Full Steam Ahead (Sea Swept #1) (7 page)

Surprisingly, Kelsey puts me with her group, with Quinn rounding out our trio. We get our clubs and brightly-colored golf balls—mine is green—and step up to the first hole, which features a crazy-looking octopus sculpture. Despite the distracting creature, it’s a straight shot, and Kelsey starts us off strong by managing a hole in one. I slap on a smile and clap my hands as she jumps up and down in excitement.

When it’s my turn, I manage to hit par at two strokes, earning mild praise. My hand-eye coordination isn’t the best, but as the afternoon wears on—thank goodness Jessica lets me borrow her sunscreen—I manage not to totally suck.

“Yeah, Chloe!” we hear as our group finishes up at the eighth hole of the fifteen hole course. Everyone turns to see several of the Alpha guys hanging over the railing that separates the mini-golf course from the surrounding deck. Chloe’s boyfriend Pete is grinning, and I glance over to see Chloe, two holes behind us, sink down into the curtsy she usually does after one of her theater shows. I guess she got a hole in one or something.

Beside Pete, Jace is dressed in a gray polo that hugs his arms just right. A warm tingle climbs up my spine when I remember how he wrapped those arms around me last night. His hands on my waist, his lips hot on mine … All of a sudden, Jace looks right at me, and I hastily turn away.
 

“Jace is checking you out,” Quinn says with a broad smile. “Did you guys hook up last night? Because we totally spotted you two kissing at the club.” Kelsey nods, and I want to die.

“No, we didn’t hook up,” I say, swallowing a groan. I knew I wasn’t going to get away without some humiliation.

“Aw, too bad.” Quinn looks disappointed.

“Why is that too bad?” I ask, but she shrugs.

“No reason. So is he a good kisser?”

“I don’t really remember,” I lie. Parts of last night might be hazy, but I remember every detail of kissing Jace. Of his mouth on my throat, of his lean torso against mine.
 

We’re right by a drink cart—because of course there’s a bar here; I swear there are more bars on this ship than on College Ave.—and Kelsey buys two sweet teas. I think one must be for Quinn, since they’re best friends, but instead Kelsey hands a glass to me.

“You must be parched, Georgia! Here you go.” She’s wearing her pageant smile as she presses the glass into my hand, which makes me wonder what she wants. That’s the thing about Kelsey. She’ll roll out the red carpet for you … but only if you give her something in return.
 

“Thanks,” I say cautiously, and take a sip. Cool liquid eases down my throat. Kelsey and I watch as one of the Theta girls makes her putt.

“Are you having a good time so far?” Kelsey asks. “I’m
really
glad that you decided to come.”
 

“Yeah … me too.”
 

 
“And I’m glad you’re over Hunter, which clearly you are if you’re making out with other guys,” she says. I don’t know what to say to that, so I only stand there. Kelsey puts a hand on my arm. “Look, Georgia, we’re sorority sisters, and that means a lot to me. You know I care about you, right?”

“Of course.” The glass of tea chills my hand. Now I know why Kelsey put me in her group: so she could corner me about Hunter. I dread what she’ll say.

“I thought I should give you a heads up that Hunter and I are … hanging out. We’re sort of together. Just so you know.”
 

I’m glad I have my sunglasses on, because I don’t want Kelsey to see the look on my face. What did she mean by ‘sort of together’? Did they hook up last night? Were they getting together in Hunter’s fabulous suite while I was getting rejected by Jace McSleeps-With-Everyone? But I don’t ask, because Kelsey is giving me her Miss Teen Alabama look, the one with steel behind the smile. The one that says you’d better be okay with this, you’d better not make a scene, because sisterhood or no sisterhood, you are not getting in my way.

Honestly, I don’t have the energy to try. I wait for the fury to tear through me. I wait for my lips to spew out horrible things. But mostly I feel numb. Besides, I don’t have the right to get mad at Hunter. Or Kelsey.
 

“Okay,” I say, because Kelsey is waiting for me to say it.
 

“I didn’t want you to hear it, you know, through the grapevine.”

“Thanks for thinking of me,” I hear myself say.

Kelsey beams. Either she didn’t catch my sarcasm or she’s determined to ignore it. “So we’re good then?”
 

I nod.
 

“That’s great!” She relaxes, that steel behind her smile subsiding. “Oh look, my turn.” She waltzes onto the putting course and sidesteps a fiberglass shark. I sort of wish it would bite her.

“Hey there,” I hear behind me. It’s a low, masculine voice that makes my muscles tighten. Jace. I remember his breath, hot and sweet, in my ear, but the wash of anticipation is followed quickly by shame. My face feels on fire. I told him I wanted to be a notch on his
post
, for crying out loud.
 

My feet take me around the stone edging of the mini-golf green, away from him, before I can think twice.

Chapter 7

Jace
 

“Damn, that didn’t go well,” Andy observes gleefully. “She ran away from you!”

I’m standing on the mini-golf course, feeling like an idiot. Andy’s right—Georgia literally ran in the opposite direction to escape me.
 

“Wonderful,” I mutter. But what did I expect, really? Lady Cantwell found me fun enough to hang out with last night, but that was when she was desperate. And then, later, drunk. In the sunny light of the Caribbean day, she’s obviously thought better of hooking up with me.

Which is exactly why I stopped last night, but damn, it stings.

“Maybe you kiss like a manatee,” Andy suggests helpfully. He saw us on the dance floor last night, so I told him a little of what happened. He’s carrying a bag of pretzels, and he tosses one in the air before catching it in his mouth and crunching down.

“Maybe she’s heard too many of those stupid stories you guys always tell about me,” I counter. I visit my mom and sister almost every weekend, so I miss a lot of events. The Alpha guys are cool about it, but razz me by competing to see who can come up with the wildest “What Jace does with his weekends” story to tell the girls they meet. Apparently, I’ve slept my way through Baxter’s entire girl’s soccer team, among other things. I don’t care, usually, because I don’t want a girlfriend. So it shouldn’t bother me that Georgia obviously wants nothing to do with me sober.
 

But it does.

“Oh well. More fish in the sea, right?” Grinning, Andy nods to a couple of Richmond State Theta girls. “What about those fish?” He waves, and a cute redhead waves back.

One of the cruise ship’s staff members comes over. “Gentlemen, are you two part of a mini-golf group?” He probably saw us hop the knee-height stone wall that separates the course from the rest of the deck, because he continues without waiting for our answer. “If you’d like to play, I could sign you up over at the check-in desk.”

“Maybe later,” I say, and Andy and I jump the stone wall again. The Theta girl who’d waved at us abandons her mini-golf tournament to hop the wall too and chat with Andy. I make occasional contributions to the conversation, but mostly I watch for Georgia.

There she is, returning from the direction of the bathrooms. She rejoins Kelsey’s group, and putts a green golf ball through a maze of frolicking fake dolphins. She’s wearing a flowing black dress, and her auburn hair is twisted up atop her head. The ocean breeze melds the fabric of her dress against her back and butt, and I feel my body respond.

Maybe I was an idiot for stopping our hookup last night … except that I know firsthand from my parents how drugs or alcohol can turn you into a different person. The one time my mom managed to kick my dad out of the house without any of us getting injured, she wound up taking him back and letting him move in again after she’d had several beers too many. I remember the remorse in her eyes when she realized she’d let our nightmare back in the house. I don’t want anyone to look at me that way, ever. Especially not Georgia.

Though her ignoring me doesn’t feel great, either. I only wanted to talk; she doesn’t have to treat me like I’ve got a contagious disease.
 

Whatever. If she wants to be her usual prissy, snooty self, I don’t want anything to do with her.
 

I try really hard to convince myself of that, but my body won’t forget how amazing she felt in my arms. How she tasted, how her tongue slipped around mine. When she tried to unbuckle my belt, I nearly lost control. I could have had her right there against the wall, hidden by that potted plant. My lower regions go tight just thinking about it, about how she’d feel, and I mentally curse and force myself to stop torturing myself.

But I can’t stop from glancing at her surreptitiously. Georgia’s limbs are stiff as she finishes out her game of mini-golf. Her sunglasses hide her eyes, and the rest of her expression never changes as Kelsey and the other sorority president tally up the scores. When it’s revealed that our Kappas won, Georgia slaps high fives with Yasmin and Parker, but her smile looks fake. Remembering her genuine joy as we toured the gallery yesterday, I wonder for the millionth time what her deal is.

Why did she get so jumpy at the gallery yesterday? Why did she say she’d cry if she weren’t drunk, and why did she practically jump my bones at the club? I mean, alcohol, obviously, but … why me? With her short black skirt and sweet bare shoulders, she looked great last night. She could have had any guy there.

But she chose me. Why? And is she mad that I didn’t follow through last night? She seemed pretty pissed when I left the room, but she must understand that I didn’t want to take advantage of her. Right?

The breeze plays with the hem of Georgia’s dress as she and Yasmin saunter towards the stairs to the Lido Deck, and I crane my head to watch her go.
 

~ ~ ~

Later, I am sprawled on my bed in my gray suit, playing a train puzzle game on my phone. Next to me sits a folded towel seal, courtesy of Housekeeping.
 

Tonight is the big New Year’s Eve party on board. It starts with a formal banquet in the dining room; the Kappas and Alphas all signed up for the later of the two seating times, because then we can roll right over to the ballroom-slash-pool party. There’s going to be a live band, flowing champagne, the works.

I check the clock and pause my game. It’s nearly time for dinner, but so far Georgia has yet to make an appearance to change into her gown. I know she hasn’t already because her dress bag is still hanging in the corner closet nook.

Just as I’m about to give up on my plan, the door opens and Georgia slips in. She’s still wearing her black sundress from earlier, and pieces of her auburn hair have escaped from her ponytail to curl around her neck.

“You’ve been ducking me,” I say calmly, and Georgia starts. I bet she was hoping I wouldn’t still be here. There’s a split-second of shock before her lips stretch into a polite smile.

“Oh, hi Jace.”

I sit up, putting my feet on the floor next to my black dress shoes.

“Hi, Georgie.”

She doesn’t even nag me about the nickname. “Great, you’re already dressed. Can I have the room? I need to shower and change for dinner; I’m already late to meet Yasmin. Would you mind?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

She hesitates, then breezes past me to the closet nook where her dress waits. “Do I need to apologize to you for last night? Because I totally don’t remember anything.”

That makes me pause. “You don’t remember anything?”

She seems to think about it, brow furrowed.

“I mean, I remember the art gallery, but once we got to the club Yasmin gave me a rum drink and I don’t remember much after that.” She cocks her head. “Did I get sloppy?”

“Sort of.” I don’t know what to say now. Maybe she didn’t hear me on the mini-golf course earlier. And if she really doesn’t remember making out with me last night, I should be a gentleman and pretend it didn’t happen. That … sucks, honestly, but it’s not like I can
make
her remember groping me enthusiastically.

Georgia shoots me an apologetic smile.

“So sorry. It won’t happen again, roomie. Promise.” She holds up her dress. “I really do have to get ready, though. See you up there?”

Without waiting for my answer, she turns to the dresser. I’ve let her use all four drawers, because I don’t mind living out of my suitcase. Thrown because this conversation is not going like I’d expected, I watch her rummage for various items.
 

Then I frown. She’s too determined to ignore me, to play the polite Lady Cantwell. It doesn’t sit right, doesn’t ring true. I realize that although she’s looked in my direction, she hasn’t actually met my gaze since she came into the room.

“Bullshit,” I decide. Georgia glances up.

“What?”

Standing, I pad over to her—it only takes two steps—and stare down into her blue eyes. They’re wide pools, and she flicks her gaze down across my face, to my shoulders, and back up. I can see the pulse in her throat speed up a little, and her cheeks have a touch of red where a moment ago they were pale. I recognize that look from last night; she still wants me.

“You do remember,” I say.

“I … I really don’t.”

I let out a frustrated breath. “Do you ever tell the truth?”

“Excuse me?” Her dress is draped over one arm, and in the other hand she holds a pink polka-dot satchel, maybe a makeup bag or such, between us like a shield.

“Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t remember us kissing last night.” Reaching out, I stroke her wrist, which trembles. I smile. “Or maybe I should remind you?”

She smacks me with the polka-dot satchel.
 

“Maybe not. Gross, Jace. Get a grip.”

Okay, maybe she wants me, but she doesn’t
want
to want me. I drop my hand.

“What, so now that you’re sober, I’m not good enough to talk to again?”