2
BEING DRUNK ON A BOATis fun, until it isn’t.
Then suddenly, the gentle swaying feels a whole lot like you might fall over the edge and drown.
At least, that’s how my night is starting to go. It started with way too many cocktails, dancing, swimming and more food than I could possibly need. Now, I’m standing on the upper deck, fingers curled around the railing, trying to get my head to stop spinning. I focus on the horizon, afraid to look down because I will absolutely vomit.
“If we go down while we’re out here, can you tell everyone I’m six foot three and that I was a hero?”
I jerk, spinning around to see the strange guy who was with the captain yesterday. Up close, he is even more nerdy than he looked from a distance. He has thick-framed glasses, sandy blond hair brushed to the side, and light green eyes. He seems friendly, though, and there is a quirky feel about him that is certainly unique.
“I’ll write that down,” I say, not missing a beat, “and commission a marble statue for the mainland so everyone knows how heroic you were.”
The guy grins, then sticks a hand out toward me. “Adrian Moretti,” he says, “former scholarship kid, current walking cautionary tale, future star of cable news disaster coverage.”
I shake his hand.
His palm is soft, cold, and a little damp. He holds onto my fingers a touch too long, staring into my face with an intensitythat has me feeling slightly uncomfortable. “You looked like you were planning your own burial at sea,” he says. “You’re not, right? If you are, can I have your spot in the lifeboat? I bruise like a peach.”
This is so unexpected I half-laugh, half-snort. It’s impossible to dislike someone so upfront about their lack of survival skills.
“I’m Grace. Not six foot three,” I say, “and if I go down, just tell people I was dignified, or at least not screaming. Maybe I rescued a small child, just for good measure.”
Adrian leans in. “I have got you covered. For now, I’m going to check out the electronics on this big boat. Maybe see how the lifeboat situation is. Did you know that whales could eat us if only they were a little more ambitious?”
I stare at him. “I hadn’t thought of that, no.”
He nods. “Something to think about. Goodnight, Grace.”
I laugh. “Bye, Adrian.”
Well, what a damn encounter that was.
I go back to looking over the railing, trying to ignore my stomach turning.
“Never a good idea to drink on a boat,” a voice growls next to me, low enough that I jump.
God, I really am in my own world. I hadn’t even heard Ace approaching, and as my eyes take him in, I notice that he looks a thousand times more dangerous in the moonlight. He stands just a little too close, like he’s making sure I don’t pitch myself into the black water.
I squeeze the rail harder. “So, I’ve figured out I may need to stay out here until sunrise. Or until I die. Whichever comes first.”
He doesn’t smile. Just leans his hip against the glass barrier and studies me, then the water, then me again. “I’ll walk you back to your room.”
My dignity is hanging by a thread, but it’s let him help me back or attempt to crawl, so I don’t fall over the edge, and I’m not crawling. “Promise you’re not going to take advantage of me.”
He stares at me, expression unreadable. Then, “I don’t do drunk women.”
I can’t tell if he’s joking, but he offers his arm anyway. I wrap my fingers around his forearm, trying not to focus on the muscle there. The yacht dips, my knees buckle, and before I can stop myself, my body collides into his. He just catches me, hands at my waist, and guides me upright.
“Oh my god,” I half laugh, half groan. “Could it get any worse?”
His lips twitch. “It could, you haven’t vomited yet. Don’t worry, I got you.”
He walks me down the hallways, catching my every stumble. “You always drink like this?” he asks.
“God, no. I’m barely allowed to eat food that isn’t perfectly prepared for me. I’m a dancer, my body has to be perfect, and so does my health. Alcohol doesn’t factor into that.”
