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“Oh yeah, it’s cute, right?” she says with a sneaking smile.
I try not to let my frustration be visible as we close in on the steward. “What happened to the wardrobe I got you?”
“Relax, it’s packed,” Stella says. “I just got off an international flight. I wanted to be comfortable.”
I glance down at her ridiculous purple suitcase. “You could have changed in the airport. I want you to make a good impression.”
Stella snorts in laughter. “Wow, are you telling me I don’t look nice?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m telling you.” It’s not fair of me to say, but it’s true. In other circumstances, I would say she looks… well, I’d never describe Stella as beautiful for fear of being castrated by her brother, but there is something about her au naturelle look that’s always made me look a little too long at her. “Stella, these people are piranhas. If you’re not up to date with your fashion, your tech, your politics, they’re going to eat you alive.”
She smirks. “Flynn, do you trust me?”
I take a pause.
“You trust me enough to be your girlfriend for two weeks,” she says in a voice low enough for only me to hear over the wheels of our suitcases. “Right?”
“I guess that’s true.”
Stella slows down as we approach the boat steward, a bold grin creeping over her lips to greet them. “Then trust me when I say that I can handle myself.”
“Wait, wait, wait –” I stop just short of the steward being able to greet us. “This isn’t aboutyouStella. This is about me. I’m trying to make a good impression on…” I gesture to the boat and stop speaking. “You know?”
Stella’s hazel eyes glint and she cocks her head to the side, a few curls falling askew. “Why are you so hung up on her?”
“I’m not hung up,” I whisper.
“Well, you care an awful lot about what she thinks of you,” Stella retorts, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning into her hip.
“I care what everyone thinks about me.”
“That’s not true and you know it.”
Her words hit me like a ton of bricks. Stella is not shy about being direct and to the point. She also knows how to cut right to the heart of the matter without really considering if someone is ready to acknowledge the truth.
“She left you, Flynn. She embarrassed you. And you… why do you care about what she thinks? She’s a bad person.”
I feel an impulse to defend Adelaide, but I hold my tongue. I don’t want this conversation to continue any longer. “Come on, we have a boat to catch.”
Stella sighs. “Alright. Let’s do this.”
We are greeted by the crew who have been idling, waiting for us to wade through our bullshit so they can greet us. After the crew takes our bags, the steward directs us up the long gangplank. It feels like I’m entering the underworld. A beautiful, blissful façade.
On the deck, we are greeted by another stew and the captain, an older man with white hair and a matching beard. “Captain Karakas,” he says with a light Grecian lilt. “Welcome aboard the Thessalonica.”
The stew gives us both glasses of champagne. “Everyone is on the aft deck,” she explains with a gesture down the length of the boat.
We thank her and then head down the deck.
“Take my arm,” Stella says, slipping her hand into the crook of my elbow.
I don’t say anything, chewing on the inside of my lower lip, trying to decide what I’m going to say when I see Adelaide again. I’ve gone through this moment over and over since I accepted the invitation. And it’s never gone right in my head.
“Don’t be nervous,” Stella murmurs like she can read my mind. “You look great, you’ve got a cute girl on your arm, and you’re literally a billionaire. What’s she got? Legs for days? So what?”
I laugh despite my nerves. I guess all of those things are true, although I didn’t know that Stella thought I looked great too.
That feels nicer than it should.
