“What’sthat?” I ask, swaying toward him after he pulls a delicious-smelling tray from the oven.
“Pizza rolls, what else?”
“Oliver,” I whisper, leaning so far forward, I nearly tip off the counter, and Ollie has to catch me. “I love your pizza rolls. They’re my favorite snack, especially when I’m drunk.”
“I know that, kitten,” he says, and smacks Simon on the hand with a spatula when he reaches for one.
“What the hell, man?” Simon says, rubbing at the back of his hand. “You don’t have to be such a dick about it.”
“I made your fecking grilled cheese. Leave my girl’s food alone.”
I cackle loudly and point a finger at Simon. “Ha! Hands off my snack! What are you, the South African Hamburglar? No, Pizza Roll Burglar?”
“That’s an awful name,” Nekesa says. “Keep it general, like... South African Snack Burglar.”
I point to Nekesa. “You’re my favorite. Britt! Text Jo and tell her Nekesa’s my new favorite.”
Nekesa grins, Ollie shakes his head, and Simon stares longingly at the pizza rolls.
Britt slumps against the counter with her chin propped in one hand. “Ollie’s girl, huh?”
I turn to Britt, finally registering what Ollie’s said. “I’m my own damn girl,” I say. I fling my arms out wide, and Ollie has to lean back to avoid getting whacked in the chest. “No one owns Nina Lejeune. I go when I want, I come when I want—”
Britt pats me on the leg and hollers, “Did you hear that, everyone? Nina comes when she wants!”
“That is twisting my words,” I say. I boop her nose and nearly tip off the counter again. “And you know what? Maybe Idocome when I want. I make sure of it. Never fake it, Britt, that’s the best advice you’ll ever get. Don’t let anyone tell you that all women should orgasm from penetrative sex. Most women only orgasm with clitoral stimulation. I know this one guy who does this thing with his mouth that’s—”
“And the galley’s closed!” Ollie interrupts, steadying me by putting his hand on my waist.
I frown up at him. “I’meducatingtheyouth, Oliver. Do youwantthem to be cursed to a life of joyless sex?”
Ollie blows on a pizza roll to cool it down before shoving it in my mouth. “I wantyouto not say anything you’ll regret saying tomorrow.”
I mumble an incoherent response.God, these pizza rolls are good.
Ollie glares at the rest of the crew. “Out of here, the lot of you. Go feck up someone else’s part of the boat.”
Britt straightens and stretches her arms above her head in a yawn. She looks between me and Ollie with amusement. “Thank you, Nina. I have learnedsomany things tonight. I think you ought to give us another lesson tomorrow. Maybe you and Ollie can co-teach?”
“Out!” Ollie says.
Britt, who has a grilled cheese in each hand, takes a big bite out of one and then the other before following the others down into the crewmess. When Ollie helps me off the counter, I go to follow Britt, but he calls out after me. “Aren’t you forgetting something, darling?”
“Right, right, right,” I say. I dip into a low curtsy and put on my best Irish accent. “Thank you for the snacks, Oliver. Good night.”
Ollie laughs. “You only had one, Neen. You need to sober up or you’ll be miserable tomorrow.”
“Mm. You’re right,” I say, ditching the bad Irish accent when I realize how hungry I am. “But can we eat them up on the bunny pad?”
“Where else would we eat them?” He takes the plate of pizza rolls in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. I loop my arm through his and let him lead me up to the bunny pad, where I sigh heavily onto the cushions and stare out at the ocean.
Ollie sits beside me and sets the plate of pizza rolls in front of us, then opens the bottle of water and passes it to me. We eat in silence for a while as the water, wind, and food slowly sober me up.
“You know what this reminds me of?” I say.
“What?”
“The first night we ever hung out.”
