“I mean, that doesn’t really roll off the tongue.” He purses his lips. “How about Light of My Life?”
“No, we should go with honesty. Makes Me Ill?”
“More like Makes Me Come, amiright?” He holds his hand up for a high five.
“Did you really think I was going to high-five that?” I point to his hand with my glass.
“How about Not as Good an Auctioneer as Me?” he asks, putting his hand down, un-fived. “Since we’re going with honesty.”
“I think we’re not being realistic about nicknames. They should really be one or two words long. Jackass? Moron? Spoiled Brat? Richie Rich? Any striking your interest?”
“I like your initiative, but I feel like we can keep workshopping this until we find one we all like.”
The words of the exchange are just as biting as the ones we’d had before this trip, but the tone has gotten a lot lighter than it was before, the same way that the pranks have gotten more harmless since then.
When I think back on it, the tone had started getting lighter ever since Gavin barged into my room and accused me of stealing his girlfriend. The back and forth has been just as quick, but more...teasing, now.
“Hercules.” Because he reminds me of the confident, muscular demigod that swaggers around with us mere mortals.
“Because I’m so strong?” He flexes his biceps and kisses each one in turn.
“Because you’re going to have to accomplish more than twelve labors to get with this.” I wave my finger, encompassing all of me.
Gavin stops the man with the champagne and gets two more glasses of the bubbly. “Then I should have some more sustenance before you ask me to slay a lion or a Minotaur.”
After the annoyingly perfect beautiful ride to the harbor, in the annoyingly perfect spring weather, we get to an annoyingly large yacht.
“Ah, I was wondering whether to upgrade my yacht to the newest model. It’ll be nice to see it in action before I commit,” Harrison says when he gets out of the van.
This perfect day keeps getting worse. For me.
We board the yacht, where there’re appetizers already set up on a table outside overlooking the water.
“If everyone wants to make a plate of food and grab some drinks, there’s a surprise inside the boat as well.”
The way this day is going for me, it’ll probably be a bedazzle-your-watchband-with-diamonds station.
And Harrison’s Rolex band will have just gotten scuffed.
We all make a plate, and then follow Gavin into the ship’s interior. And I immediately get overwhelmed by a red cloud of rage.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Because this is perfection. Canvasses and sculptures are set up in the lounge, turning the boat into a floating art gallery.
“I have a friend who’s a gallery owner out here, and he loaned me some pieces so we can be outside seeing the scenery or inside seeing the hottest pieces of the Long Island art scene.”
“Well played, Hercules. Well played,” I whisper-growl through clenched teeth to Gavin as he walks toward the door to get his own plate.
“A compliment? From the prickly Ms. Gupta. As I live and breathe,” Gavin says, his best Southern accent on full display.
“Is Southern belle really how you want to play this?”
“Please immediately forget I said that.”
“Nope. You’re Scarlett now. You should get some food, Scarlett. You should never be hungry again.” And I haven’t seen him eat since last night.
“I’ll get something in a second.”
