Full Steam Ahead (Sea Swept #1) (10 page)

“Hey there, let’s dance!” The voice belongs to Samantha, shimmying in a red backless dress, and I hesitate. She laughs. “Come on, Jace, I’m not asking you to lavalier me. Relax a little!”

That’s what I need, some fun and a way to write over the marks Georgia left on me last night. They’re not visible, but I can still feel every spot her lips touched my skin, every area her hands … God, I’ve got to stop this.
 

I follow Samantha onto the dance floor, and lose myself in the beat.

Or try. I keep looking around for Georgia, but she’s nowhere. Focusing on Samantha is impossible, and after a few minutes I realize my instincts are telling me I’m worried. Georgia wore the same kind of expression as she walked away from me that my mother used to have. Her dark days, the ones where she was at the end of her rope.

I stop dancing.

“I have to go find a friend,” I say. Samantha frowns, but I walk off the dance floor. A quick search of the ballroom inside yields no sign of Georgia, and I know she didn’t come back outside. Maybe she’s in our room. I dash downstairs, but the stateroom is empty. Figuring Georgia was just in the bathroom when I checked the party, I go back up to the ballroom.

No Georgia. But I spot Yasmin sitting by herself on a bench by the wall, so I make my way over.

“Hey, have you seen Georgia?” I ask.
 

Yasmin looks up at me and raises a brow.

“If I had, why would I tell you?”

“Because I’m asking?” I say. Yasmin’s expression doesn’t change. “What?”

She stands up, crossing her slim tanned arms over the front of her pink dress.

“I heard you made out with Georgia last night when she was super drunk. Classy.”

I frown. Yasmin and I don’t hang out, really, but she’s always been friendly before. Now, though, her attitude is definitely hostile. “What are you trying to say?” I ask. Georgia’s the one who jumped me, not the other way around.

“I think you know what I’m trying to say. Look, Georgia’s been having a tough fall. She doesn’t need you using her on top of everything.”

Using her? That’s really what Yasmin thinks of me? Hell, that’s probably what Georgia thinks of me too, I realize. And it’s my own fault, for letting the rumors fly instead of setting anyone straight. But I just hadn’t wanted to go into my family stuff with everyone, or explain where my dad is and why. I kept it to myself, so I guess I can’t complain that Yasmin and the others don’t know the real me.

It occurs to me that Georgia’s not the only one with walls up. In any case, Yasmin’s clearly not going to help me find Georgia. She also doesn’t seem that concerned, but … I frown. “Why are you sitting in here all by yourself?”

“Just needed a breather. See you later, Jace,” she says, and heads outside. I sigh in frustration, then look around. There are waiters scattered around the room, passing out drinks and clearing tables. Maybe they saw where Georgia went.

I walk up to one of the guys picking empties off a white tablecloth and describe Georgia to him, asking if he’s seen her.

“What is she wearing?” he asks. His English is accented, but I can understand him

“A long dress. It’s … blue. Light blue.” That’s all I’ve got. I can picture it on Georgia, hugging every curve and flashing leg unexpectedly with that high slit, but damned if I can describe it. The guy thinks, then shakes his head.

“Sorry. Hey, Elise, you got a sec?”

The fellow staffer he calls over is a blonde in a white blouse and black skirt. She’s carrying a clipboard, and wears a polite expression.

“Do you need some help, sir?” she asks me. The waiter answers.

“He’s looking for a girl in a light blue dress, brown hair. You seen her?”

Elise passes a cool glance over me, then tells the waiter he can go. He shrugs and heads off toward the back of the ballroom.

“Is her name Georgia?” Elise asks me, and I straighten. Finally.

“You’ve seen her?”

Elise cocks her head. “Maybe.”

“Where’d she go?”

“Elsewhere.” The girl looks a little amused. I try to stay polite.

“Can you be more specific?”

“Why do you want to find her?”

I could snap any number of things—that it’s none of her business, that Georgia’s my roommate, that isn’t it Elise’s job to help passengers, not question them—but what comes out winds up being the plain truth.

“I’m worried about her. I want to make sure she’s okay.”

Elise frowns a little. “She was fine when I left her.”

“Please show me where she is.” The girl just studies me, so I reach for my wallet and pull out a twenty. “Will this help?”

She hesitates for a long moment, then shakes her head. “Save your money. Follow me.”

Turning, she leads me through a staff door and into a maze of hallways. Down some stairs, through more hallways. Finally she points me down a long passage and steps aside.

“I have to get back to work, but take the second door on the right. That’s where I left her.”

She disappears, and I pace down the hallway to the second door on the right. I push it, and it swings silently open. I step outside into a sort of tropical garden blooming with flowers and trees. At the railing, silhouetted against the dark ocean, stands Georgia.

Something in my chest eases.

There. She’s fine. She hasn’t turned, so I guess she didn’t hear the door open or close. I’m not sure what to do now, and I’m feeling a little silly. Why did I waste my time tracking her down? She didn’t want to talk to me earlier, and won’t want to see me now.
 

I’ll go, I think, but instead I stand there, watching her stare off into the darkness outside the ship’s lights.
 

She’s gorgeous. Even now, when she’s lost too much weight to be healthy. My hands want to touch her everywhere, the way they nearly got to last night. The skin of her back and waist felt like hot silk, and the memory is enough to make me start to get hard.

Her figure is swathed in icy blue, her hair pinned tightly up to reveal the elegant curve of her neck, and I let my eyes roam freely. One moment, and then I’ll go. But as I’m starting to turn away, ready to leave her to her solitude if that is what she wants, I see her lean over the railing. Almost too far over.

I pause, something in my gut tightening. If she’s trying to jump over, she’s not doing a great job, but if she keeps stretching like that, she’s going to overbalance. I want to leap over and grab her away, pull her to safety, but if she's not in trouble she's going to think I'm an ass.

Georgia goes up on her tiptoes in her heels, and then one foot leaves the deck. That's it—I don’t care anymore if she thinks I’m an ass; I’m not chancing some horrible accident. I dash across the deck, seize her about the waist, and haul backward. We stumble together away from the railing as she falls into me. She twists in my grasp and I feel her try to push me away, but I keep hold of her. When she sees it's me who's got her, she stops struggling, instead blinking up at me in confusion.

“What the hell are you doing?” My voice comes out loud and harsh. Georgia winces, but I don’t care. She scared the shit out of me.

“Just trying to touch the water,” she says, then frowns in confusion, as if she hears how strange that sounds.

“Trying to kill yourself, you mean?”
 

“No, of course not. Just trying to reach the spray.” She falters over the last words.

“You were about to fall," I say, and her gaze slides away from mine.

“How did you even find me?” she asks, but I'm not going to be distracted.

“Were you trying to jump?”

“Don’t be silly.”

I let go of her arms to take hold of her face, to turn her head so she's forced to meet my gaze again. Her blue eyes, exactly the color of her icy dress, are wide.

“Tell me the truth, for once in your life.”
 

Georgia’s hands are on my chest as if to push me away, but then she goes still, seeming to consider my question.
 

“No,” she finally says. “At least, I don’t think so. I’m just … dizzy.”
 

Beneath my grip, her limbs put up no resistance, and I eye her closely. She looks ill.

“Are you sick, or did you just not eat anything today? Besides alcohol, I mean.” I don’t wait for her answer. I pull her gently toward the door leading back into the ship, but she digs in her heels, and damned if Miss Dizzy doesn’t have the strength to stop us both.

“I’m fine. I’m just—”

I can’t stand it anymore; she’s just so infuriatingly set on lying her ass off to my face, and I grab her shoulders with both hands.

“Georgia, I swear to God, if you don’t come with me right now …”

“You're going to what?"
 

Good question. She's so damn stubborn, but getting angry won't bring down her walls. I hadn't even realized until recently that I wanted to get through those walls, but no matter how much of a fuss she puts up, I am not going to let her pretend she’s okay when she clearly is not. Georgia's been in a downward spiral for months, and no one seems to notice but me. Maybe it’s not my problem, maybe I shouldn’t get involved, but I can’t help myself. I can’t sit by anymore and watch her pain.

I hold out a hand, palm up. “Come with me,” I say quietly.

She looks at my hand, then searches my gaze.

"Why?" she says softly.

"Trust me."

Georgia studies me for a long moment in the starlight, considering. I don't move, don't rush her. Just wait.
 

Finally she slips her hand in mine, and I lead her inside.

Chapter 10

Georgia

Jace takes me back through the staff hallway. A couple times we pass crew members, but Jace just gives them confident nods, and they don’t ask what we’re doing there.

The shock of what almost might have happened is like a splash of icy water, and I hope we're not going back to the party. I don't want to do that, don't want to have to pretend to be fine. I want to go sleep. I’m a little scared, because though I don’t feel suicidal, I want tonight and this whole year to be behind me. Tomorrow is soon enough to face reality.

What might have happened, if Jace hadn’t found me? He’s right that there’s nothing in my stomach but bile sloshing around with too much champagne. I feel clear now, but I can tell I’m still buzzed because my lips are numb. Besides, a sober person doesn’t try to reach waves fifty feet below. What the hell was I thinking? If I’d lost my balance …
 

Jace might have saved my life. It’s not much of a life, right now, with all my mistakes and stupid decisions, but it is mine, and I am glad I haven’t lost it. Thanks to Jace.
 

I owe him, big time.

My legs are tired. All of me is tired, and if Jace weren’t at my side I’d have collapsed a while ago. His hand is warm and firm, and I keep hold of it like a lifeline as he leads me back into the passenger areas. Soon we’re ducking into the 24-hour pizza cafe tucked into a nook along the inside of the promenade. I’m not hungry, but I’m grateful for the cushioned booth where Jace directs me, so I don’t protest.

“Wait there,” he says, settling me on the bench before disappearing. I lay my head down on the table, but just as I’m fading into blessed sleep Jace sits down next to me, nudging me over with his hip.

“Drink this.” He puts a glass of water in front of me, along with a plate of pizza. It smells hot and delicious and cheesy, and I want to devour it. But I know better. I don’t want to throw up again tonight.

At the sight of the water, though, I realize how epically thirsty I am. The glass is cold and slippery, but I suck water through the straw until my stomach is chilled through. I feel a little more alert. Revived. Still thirsty. I drink more water, and by the time the glass is empty, I find I have the strength to sit up properly.

Jace gets up to refill the glass. As he walks back with two, I’m struck by how great he looks in his suit. I look away as he settles next to me again.
 

“You were dehydrated,” he observes, handing my glass back over.

I lick my lips, which have finally regained some feeling. “Yeah, I guess.”

“And I’m betting you have nothing in your stomach.”

 
“I ate dinner,” I say.

“Did you get ‘seasick’ afterward again?”

I stiffen, feeling my cheeks redden with guilt. To cover, I fling him a furious glance. “No,” I say, but I can tell by his expression that he doesn’t buy it.

“Bullshit.” Jace turns toward me, stretching his left arm out on the top of the booth’s back; his right elbow leans on the table. I can feel his stare. I’m grateful for what he did outside, but the familiar shame rises up to swallow me, and I’m angry at him for … I don’t know. Noticing how fucked-up I am, I guess.

“Go away,” I say, though it comes out quiet. “Please.”

“Not until you eat some of this.” Jace nudges the plate of cheesy goodness toward me. I shake my head. “Look, I’m bigger than you, and until you eat something, you’re not going anywhere.”

I scowl and glance around for an escape, but on one side is the wall, and on the other is Jace. I’m trapped. I could slide under the table and try to get out that way, but even the thought makes me tired. “You’re being a bully.”

“That’s hardly the worst thing you’ve called me this trip.” He nods at the plate of pizza. “Don’t be shy. I like a girl with an appetite.”
 

“I can’t,” I say miserably, and wait for him to scoff. But he doesn’t, only looks at me steadily.

“Why not?” he says, and there’s something in his eyes so gentle that I can’t stand it. I know he’s not going to let me off the hook like Hunter always did. Jace isn't someone I can fool. I take a shaky breath.

“Because I’ll throw it up, okay?”

Jace touches my arm. “Why?”

“Because I can’t keep it down,” I admit. “I can’t keep anything down.”

“Please try. For me.”

“Why would I do anything for you?”

“Because I’m asking.”

That simultaneously frightens and warms me. I can’t let him get close, but God, it feels nice to have someone care about me. I don’t know why Jace cares, but he does for some reason. He’s more worried for me than my parents are. More than Hunter ever was.