Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Yes.
The answer comes to me completely unbidden. Relentlessly fast, even.
Like a wimp, I try to scratch a line through it and try again. No! Of course I wouldn’t. But the truth is already there, scaring me.
I pull the bedding over my head and try to hide. Of course it doesn’t work. My breath is too hot, and though I would like a quick end to this evening, I’m not looking to suffocate beneath a down comforter, so I toss it back off my face and perk up as I hear Sienna’s door slam. She’s back from dinner! Muffled voices carry through the wall. Oh shit! She’s not alone. I think that’s Javier’s accent, but I can’t quite be sure. Then I hear a blunt object hit the wall, and I sit up.
What is happening over there?
But of course I already know.
Sienna releases a loud, throaty moan, and for the next thirty minutes, I’m treated to what could be considered free porn. I try shoving my pillow over my ears; then I turn on the TV and crank the volume up full blast. That only makes the people above me stomp on their floor, telling me to knock it off.
I wind up finding some earplugs in the bathroom, and that mostly does the trick. I mean, they can’t go all night . . .
Cut to 3:00 a.m., my face is pressed against the wall as I shout “YOU GUYS HAVE TO STOP. LITERALLY, GO TO SLEEP!”
I mean, hello, some of us have had several mental breakdowns today, and we could really use some rest.
Sienna laughs and shouts back “SORRY!” in her singsong British accent, and I mostly forgive her, though I’ve already decided it’s only fair that I rib her about this tomorrow for at least most of the morning. That’s if I see her. She and Javier might be holed up in her bedroom all day. I smile at the thought, happy for her, somehow. I always thought misery loved company, but that’s not how I feel. More like, at least someone’s having a good day, you know?
Saturday is my seventh day on board Aurelia, and it brings with it the potential for a fresh start. When I pry my eyes open at a quarter past eight, I try not to immediately spiral back into the same funk I found myself in yesterday. I’m going to table the work situation for the time being.
Someone from the crew has slipped the day’s itinerary under my door, and there’s a whole slew of fun things lined up, from the looks of it:
Poolside Yoga—9:00 a.m.
Guided Historic Walking Tour—depart Aurelia at 9:00 a.m.; return by 12:00 p.m.
Snorkeling Excursion (Coki Point beach)—depart Aurelia at 10:00 a.m.; return by 2:00 p.m.
Culinary Arts Cooking Class with Executive Chef Thomas Keller (La Dame kitchen)—11:00 a.m.
Wine Tasting (Library)—3:30 p.m.
Sunset Cocktails (The bow—deck six)—6:30 p.m.
Jazz Band and Supper Club (La Dame)—8:30 p.m.
I would gladly do any of these activities, but Sienna and I talked about snorkeling, and though her plans might have changed now since Javier likely bent her into a pretzel several times throughout the night—I’d imagine she might need a little break from physical activities—I still have my heart set on being outside and in the water today. I need some good ole vitamin D.
I get dressed in a one-piece layered beneath jean shorts and a simple white blouse. I slip on sandals and grab a water bottle and stow a few snacks in my bag, just in case. I’m not sure what all the snorkeling excursion will entail, but I don’t want to be out on a boat, starving because I didn’t think to pack some mixed nuts.
On the threshold of my suite, I hesitate for a multitude of reasons.
I didn’t crack open my laptop this morning. Should I at least check my email? Absolutely not.
Okay, well . . . should I be worried about bumping into Phillip immediately upon walking out into the hallway? Possibly.
But I can’t stay locked away all day just because I’m scared of what it will be like when I see him today. Leaving how I did, all cloak and daggers like I was a secret agent, was kind of dumb, I realize. It’s too late to change it, though. To go back and offer a firm handshake and a curt goodbye.
If I see him, I’ll be cool. I’ll smile and pretend like it’s any other day on any other boat.
I head toward the dining hall, not bothering to knock on Sienna’s door first. I don’t want to accidentally see Javier’s peen this morning, thank you very much. They can sleep in.
There’s a breakfast buffet happening, though on a scale and magnitude I’ve never experienced before. This ain’t your uncle’s favorite Golden Corral. There’s a bevy of French pastries set out on a table, the length of which could rival a football field. Fruit has been arranged in delicate little crystal glasses, presliced and perfectly proportioned. A chef whips up omelets. Another folds Nutella and strawberry cream inside delicate crepes.