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Brandon’s attitude had seemed to change, the anger and sadness replaced with determination. He said he understood about the others; I hoped he meant it and would still feel the same once we were off the ship.
Yet he’d said something that none of the others had.
He loved me.
I stole repeated glances of him as we walked. Brandon could have been angry about my not telling him about the others, but he’d only asked about my feelings. He’d seemed a little surprised…and then he had accepted it. Said he understood.
It wasn’t a horrible thing, but it wasn’t what I was expecting. Most guys I had known would have called me foul names and left me without much thought if I’d admitted to having been with other guys.
It struck me as funny now that Axel hadn’t seemed to hesitate either. He’d rushed right up first thing, hugged me, and then, in the bedroom, when I’d told him about Blake, he’d seemed ticked but had taken it really well. Brandon had simply accepted it.
It made me realize that maybe I didn’t really understand them at all, which was sort of the point of why I couldn’t choose. I hadn’t expected such a reaction. I hadn’t given myself a chance to learn their depth, how they thought, how they felt.
Brandon brushed his hand against mine as we walked, even though he had plenty of room on his side of the hallway. Even as I stepped away a bit to give him space, he stayed right beside me.
A few times, his fingers almost twined with mine, but he seemed to stop himself and pulled away, only to continue to brush against me again as we walked on.
After so many mixed emotions, I needed a minute to myself.
I made him stop by the bathroom, which gave me a good excuse; I needed to straighten myself and to check on my pad anyway.
He kept an eye out at the door. He didn’t like me going in alone, but I warned him security would get called down if there was a guy lurking around in the woman’s bathroom.
The bathroom was tiny, with only two stalls and one counter with a sink and hand dryer, and thankfully empty.
I stood there looking at myself in the mirror. Some of my lipstick had smudged, but otherwise, my face was okay.
Brandon had kissed me. He’d told me he loved me.
He wasn’t the first guy to admit he loved me. I’d had boys in elementary school tell me such things. I’d rarely believed it, though. In high school, with a few boyfriends here and there, they’d said it and I’d said it back.
I wasn’t sure if I ever meant it. At least not until now.
I kept hearing his words over and over again in my head. He hadn’t meant to tell me yet. I imagined it meant he’d known for a while but had never said anything. How long had he known?
Would it have changed things if he’d said something earlier? Would I have let him say it?
Would I have dared say I loved him in return if I hadn’t gone overboard, nearly died, and sworn since then to be honest with them?
I hated to say it, but I was starting to wonder why it had taken me until I had faced death to be willing to be so honest. That included letting others be honest around me, and believing them.
I heard an echo, like someone entering the men’s bathroom next door. It brought me back to what I was doing. I needed to hurry before someone came inside.
Luckily there was a free feminine product machine inside the women’s restroom. I took a pad into the stall and locked the door.
It shocked me how heavy the flow was despite my feeling fine, no cramps like before. I blamed stress again.
When I came back out, we headed to the stairs, knowing the elevators were busy. Breakfast was calling.
When we came across other people using the stairs as well, Brandon hid his face.
“Why are you doing that?” I asked.
“Corey’s out and about,” he whispered to me. “We might need to pull our little twin switch later, and I don’t want people seeing there’s two of us.”
“Let Fancy do your makeup.”
“Nope,” he said. “Last resort.”
I couldn’t blame him, but I wondered if he got uncomfortable around Fancy. She’d once gotten him to go to a party as her date, and I hadn’t told him going in about her man handle.
We headed down a few decks. By deck four, I was wheezing. I silently cursed my body for being so weak.
He smirked at me. “Seriously? We’ve only gone down three levels.”
“I’m tired,” I said, pouting, but it was harder to pout when I was breathing so heavy. “I’ve had a rough night.” Normally it wasn’t that big of a deal, but the day before had really wiped me out. Or maybe it was my period.
He seemed worried, but once I’d caught my breath, I was okay for the rest of the steps down, though I was breathing heavy again on the last flight.
Deck two had a small atrium with what looked like a fake garden in front of the spa entryway. A fountain—which wasn’t flowing at the moment—stood in the center, and there were potted flowers and bushes around it. The bushes looked too finely sculpted to be real. As we followed the blue-and-white striped carpet, it appeared to be weaving like a path around the garden. I got the feeling the carpet was supposed to represent water.
The spa’s double doors were made of glass, with black Japanese lettering down one panel. A gold-framed sign on the wall next to the door had a list of available treatments, like body wraps, mud baths, and massages.
I’d never even looked at spas except to walk by them at the malls. The last time I’d been on the ship, I’d gone to a Japanese bath, but that was on a different part of the ship. This was more like a spa I saw ads for around Charleston. I thought it was all potion-brewing. If I wanted to stick mud on my face, I’d go roll around in the dirt. Why would I ever pay good money for it?
It didn’t appear anyone was around, but it was still early. Someone was running a vacuum inside. I wasn’t even sure it was open yet.
I lingered at the door, gazing in but seeing only a sitting area and a fancy desk. There were more plants inside, next to cushioned chairs. Magazines were fanned out on a coffee table. No attendants in sight.
I tested the door. Unlocked. I held the door open only an inch. I waited, studying the desk, anticipating a worker to come by, or to be hit on the head from behind like Blake, but nothing happened. I released the door, just looking in the glass.
Brandon stuck his hands into his pockets and glanced around. He stepped over to the list of treatments and read it. “What?” he asked while still reading. “See anything?”
Nothing to see yet. “Maybe…you should go in,” I said.
“Why?”
“Ask for…you know. A happy ending.”
He rolled his eyes. “No, thanks.”
“I mean, just to see if they say yes,” I said. “You don’t have to go through with it. Slip them extra money and see if they’ll take it and offer up the bonus. Or if they call Sam down.”
“Why?” he asked.
“Just to see if they do. And then maybe…I don’t know.” I didn’t really have a plan. I just wanted to see what happened
if you ordered something special. If Sam came down to talk to him, it would prove his point that there was prostitution going on, and we’d know we were on the right track. However, I wasn’t sure what that would do for us.
Brandon came toward me, held my elbow, and pointed toward the doors, urging me in. “He won’t talk to Corey, he’s not going to talk to me,” he said. “But maybe it’s not a waste to come down here. Come with me, but follow my lead.”
I hurried in with him, glad he had come up with something. Winging it was mostly my thing.
Inside the waiting area, the air was thick with chemical smells: hairspray, shampoo, and nail polish mingled with incense. There was also some fresh sea air trying to cancel it all out. Someone had a window open? Could you open windows on a ship? Maybe it was air freshener.
Now that we could see further inside, there was a wide expanse of windows looking out over the ocean. There were sunning chairs out on the balcony, nicer than those around the pool and on the sundecks. The spa’s chairs had cushions, pillows, and embroidered towels folded at the foot of each.
To the left and right were signs about stations for nail care and hair salons, and the hallways continued around the ship. Blue, gold, and beige were the reigning colors of everything, and fancy script letter Ls were tacked up tastefully in different locations.
There was a bubbling sound, like a fountain, further in, although I couldn’t see its source. Music played, a soothing flute and piano tune.
We approached the desk quietly. The vacuuming continued to the left, further down the hall. We peeked down the hallways, each lined with closed doors. I couldn’t tell what was inside, but whoever was vacuuming was in one of the rooms or around a bend somewhere.
“Check the desk,” Brandon whispered to me. He handed me a small USB key. “Put this in their computer.”
“Why?”
“It’ll make a copy of the files.” Then he handed me his cell phone. “And there’s a physical appointment book—take pictures of the schedule with this.”
Didn’t we have access to all this information already? I hadn’t even thought to ask Doyle or anyone about the computer.
