Going Nowhere (A Romantic Comedy Novella) (6 page)

Since it was still early, the dessert buffet wasn’t that busy. This was very good thing. And if Max loved chocolate as much as he said he did, he would turn a blind eye to the excessive way I planned to pile my plate. As I was admiring a four-layer fudge cake, a sea of red blocked my vision.

Max pulled me to one side before I got trampled by a loud-speaking Hispanic woman in a scarlet t-shirt. Then I realized it was a whole group of people in red shirts. The one in front was carrying a small flag. I fell behind, so I turned to Max, who was still faithfully by my side. “What is this‌—‌an invasion?”

Max nodded. “South American tour group.”

Grimacing, I tried to get closer. The group was crowding the table and we were going to have to wait until they all moved through it before getting our chance. After trying to squeeze my way in three times, I stood and waited.

Then, when I finally saw an opening and thought I’d be able to touch the edge of the table with my outstretched fingers, I lurched forward. I squeezed in between the last member of the tour group and two eight year olds. I pulled Max with me and exhaled a triumphant breath. “We made it!”

Max was looking down at the table and frowning. “I don’t think so.”

I followed his gaze past the sneeze guard to the counter that should have been covered in delectable delights, but was actually barren and picked over. More like a desert than a dessert. The tour group had torn apart the buffet like a ravenous mass of turkey buzzards.

Max leaned forward. “I think I see some fresh fruit over there.”

“That’s not funny, Max.” Visions of rich cocoa concoctions swimming in my head quickly dissipated like the froth on a weak cappuccino. “Maybe we should forget about it. By the time they refill everything...”

He sighed. “You’re right. I suppose patience is a quality neither one of us has an abundance of.”

“
C’est la vie
.”

“I hope you’re not too disappointed. We could find another dessert place. There are tons of them on the ship,” Max said as we navigated our way back out of the crowd. He placed his hand lightly on my lower back.

I flinched reflexively and he immediately backed off.

Darn. “That’s okay,” I said. “I think I’m going to call it a night.”

“What are you doing tomorrow?” he casually asked.

I slowed my pace. “I’ll probably work on my tan. You?”

“Don’t know. I think Sam has something planned, but I’m not sure what.”

Even though we were surrounded by people, the sudden silence hanging between us was an excruciating assault on my comfort level. I took a step backwards. “Maybe April and I can join you?”

“What is your cabin number?”

I rooted through my purse for a pen and a piece of paper. I settled for lip liner and an old Starbucks receipt. “Let me write it down for you.”

He accepted the small, crumpled piece of register paper. “Thanks. I’ll call you.”

“Sure.” I backed away, trying not to look pleased. It had been difficult for me to invite myself along. That wasn’t like me. “Night, Max.”

He walked away without looking back.

I sighed and wondered which eating establishment I could raid for some chocolate. I’d already mentally catalogued most of them. There was a café on the promenade that had cookies and lattes. I could even retreat to my cabin and get something through room service. April had planned to hang out in the ship’s nightclub and I thought maybe I should join her, but I couldn’t do it. If this trip was also going to serve as my vacation, I didn’t want to be in a club right then. Honestly, what I really wanted was to get out of these tight pants, kick off my shoes, and sit in bed in my pajamas while eating cookies, drinking tea, and reading a good book.

Room service it was.

I woke in the middle of the night after rolling off my bed and hitting the floor. It was probably the first time in my life I wished I had
more
cushioning on my rear end.

Rubbing my bruised tailbone in the pitch-black stateroom, I tried to get up, but everything was shrouded in darkness. To make matters worse, I’d either contracted food poisoning... or the ship was rocking like a weeble wobble.

“April? You in here?”

There was no response. I had no idea what time it was, but I hoped April hadn’t gotten herself into too much trouble. I shivered violently and hugged my knees to my chest. The sound of the air conditioner whooshed through my ears. I reached up to feel for my mattress, but I’d obviously rolled farther than I thought when I’d fallen out of bed. I felt something, followed its curve with my hand, and quickly realized it was a chair.

Great. Now all I had to do was remember where the bed was in relation to the chair. Shouldn’t be too hard. The bed was, after all, the largest object in the room. If I started walking, I’d probably run into it.

I stumbled onto my feet, then swayed drunkenly. The rocking of the ship wasn’t such that it would knock me over‌—‌not by a long shot‌—‌but in some ways it was worse. I picked a direction, which was kind of like trying to dig my way out of an avalanche, and started walking.

Maybe I did have a hangover. Maybe April hadn’t cleaned out her shampoo bottle well enough. Also, sun and alcohol could do nasty things to a person‌—‌Kate’s Spring Break Party 2000 when I had sex with the bartender in the ladies’ bathroom was just one embarrassing example. I wished April would stop bringing it up.

I took another blind step.
Yow! What the hell was that?
I bent over to clutch my aching leg and banged my head on something else. I guess I could safely conclude that that wasn’t the bed. I hopped on my good leg, gingerly rubbing the lump on my noggin. I held my other hand out in front of me to make sure I didn’t walk into anything else.

“April!” I yelled again for good measure, in case she hadn’t heard me the first time. No, she must still be at the club.

Limping, I continued to explore blindly. Then I touched something scratchy with my outstretched hand. Perfect. It was the wall. Except that I didn’t remember it being textured. I leaned against the wall and yawned, picturing my bed at home. It was safe and warm, with mismatched linens and flattened pillows. I would never take it for granted again. I considered dropping to the floor and spending the night in the fetal position wherever I landed.

Then I discovered another problem. I had to pee. Badly. I’d left the light on in the bathroom for that very reason. I spun around until I saw what I was looking for: a dark rectangle with a thin slit of light beneath.

I charged forward... well, as much as a person with a fractured shin and lumpy head could charge. Once I reached the door, I exhaled hotly against the raised wooden panes. I’d made it through the darkness with most of my limbs intact.

I yanked open the door and stumbled inside. It was so bright compared to the rest of the room that for a few moments everything was a blurry, white fog. The door swung shut, bumping me in the butt and catapulting me into the
en suite
.

Bathroom doors didn’t usually shut automatically, did they?

My eyes started to adjust and I immediately squeezed them shut again. No, this was
not
happening. It was just a nasty, horrible dream. Soon my high school math teacher would tap me on the shoulder and ask me to calculate the square root of pi while hopping on one foot.

I opened my eyes a slit and saw another door in front of me. No sink, no toilet, no circular shower with a cute, rounded door. Just another door, a keycard reader, and a number. Crap!

Maybe‌—‌

I spun and around and tried the handle to my room. Maybe it hadn’t shut correctly; maybe the back of my nightgown was caught in the frame. I rattled the handle, pulled it violently, sent all my weight careening into it. None of those clever ideas worked.

I was locked out of my room.

I looked down at my body, knowing exactly what I’d see. I was wearing the oldest nightgown I possessed, the one with the faded kitty cat stretched across the chest and an old hot chocolate stain on the hem. If I had to be locked out of my room, why couldn’t I be wearing a sexy Victoria’s Secret pajama set?

Problem two: I was braless, and my dark nipples poked through the thin cotton nightshirt like twin mountain peaks. Three: I wasn’t wearing any make-up. Maybe I should commit to having my ‘face’ on at all times in the event of a fire... or stupidity.

At least my legs were shaved‌—‌not a common enough occurrence, I can tell you. The nightshirt wasn’t as long as it should be, so the fact that I didn’t have a hair field sprouting on my legs was a comforting thing. Though‌—‌

Oh my god. I grabbed the ends of the shirt and pulled them down as far as I could. I wasn’t wearing any panties. I couldn’t believe I’d chosen this night, of all nights, to go commando. I waddled down the hall, holding my shirt down. It made my boobs look flattened and possibly even more visible. There was no good way to go about this.

I reached the elevator without seeing anyone. I didn’t even know what time it was, but I assumed it was still pretty late. I didn’t feel like I’d been asleep for that long. When the elevator came, I scurried in and pressed the door close button. Thank God it wasn’t a glass elevator.

So far, so good. Except that it was cold and the floor of the elevator was freezing on my bare feet. Which made my nipples do their best impression of party hats. I decided to cover them with one arm and use the other to hold down my nightshirt.

The elevator opened up to the guest services deck and I stepped out. I nearly jumped back in when I felt the icy marble tiles under my feet. Toes curling in to escape the numbing pain, I limped toward the desk. It was a woman attendant. Thank God.

I nearly started crying when I realized how soon my ordeal would be over. I leaned against the long desk and said, “I locked myself out of my room. Could I get another ship card?”

She clucked sympathetically. Her nametag read Maria. “Your room number?”

“Seventy-five thirty-three. No! It’s seventy-three fifty-five. Wait...”

Fingers poised over her computer keyboard, Maria waited.

“I’m pretty sure it’s seventy-five thirty-three, after all.” I heard footsteps behind me, so I pulled my shirt down farther and pressed my breasts against the console. “Is this going to take long? Because I’m kind of in my jammies.”

Maria started typing. “I’m so sorry. It’ll take just a minute. Do you have any ID?”

I stared at her incredulously. “I was locked out of my room in my nightgown. Where do you think I store it?”

She kept looking at the computer screen, making a face that suggested she didn’t know how to handle such a tricky situation. “And your name is?”

“Kate Ryan!”

“Hmm...”

I clutched the sides of my shirt even harder than was required to keep myself decent. “Listen, Maria, I need to get back to my room before I either freeze to death or get molested when some drunk pervert assumes I’m another part of the onboard entertainment. If you won’t give me my ship card right now, go find someone who will.”

Maria curled her lip up in distaste. “You don’t have to get nasty about it.”

“How would you feel?”

In a flurry of movement, she entered something on the computer then pulled out a card. While mumbling to herself, she fed the key into a little machine then handed it to me. “Don’t lose this one.”

I snatched it from her hand. “I didn’t lose the others!”

Maria smiled. “Enjoy your cruise.”

I turned around, still struggling to keep my shirt down and walked away with as much dignity as possible. I knew she was watching me and laughing. Probably even figured out why it was so damn important for me to keep the shirt down. I might have fared better with a guy, lecherous grins and all.

I walked in the direction of the elevator, hoping it was empty. In fact, I currently wished the entire ship was deserted, à
la
the Queen Mary. So when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye, I pressed my back against the nearest wall and tried to see who was coming.

It was April. And I don’t know what it was about her, but she looked like she was sneaking.

Moving farther into a dark corner, I watched her. She walked straight up to Maria at the front desk and rested her elbows on the console. I strained to hear what was said.

“I need you to look up a room number for me,” April said, toying with a strand of bleached blonde hair.

Maria’s face didn’t look nearly as sour as it had when I was in front of her. “I don’t want to get into any trouble.”

“You owe me one, remember?”

“Of course I remember!” She looked briefly over her shoulder at the door that led to the security office. “Just tell me the name and I’ll look it up for you. Quickly.”

“Max Walker.”

I inhaled sharply. Why did she want to know the location of Max’s stateroom?

“Here you go. He’s in room eight-eleven.”

“Thanks, Maria. You’re the best.”

I flattened my back against the wall and held my breath. This had gone past the point where I could reveal myself and still look innocent. The inevitable question of how long I’d been hiding in the corner was not one I wished to answer.