Page 27 of A Perfect Disaster

At least, not in front of me.

I take a deep breath and psych myself up. The situation is getting complicated. It’s no longer just the physical attraction, nor the shadow of the disaster from that last cruise, nor the guilt I carry. It’s realizing that I don’t know how much longer I can hold out without kissing her.

9

Helen

When the bulk of the passengers finally retire to their cabins, the Marine IV seems to release the air it has held in all day. A ship of this tonnage is never completely silent; it creaks almost imperceptibly, vibrates with a constant pulse, and breathes with the life of its own engines. Outside, the Mediterranean brushes the hull with gentle, rhythmic waves. But here, in the crew quarters, the staff takes a much-needed breather before continuing the voyage.

I’m sitting on one of the stools in the crew bar, holding a nonalcoholic cocktail in my hands. And I’m exhausted. We haven’t recorded any serious incidents in the daily report, and that fact alone should be enough to help me end the day on a positive note. However, my analytical mind insists on replaying the first few hours of a cruise that has already brought me too many surprises.

Although the only surprise that really leaves me dazed and unable to think clearly is Maika.

I stir the ice with my straw. At the far end of the bar, two bridge officers talk in a monotonous whisper; an engineer yawns over a half-finished pint of beer, and a jazz piece plays over the background speaker system at such a low volume that it sounds like the lingering echo of the deck party.

The door opens and Gonzalo walks in with his arms raised, as if he’d won a battle.

“My favorite officer has survived!” he exclaims at the top of his lungs.

I look at him with what little energy I have left and raise my glass to him.

“Please don’t make so much noise.”

Gonzalo ignores my warning with his usual impertinence and wraps his arms around my shoulders in an excessive hug that forces me to shrink back.

“I’m proud of you,” he says, squeezing me tight.

“Let go of me already, damn it,” I protest.

“Don’t hold back the affection. You should let yourself be loved a little more.”

“I’m holding back the urge to throw this cocktail at you.”

“That counts as a form of human interaction too, doesn’t it?” he replies, giving me a smile.

I push him away gently. Gonzalo settles onto the adjacent barstool, visibly pleased to have broken my stiffness, and signals to the bartender to pour him a drink. Then he rests his forearms on the wood and looks at me curiously.

“Okay, let’s analyze the facts. How was your first day in the chaos?” he asks as he’s being served.

I lower my gaze to the bottom of my glass.

“I’ve navigated worse conditions.”

“You’re exaggerating,” he says with a laugh.

“I accept it as part of the demands of this uniform.”

Gonzalo receives his glass and takes a generous sip, savoring it slowly.

“Rumor has it you work wonderfully with Maika,” he adds.

I slowly look up and study him closely. He raises his eyebrows twice in a row, like a complete idiot.

“Are you going to start with that too?” I ask, annoyed. “I thought you were on my side.”

“I get along with both of you; it’s nothing personal,” he says, shrugging.

I open my mouth to reply; I close it immediately and open it again, incredulous.