always as couples.

It didn't really seem to matter.

The important thing was to move with the music, sidle up to someone, make eye contact, and move away to the next person. Brooke seemed completely comfortable doing exactly that. I was more or less dancing by myself. No way could I go up and touch my shoulder to a stranger's.

Then I felt a nudge against my shoulder and turned. There was the beer-guzzling winner.

He grinned. "Aren't you traveling on
The Enchantment
?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Thought I saw you at the club last night. I'm Chad."

"Lindsay."

We were dancing, moving, even as we were talking.

"So where are you from?" he asked.

I laughed at the now unoriginal but so familiar question. "Dallas."

"New Orleans."

We continued to move in rhythm to the beat of the band. Chad was cute. Dark hair and eyes. Up close, it appeared that he'd decided to give his razor a vacation as well, because he had stubble on his chin that seemed scraggly and out of place.

"So you partying loose?" he asked. "Or are you hooked up with someone?"

"Well, I came with a friend."

I pointed over to where Brooke was dancing between two guys. One I recognized as the beer-guzzling loser. I have to admit that I felt rather pleased that the winner had chosen me. Although I suppose even the word "winner" can be a relative term.

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I didn't want to contemplate on the fact that Brooke'd attracted two guys to my one. She was definitely vixen flirtation.

Chad grinned. "Only her? No dude?"

"No dude."

"Cool."

We continued to dance. Chad was nice enough. He had a cute, sexy grin. Orthodontist money, well spent. But I didn't feel that skip-a-heartbeat-catch-my-breath double take that I had when I'd met Ryan.

As the music momentarily paused, Chad took my hand to keep me in the dance area. As the music started up again, and we picked up the rhythm of the beat, I told myself that he was a lot of fun.

Because he
was
cute. There was absolutely nothing wrong with the guy. I kept telling myself that maybe he was the one. However, myself kept replying, "Don't think so."

But I couldn't figure out why not.

Brooke made her way over to me, her two guys in tow.

"This is Marc with a C, and Shooter," Brooke said, introducing her dance partners.

I had to tilt my head back to look into Shooter's eyes. With his hands he made a little motion like someone holding a basketball and then making a free throw.

"Basketball," he explained.

"He claims to have good hands," Brooke said, leaning into him. "I like a guy with good hands."

"I have the best," Shooter said.

"Marc and Shooter are staying on the same ship that we are," Brooke said. It turned out that the guys we'd been dancing with were traveling together.

"So we're going to blow this joint," Brooke said. "Are you coming?"

"Where?"

"Who knows? Wherever the mood strikes."

"Sure."

Chad slung his arm across my shoulders, as though to lay claim on me. I shouldn't have been bothered by his attention, but it just seemed like a little too much intimacy too fast.

But wasn't that what I wanted?

No, what I wanted was to meet someone with whom I immediately bonded and felt amazingly comfortable with. An image of Ryan jumped into my mind, and I shoved it back out. Ryan and I would mhtml:file://C:\Program Files\eMule\Incoming\+ Hawthorne, Rachel - Caribbean Cruising....

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only feel more awkward if we tried to become intimate. I had a feeling he knew that as much as I did, which was the reason why he'd been so quiet on the boat ride back to the dock. Whatever had possessed him to kiss me to begin with was a mystery, but he'd obviously regretted it.

Chad was nice and fun, but I didn't feel that connection with him that I was looking for.

Still, he was a good dancer. And a heck of a beer guzzler.

The five of us roamed the streets of St. Thomas, hitting one club after another. Sometimes just sitting at a table, drinking margaritas, and listening to music. Sometimes dancing like crazy.

No rhyme or reason. Just whatever mood struck us. Or, rather, struck Brooke.

I was beginning to think she was ADD, because she never sat still for long.

It grew late, and I knew my time in St. Thomas was coming to a close.

People began meandering back toward the ship. Chad still had his arm across my shoulders, though I was beginning to think that he was using me more as a crutch than anything else. He was a little unsteady on his feet after winning every beer-guzzling contest that he and his buds had competed in tonight.

"We've got a little time. Let's walk the shoreline," Brooke suggested, a guy on either side of her.

They wove down the shore, laughing and giggling. It was funny to watch because I didn't think any of them could have walked a straight line if their lives depended on it.

Chad and I reached the water's edge, and he leaned on me a little heavily.

"You're the best, Lindsay," he said, his words a little slurred. "How about a kiss?"

Where was the spontaneity in that? But I was determined to be a good sport. And he did have that killer smile.

I turned my face up toward him, watched as his eyes rolled back, felt his arm slipping off my shoulders…

And screeched as he hit the sand in an ungraceful heap.

CHAPTER 14

O
ur walk along the shoreline left a lot to be desired. Chad's friends—who weren't much steadier on their feet than he'd been—struggled to haul him back to the boat. Brooke thought the whole thing was hilarious.

"Aren't they fun?" she asked, as we followed the guys back to the dock.

"Absolutely. I don't know when I've enjoyed watching a guy pass out more," I said sarcastically.

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She nudged my shoulder with hers. "Okay, I'll admit that part wasn't cool. But you gotta expect to see a few guys pass out when you're on the islands. That's what it's all about."

Drinking until you literally dropped? It wasn't exactly how I planned for my island adventures to go.

Although I had quite a buzz going right now, I was fairly certain that I was still walking a straight line.

When we arrived back at the ship, I was feeling a tad restless. But I wasn't really in the mood to go clubbing.

"I'm going to sit on deck for a while," I told Brooke.

"I'll join you."

I had figured she'd go off with Shooter, so I was surprised when she decided to come with me to the top deck. Only a few people were still up there, so we settled onto loungers.

Isolated, staring up at the stars.

Brooke sighed. "I wish I could live on an island forever. It's such fun."

"Don't you think it would get old after awhile?" I asked.

"Never."

I wasn't so sure, though. I mean, I loved shopping, listening to the bands, parasailing, dancing, meeting guys. But they were all part of vacation, and what made vacation fun was knowing that I was having experiences that I wouldn't normally have.

If that made any sense.

It was the uniqueness of it all.

"There's something incredibly peaceful about being on the ocean," I said.

"You've got that right."

"Brooke, are you in school?"

"Sophomore. Community college."

"Do you have a major?"

"Partying."

I shifted in the chair. "No, seriously. I know you like to party, but I don't know anything else about you."

Other than she'd broken up with Chris, but I didn't want to get her thoughts going down that path.

"There's not much more to know. I'm all about partying, enjoying life, getting the most out of it."

"I'm so dull next to you."

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"Are you kidding me?" she asked. "You're fun, Lindsay. I wouldn't be hanging out with you if you weren't fun."

"That's a ringing endorsement."

"It is. You've got no idea."

I suppose I really didn't have any idea how much fun I was. Maybe I was selling myself short. After all so far on this cruise, I'd danced with several guys, kissed a guy, and slept with a guy (sort of).

"The guys we met tonight…which one did you like best?" she asked.

"Chad is the only one I really spent much time with."

"His collapsing sort of ruins his appeal," she said.

"Definitely."

"I don't know why guys can't figure out when they've reached their limits on drinking." She spread out her arms. "I mean. Here we are, two hot chicks, alone because those boys have to put their passed-out buddy to bed. How lame is that? We could still be out."

"The clubs onboard are still open."

"All the good guys are probably taken by now."

We sat for a while, just watching the sky. Eventually the ship sounded its horn, and we began moving into the night.

"So tomorrow is an onboard day and night," Brooke finally said. "Why don't we meet poolside around two?"

After spending all day with Brooke, I was ready for some alone time, and I could easily get that in the morning. "I'm down with that."

"I'll let the guys know."

My eyes widened. "Which guys?"

She grinned. "All of them. I believe in bringing the party with me."

She stood. "I had a great time today, Lindsay. See you tomorrow."

"'Night, Brooke."

I shifted my body, trying to get more comfortable on the lounger. I was still too restless to go to bed. I suppose I could have sat on the balcony outside my cabin, but I was in the mood for a lot of openness.

I couldn't help but think about the movie
Titanic
. The romance that had taken place aboard that ship had me sitting through the movie three times. Of course watching Leonardo Di Caprio wasn't any hardship mhtml:file://C:\Program Files\eMule\Incoming\+ Hawthorne, Rachel - Caribbean Cruising....

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either.

I suppose a part of me had thought that I'd easily find a romance similar to the one in the movie, on a cruise ship.

But it wasn't easy meeting people. The guys we'd met tonight could just have easily been traveling on another ship that was touring the Caribbean, and our paths would never again cross.

Tomorrow, however, would be another day. Maybe I'd have a bit more luck at meeting Mr. Perfect-for-One-Night.