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2 Shiro Brooks
I rolled my suitcase up the smooth concrete ramp, the sun shining into my eyes as I looked up to try and admire the cruise ship. I flicked down my sunglasses, instantly feeling some relief.
The ship towered above us in all its seventeen-deck glory. It was a modern marvel of science and the newest cruise ship to be sailing anywhere in the world. The paint job was a modern work of art, with bold red and blue lines that cut across the side of the ship, underneath the rows and rows of glass windows and balconies that made it almost seem as if the ship were a floating Apple Store.
A line started to form and curl in front of me as people were shuffled through the security checkpoint, leading into a large waiting area since it was still too early to board the ship. I looked around, knowing I wouldn’t see any of my friends yet, but still hoping I’d catch a familiar smile.
We haven’t all been together in years.
I was excited about this cruise, even if the past few weeks had been one hell of a ride getting here.
No dwelling on the bullshit, though. This trip was about reuniting with old friends during the one season absolutely made for reunions. Which worked especially well since the cruise was advertised as a holiday wonderland. The entire ship was said to have been transformed for the holidays, from a giant stuffed polar bear wearing sunglasses by the pool to a snow pit where you could go and make snow angels after drinking a margarita. There were holiday-themed shows and dance clubs, along with a crazy sweater party and a sexy Santa dance-off. Apparently, there was even a “blizzard” foam party planned.
Needless to say, I had signed up real quick when I saw the ad. Thankfully my friends were all on board for the trip, too. Ever since we scattered across the globe after graduating college, it had been hard to all be in the same spot, but these next three weeks were about to fix all that.
I inched forward in line. My shoulders, tense all this past week, were finally relaxed. I took in a deep breath of the ocean air. Miami never got cold, but today was a little on the chillier side. At seventy-one, native Miamians were pulling out their scarves and mittens.
A commotion from behind me drew my attention. I leaned out of the line and glanced at the source of two loud, overly excited voices.
“That’s him, that’s him, that’s totally him,” one of the girls was saying, almost shouting. She had a death grip on her friend’s elbow, which I could see was beginning to lose color.
“Is it?” the one in danger of losing her arm asked.
One of the boys they were with just shouts, “Are you that Avenger guy?”.
The girl with the loose ponytail shook her head, her cheeks turning a bright cherry red. “Not from Avengers. The brother. Liam. You’re Liam Hemsworth?”
I looked to see who they were talking to and spot someone who had to have been a celebrity, and if they weren’t, then they were working in the wrong field.
The man wore a simple, all-black outfit, with clean white sneakers and a watch with a worn leather band. He had a black hat on his head, the lip of it brought down so that the top half of his face was concealed in shadow.
The lower half, though. Duh-damn. That was more than enough for me. He had a little bit of well-taken-care-of scruff, trimmed to the skin at his Adam’s apple and down. His lips were drawn into an entertained smirk, slanting in the same way his jawline did.
“No,” I heard him say. “I’m no one.”
The dad of the two girls picked up on the situation. He apologized and brought the girls back to their spot in line, which they had apparently jumped to try and get a better look at the mystery “no one.” I didn’t blame them either.
“Excuse me, sir, the line’s moving.”
“Oh shoot, sorry,” I said, turning and realizing I had been standing still while a good four-foot gap formed in the line as people shuffled forward. I made sure not to slip on the drool that had pooled at my feet.
Clearly, I was a little boy-crazy, which I shouldn’t be considering that the guy I’d been dating for the past year broke up with me because he saw a documentary on a religion dedicated to the Rolling Stones and decided to go join it. When I said “abso-fucking-lutely not” to joining when he asked, he said he understood but that we wouldn’t be able to stay together. I had thought it was an elaborate prank for a good half hour, until I realized he was being fully serious.
