Honeymooning With the Enemy, page 8
“What do you say we hit the Brazilian steakhouse?” I suggest, sliding my finger down the dining options in the room directory. “They have a forty-three-item salad bar and twelve different slow-roasted meats that are carved tableside.”
My stomach grumbles.
Storm sighs, placing the last of her t-shirts in a drawer and sliding it closed. “If it’s all the same, I think I’m going to go for a walk, get some fresh air.”
I look up. “You don’t want to eat?”
“Tanner, I appreciate you coming and taking part in this façade for me, but let’s not push it. I’m happy to not talk about high school and be civil for the sake of our sanity, but I don’t feel the need to sit across the table from one another eating a thousand different salads and animals. If it’s okay with you, I’m just going to go for a walk and have an early night.”
I push my lips into a tight smile. “Sure.”
And she disappears out the door.
I stay on the wooden dining chair for a moment, looking at the empty space where she was just standing. Well, that didn’t go exactly as I’d hoped. But I’m not giving up. Storm can be frosty and inaccessible all she wants, but I know that same warm, sensitive girl from high school is still in there somewhere. Even if she is convinced the guy I was in high school was an asshole.
Instead of sitting in the Brazilian steakhouse alone, I opt for the casual Bali Hai Hut and sit at the bar. A cheeseburger with all the trimmings is set in front of me, and for a few glorious minutes, I forget that I’m sitting here eating dinner alone, like a loser.
Before retiring to the room, I do a lap of the ship, noting entertainment and amenities as I go. Tennis courts, the Tahitian Pool, casino; this place is insane. There’s so much to do, I don’t know why we’ll even have to get off when we reach our destinations. There’s even a video arcade! The twelve-year-old boy inside me does a happy dance.
I stop at the ledge and catch the tail end of the sunset, disappearing beneath the ocean’s surface. While my eyes water against the glow, I make a pact with myself: I’m going to make sure Storm has a good time over the next ten days, whether she likes it or not. I can’t help what happened in the past, but I can do everything in my power to see that she enjoys herself. I don’t like the way the spark has gone from her eyes, or the clinical way she talks about her job. The old Storm is in there: the one I met at seventeen.
If I can see her again, this trip will be a success.
By the time I get back to the room, Storm is already there, smelling of bathroom products and dressed in summer pajamas with sloths all over them.
“Um, nice PJs,” I say, giving her plenty of space as I pass by. I sense a scowl directed at the back of my head, but I try to ignore it, focusing instead on finding my own shorts to sleep in.
“You don’t sleep naked, do you?” she says, scrunching her face like seeing me naked is the equivalent of seeing Voldemort do a pole dance.
“You mean am I sleeping naked, on this tiny couch, twelve feet away from you? No, hadn’t planned on it.” I pull a spare pillow and blanket from the wardrobe before adding, “Unless that’s part of the deal? I don’t remember reading it in the fine print.”
“A simple no is fine,” she snaps, pulling back the comforter on the bed and sliding inside. I grin to myself. Yes, I want Storm to have a good time… but there’s maybe a small part of me that enjoys ruffling her feathers.
I lie down on the couch—at least, my torso and the tops of my thighs do. The rest of my legs hang over the arm, dangling on the other side.
Rolling over, I bend my knees to fit my entire body, rubbing the right one gingerly. It could be worse—she could demand I sleep out on the deck. Although to be honest, those pool loungers looked more comfortable than this feels right now.
Storm hits the lights, casting the room into darkness, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s lying there with her eyes wide open, just like I am.
“Night,” I say, rolling over to rest my knees on the back of the couch.
Silence.
Wow… alright then. Who knew silence could say so many words? In this case: go fuck yourself, Tanner.
But then her voice breaks through the quiet.
“Night.”
I smile into the darkness.
Sweet baby Jesus. I think I’ve been hit by a truck.
I peel myself away from the couch, twisting my head to each side and making sure I still have feeling in my toes. I glare at the couch like it consciously targeted me and took to each vertebra with a baseball bat. Storm was right—I’m way too giant for this thing.
No amount of twisting and turning could make it comfortable, so I ended up sleeping in some ridiculous position, my legs draped over the back, my head twisted toward the front, and now my spine has molded itself into the shape of a Fritos Twist. I attempt a standing position. Attempt being the operative word.
“Are you okay?” Storm says, padding out of the bathroom, still in her sloth pajamas.
“I’m fine.”
“Why are you standing like that?”
“I’m not standing like anything.”
“You look like you’ve aged about fifty years overnight.”
“Thank you,” I say with false enthusiasm. “But I’m fine.” I rotate my torso the same way we used to when warming up before a game, and eventually it feels like my spine is resembling something close to alignment.
Storm shrugs, opening her drawer and selecting an outfit.
“What are we doing today?” I ask, hands on hips and ready for that fresh start.
She blinks at me. “We aren’t doing anything. I was going to check out the Thermal Suite at some point, maybe hit the gym. And then I’ll read my book for a while.”
“That’s your plan? You’re on an extravagant ship with like every amenity you could ask for, and that’s what you’re going to do? Read?”
“And check out the Thermal Suite, and hit the gym—"
“Okay, hear me out.” I clap my palms together in prayer position. “We have two whole days at sea before we make port again. That’s forty-eight hours to fill in.”
“Believe it or not, I am familiar with the meaning of the word day.”
I press my lips into a smile.
Touché.
Taking a deep breath, I keep going. “Right, which means a lot of time to kill. Time that will go faster if you’re not sitting around reading.”
It’s time to take control. Wearing my most convincing smile, I close the space between us.
“I have a proposition for you. I know you don’t want to spend time together, I get it. So how about this. The tennis courts do a doubles program, and I may have put our names down last night.”
“You did what?”
“Just listen. I think it’ll be perfect for us. We’ll get out, get some exercise, some fresh air, and we’ll get to socialize with other people, too. Who knows, you might even make a friend and then you’ll have someone to ditch me for. We can even take a photo for you to send to the office. You know, proof that we’re here and having a good time. What do you say?”
She narrows her eyes at me, moving her lips from side to side in contemplation. “I do like tennis.”
“Yes! I like tennis too.”
“You have a torn ACL, though?” She raises her eyebrow.
“I’m good enough to hobble around. You can take the hard shots,” I say. “So… that’s a yes?”
“But only one set,” she jumps in, holding up a finger. “First to six.”
“Sure. Whatever you want.”
She watches me for a few more seconds, and if I’m not mistaken, I swear there’s a hint of a smile on her lips.
“Fine. We’ll go play some tennis.”
I pinch my shoulders up as the fourth ball smacks the back of my head. Turning around, Storm brings her hands up innocently.
“Sorryyyy,” she sings. “My bad.”
“You seem to be having a lot of bads,” I say, rubbing the back of my head.
“I guess you just have a big head.” She throws up her second ball, this time serving it over the net, but it goes outside the lines.
“Double fault,” Kathy calls out, winking at her partner, Trevor. I don’t know if it’s their matching white visors or the smug way they keep tapping their rackets together, but I don’t think I’ll be hanging out with our opponents away from the tennis court any time soon.
I swap sides, bracing as Storm goes for her next serve.
WHACK
“Are you kidding me?” I turn around, rubbing my neck where it aches.
“It slipped.” Storm shrugs.
“Oh, it did?” I walk toward her. “Because if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were aiming for me.”
“Uh oh. Lovers quarrel,” Trevor says, his stupidly white teeth bared in a grin.
“Just give us a second, would you, Trevor?” I hold up my racket before turning back to Storm.
I don’t need to see the smirk on her face to know she’s absolutely hitting me on purpose.
“Are you about done?” I ask.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She smiles, blinking her sparkling green eyes at me.
I tuck my thumb into the waistband of my shorts, laughing. “I should have known you’d never agree to an activity with me. The only reason you agreed to this is because it gave you the chance to lob balls at my head.”
Storm just tilts her head, holding her racket with sweetly interlaced fingers.
I huff a laugh. “Incredible. Look, you’ve had your fun now. Can we actually play some tennis and beat these pompous idiots?”
“Who said I wasn’t in the competition?”
“Well you keep wasting serves on the back of my head.”
“But I have the second one.”
I smirk, shifting my weight to one side. “Sweetheart, your serves aren’t strong enough to waste one. You really need all the help you can get.”
“Excuse me?”
“Plus, I saw Kathy laughing at you before.”
Storm’s eyes intensify, like a cat spotting a mouse across the room. “If you’re trying to bait my competitive side, it’s not working. I don’t have one.”
“Ha, you don’t?”
“Nope.”
“The girl who made up a fake husband to get a promotion over her co-worker doesn’t have a competitive side?”
Storm glares at me, but it only rests on me for a second before drifting over to Kathy and Trevor.
“They were actually laughing?” she asks.
“Oh yeah. I even saw Trevor pulling a face.” I watch Storm’s expression carefully as she considers the stakes, weighing up her desire to hit balls into my head over her need to win against Kathy and Trevor.
“So… should we show them how it’s done?” I ask.
She nods. “Let’s do it.”
For the next twenty minutes, we play an actual game of tennis, and not a single ball is aimed at my skull. Well, none that I’m aware of. I play up toward the net while Storm hangs back, hitting the long shots and doing most of the running.
“Mine, mine!” Trevor shouts, heading toward the ball, but Kathy doesn’t listen. She goes for it too and they bump into each other, the ball bouncing over their heads.
“I said I had it!”
“It was in my square!”
Me and Storm tap rackets together, the scores drawing closer.
When it’s my turn to serve, I hit a few aces, bringing us nearly neck and neck. At one point, Storm even does a little jump, cheering and punching a fist through the air. I’ve tried not to notice, but she looks so cute in her tennis outfit. The flippy white skirt, her hair tied back so I can see her full face. She looks younger when she’s not all styled and put together, like the last times I’ve seen her. It reminds me of teenage Storm, stripped back and natural.
We get into position as Trevor takes to the back line to serve.
“Are you ready, Fernberg?” I say, watching as she bounces in position.
“I was born ready.”
Trevor smashes the ball over the net, but Storm is fast, reflexes like a ninja. She slices it back over and it spins out of control, bouncing at an angle Kathy can’t get to. When it bounces for a second time, me and Storm erupt in celebration, hitting our rackets together and grinning from ear to ear.
Match point.
“It’s all you, Jonas,” she says as I get into position.
“Ahh, I think you mean Thorn,” I say, raising an eyebrow. She snorts.
“Right. Go get ‘em, Nigel.”
I drop my head and laugh, trying to refocus as Trevor winds up for his serve. He hits it in, but I lob it straight back over. Kathy. To Storm. To Kathy. Me. Trevor. Storm does an impressive backhander and sends Kathy running, but she gets to it just in time, smashing the ball long to me.
“I got it! I got it!” I say, running backwards with my racket high in the air. And then my knee wobbles, causing me to trip over myself, and I crash into something soft.
Storm.
We topple over together, my body coming down on top of hers. For a second, I freak out that I’ve hurt her. But when I look down at her face, it breaks into happy, unrestrained laughter. I bring the weight onto my hip so I don’t crush her, but stay leaning over as we fall into a fit of laughter, wiping the tears from our eyes. I can’t remember the last time I’ve laughed so hard. My stomach is tight, contracting with the use of muscles I haven’t worked in a while.
Has anything ever been this funny?
I look down as Storm wipes the last of her tears, her green eyes sparkling up at the sun, her smile giving way to pearly teeth. Dammit. For a second, I forgot how beautiful she was.
As her eyes meet mine her giggles slow and she comes to stillness, her smile slowly winding down as we stare at each other.
My pulse quickens…
Breath deepens…
And then her eyes draw downward. “This was a stupid idea.”
“What?” I say, scrambling on the ground as she pushes out from underneath me.
“I’m going to read my book,” she says, swiping her water bottle and phone from the bench before leaving the court. I stare after her, my heart sinking toward the ground, only vaguely aware of Kathy quipping in the background.
“Is that a walk off? Guess the game is ours!”
11
Storm
I’m such an idiot.
This has been my mantra for the past twenty hours, ever since I agreed to play tennis with Tanner and let my guard slip. I can’t get that image out of my head… his face hovering above mine, his eyes crinkled with that same smile that used to make my knees weak…
Used to.
Past tense.
I’ve grown up since I was that blushing girl with a crush on the high school quarterback. Adult Storm knows better than to give in to the charms of Tanner Jonas. At least… I thought she did.
I need to get out of my head.
Tanner is still sleeping when I creep out of our room. I spare one last glance at him, all twisted and contorted on the tiny couch, before closing the door behind me. Outside, the ship is already bustling with life. People walk in and out of their rooms, ready to hit the breakfast buffet and take on a day of onboard activities. Some just line the deck, watching as the sun gets higher in the sky. We’re in the middle of an endless ocean, amongst endless opportunities for the day, and I can’t even think clearly. My train of thought starts and stops with the man sleeping on our couch. I need to talk to someone, get my head straight so that I can survive the next nine days with him.
Bianca is great for tough love, but if she gets even a whiff of my weakness, she’ll attack, and I don’t have the energy for that. I don’t need a lecture on why Tanner is The Worst right now, I just need someone to talk to.
“Shouldn’t you be like, swimming with dolphins or getting your hair twisted into culturally inappropriate braids?” Ethan says by way of a hello.
“Can you talk?” I ask, clutching the phone to my ear and putting more space between me and our room.
“I thought that’s what I was doing?”
“Just checking you’re not at Danny with the D’s house.”
Ethan sighs. “Sadly no. I woke up in my own bed, several hours ago, because Twatty McTwatface doesn’t take time off from door slamming. Not even on a Sunday.”
I walk along the deck, making my way to the rail and leaning over to watch the morning sun hover above the ocean. “While I empathize with your war against our downstairs neighbor, I have more complicated fish to fry.”
“Ah yes, your love trip with the enemy. How’s it going?”
I drag my teeth over my lip. How is it going?
Worse than I ever anticipated.
“I just thought I’d be able to stick it out. Play nice and be civil, but spend the entire trip hating him in silence. But I can already feel myself cracking… giving in to a good time.”
“And… is there something wrong with having a good time?” Ethan says. “What’s the point of being on a fancy cruise if you’re not going to enjoy yourself?”
“I’m not here to enjoy myself. I’m here to convince my office that I’m married, and to get that promotion once I’m home.”
“And having a good time while you’re at it is going to stop that from happening?”
I huff, turning my back on the sun and crossing my free arm over my chest. “I can’t have a good time with Tanner. Not with our history.”
“Okay, you have to tell me what happened between you two, and you can’t just say high school stuff,” Ethan says, adopting his bossy voice. “If I’m going to give you honest advice, I need all the information.”
My stomach churns like it’s stuck in the ship propeller. I’ve worked hard to bury what happened in high school for the sake of my mental health. Digging it up feels unnatural, like pulling up a coffin from a graveyard. Some things are meant to stay covered up.
