It’s been a couple of days since remixed Kys has hit my system, and I still haven’t learned my lesson.
Ineedto stop drinking caffeinated dessert at night. But who could blame me? Those frozen coffees hit the spot. They’re tasty. They’re nostalgic. They’re perfect excuses for indirect kisses with my roomie. They’re also my comfort food now, while I’ve been feeling like the other shoe’s gonna drop any minute now.
This Kys cruise has been too good to be true. Dreamy roomie. Seaside view. Steamy doctors. Fun new friends, with a few reluctant ones that reasonably still hold a grudge against me because of my mom. And on top of all that, I get to have clean Kys every day. Life’s pretty damn good lately.
But nothing—absolutely nothing—has ever gone my way for this long.
Sighing, I stand by the tiny circle of a window in this room, scanning the blue sky and the bright sea outside. There’s a few birds flying over the open water. Must be nice.
Turning away from the window, I stare openly at my sleeping roomie. He’s the much better view.
How does he come out of a coma, looking fucking sexier than before?
Only a Dela Cruz like him and his sister could make crazy situations look sexy on them.
Nil’s flat on his back, but he makes unconsciousness look attractive. It’s not fair. If I slept like that, I’d look like a corpse they forgot to tag.
I rub the back of my neck and keep staring. I’ve been doing a lot of staring since he came back into my life looking like he got his beauty sleep in bulk. I didn’t expect that. Didn’t expect him to remember me either. Didn’t expect him to notice all the small things I do.
I bite back a grin. He has no idea what he does to me. Or maybe he does, but he’s just hiding it well, which would honestly be even hotter.
Sometimes I catch Nil looking at me like he knows something’s off, and he’d be right. I’ve been avoiding mirrors like they’re booby-trapped. I don’t need to see my own face to remember all the shit I did trying to win my mother over. Every time I catch a glimpse of myself I get hit with some PTSD greatest-hits reel I never asked for.
I sure as hell can’t talk to Nil about it. We’re both survivors of the same monster, and opening that box might turn this whole ship into a crime scene.
If we start comparing trauma notes, I’m pretty sure I’ll sprint to Em’s lab, grab her entire stash of remixed Kys, and swallow it all in one go, just to shut my brain up.
I just want to enjoy something for once. Something good. Something easy. Something that doesn’t come with blood or guilt or a fifty-page therapy workbook. But every time I get close to feeling normal, I can imagine that other shoe waiting to drop. Huge, heavy,ready to stomp me into the floor like I’m just a cockroach.
Hearing Nil move in his sleep, I watch him turn on his side. His hand slides near his face. He’s frowning like he’s arguing with someone in a dream. Probably me. I hope it’s me.
I hold my knee down to stop myself from reaching him. I shouldn’t touch him while he sleeps. Not when I don’t know how he’ll react. Not when I know exactly how I will.
It hits me then, what the real problem is. I like him too much. Way too much. More than I should, considering this whole setup is one bad plot twist away from turning into a documentary about doomed idiots at sea.
I’ve liked people before. Wanted people before. But this feels different. Because the thing is, every crush I’ve ever had came with chemicals in the mix. Kys in my system, Ma in my ear. None of it ever felt like mine. But this? This stupid pounding in my chest when he looks at me? That’s all natural disaster.
Absolutely all me, baby.
For once, there’s nothing criminal involved. Unless you count my good looks. And this ship full of mostly criminal addicts floating in international waters. Oh, and also, the incredibly illegal remixed Kys that Em’s feeding us.
Okay, so there’s a lot of crime involved, but I’m not being manipulated. There isn’t anyone here who’s forcing me to do anything.
And in all honesty, Nil makes me feel like maybe I’m not the family fuck-up when he laughs at my jokes. And ever since he ran out of the MedBay with his face flaming red ‘cause of something I said, I haven’t stopped replaying that moment in my head.
So if I ever get to have him, I’m not surviving it. Not emotionally. Possibly not physically. He’d probably pass out if I offer that kiss again.
Em would blame me. Idris would laugh at me. Damon would lecture me about responsibility. Sterling would sharpen a knife pointed at me. Kaye would high-five me. Elle would tell me that…she trusts me to take care of her brother.
I scoff out a sad laugh. I’m in this too deep already, aren’t I?
I need actual therapy, but instead, I have Nil’s pretty face and free caffeine, so here we are.
My hand slides to my chest, feeling the cotton softness of my plain pro-celibacy shirt. Right under my palm and over my heart is an inked, cursiveEthat makes things a bit messy.
Once upon a time, I thought I was in love with someone else. But that someone else’s brother is sound asleep and so damn breathtaking. Tempting me to want something so bad that if I ever get to have it, I can’t let it go this time.
Nil turns over in his bunk, blinking slow and heavy. The sunlight’s acting like a spotlight on his beautiful face. He looks like a perfect sculpture someone knocked over.
