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“You don’t want to sleep with old ladies,” I say.
He gives a rueful shake of his head. “Probably not.”
We shift forward, stepping into a lower section of the enormous ship. In no time, we’re dragging our cases through endless halls and down many levels. Staff quarters are located far below the best decks that are reserved for guests. As his plus one, my room is near his.
“What number’s yours?” I ask as I pace behind him. We pass aliens of all varieties, crew like Jarrn, and I can’t wait to get to know them all. Research, Jarrn calls it. Character development to me.
He stops and consults his comm. “110.”
“And mine?”
He shrugs. “I assume it’s nearby. 111 or oh-nine. You must’ve gotten a notification on your comm.”
Hmm. There’s nothing in my digital mailbox. I send a query to Elverna, the alien who made all the arrangements, and await her reply.
Jarrn moves forward again, and I half-jog beside him, trying to keep up with his long strides. At five-nine, I’m of average human height, but when compared to an ogre like Jarrn, I’m petite. He not only towers well above me, his legs have to be one-and-a-half the length of mine.
He stops outside 110 and swipes his clawed thumb on the discreet panel beside the door. It opens, and he steps inside. I note a decent-sized bed–for me. It’ll be snug for Jarrn. Other than that, there’s a small bureau and a door that must lead to his bathroom. At least he doesn’t need to share.
At a ping of my comm, I lift my wrist, squinting at the number of the room I’m assigned.
110. That’s . . . Jarrn’s room number.
“Hold on,” I say, struggling to breathe. “We’ve got a problem.”
Chapter3
Jarrn
My first thought,this isn’t happening, is immediately followed by the realization that of course it is. Everything that’s happened since the first moment I laid eyes on Delia has been a disaster. There’s no reason this should be any different.
We go through the motions, contacting Elverna, the female who made the arrangements, then escalating to her boss as well as the staff of theJeweled Empress. Every one of them is terribly sorry. In fact, they all use that exact phrase as if it’s in some handbook.
Each of them puts us on interminable hold as they check and re-check the manifest, then again they tell us how terribly sorry they are before they reaffirm there isn’t one spare room on the entire cruise ship.
We wait, at first standing, then with me sitting on the edge of the small bed while she perches on the only chair in the room, and finally, with both of us lying down after deciding we might as well get comfortable.
“It’s not too late to escape, Delia. You can go back to the gangway, make your way to the port, and go home. I’m sure you don’t want to be crammed into this tiny room with me for the next three months.”
“Well…” She’s considering my offer. Certainly even married couples would hate this arrangement–two people in a cabin built for one. There’s no way she would want to stay here with me. She’s got to write. She won’t even be able to do that because of the lack of privacy in this tiny room. “Maybe I should–” She’s interrupted by an overhead comm to our cabin.
“Miss Hawkins? This is ensign Phlaprock. We believe we’ve located the problem. I think I’ve secured an upgraded cabin on an upper deck. Give me a few more minutes.”
I’m almost disappointed to hear this. I think Delia was just about to admit defeat and leave. It would be for the best. I asked her to accompany me in a moment of weakness because I enjoy her company. It was incredibly selfish of me.
After that last comm, she’s going to hang in here waiting for a room. That’s okay. If she has her own cabin we can maintain our friendship and have fun on our off time, just as we’d planned.
When I think about being on this cruise without her, it hits me just how much I enjoy her company. I’d hate to do this alone. Maybe this will work out after all.
A moment later, I wonder what in the halls of Amnon I’m thinking. She doesn’t really want to be here with me. It’s her guilt that’s driving her to go on this cruise. Like I’m some charity case or something.
I’m sure she has better things to do than hold my hand while I work out my changed circumstances. Monsters in Review. Before my scarring, I wouldn’t have qualified for that title. I was considered good-looking for my species.
When the deep rumble of the ship’s engines vibrates as they spring to life, we look at each other.
“You should leave. It’s obvious they’re just stringing you along. Let me carry your luggage to the gangway.”
“Yeah. You’re right.” Her voice is reluctant. I’m not certain if it’s because she thinks I need her, or… certainly it’s not because she wants to stay here with me. No one as beautiful, fun, and smart as her would want to spend a minute with me if she didn’t feel guilty as hell about causing my injuries.
