What Happens on the Cruise… (Sync & Andi)

She smiled. It wasn't planned. She wasn't even aware she was smiling at him, but there it was, melted across her lips. He was a sharp one. It hadn't escaped his attention, despite her deflecting. He paid attention. That was a rare find these days. "Okay," she softly replied, her intentions not given away in the slightest by her tone. "I'm not sorry I interrupted your peace and quiet because it's getting you out of your shell, your comfort zone that you have retreated to. Work is more than work for you. It's something you find pleasure in, yes, but you also use it as a shield from the rest of the world. You see it's a door, and we simply don't have the key to that door. At least, now you've got the door cracked open ever so slightly gazing out of it at me. So I'm not sorry."

She nodded to him before reaching for the bread and taking a small morsel for her own tasting. Dipping it, she was careful to drip a single drop on the tablecloth, taking care to make sure each bite made it to her mouth. Sampling the food, she had already made up her mind. Doing the right thing was important. Though there was truth in what she had told him, there was more. Swallowing, she sampled the wine. Perhaps it was to wash down the bread. Perhaps there was a bit of courage masked by the smoothness that flowed down her throat. In any event, she cleared her throat and straightened her posture. Clasping her hands in front of her, she smiled softly at him. "I'm not sorry I interrupted your peace and quiet because it....allowed me to meet you. You have given me pearls, words of wisdom, that I needed to hear. We all need a swift kick in the rear or a gentle nudge in the right direction from time to time. Thank you for that. I owe you the truth. Don't ask me why, but I feel I owe most people the truth. You tolerated me, you're paying for this wonderful meal, and you're still tolerating me. So yeah, I owe you the truth. I'm glad I met you."

Sam didn't want to prattle on and on. Too often she knew she could get lost in the words and talk incessantly. This wasn't a time she wanted to do that. "So, tell me about your family. What are they like? A sister that would kick my butt for openly flirting with her brother," she teased, blushing slightly. Until the words came from her mouth, she wasn't sure she had been flirting with him. She began to go over every word she had said to him, trying to analyze if she had been flirting with him. "It would be easy to flirt with you," she blurted out, blushing even more. "I mean....if I was..flirting..with you..I mean..but since I'm not..it's a joke..not flirting with you. That's not a joke. Just my..wow." She couldn't stop blushing. "I'm just going to shut up now and let you talk. Please. Talk. Say something to avert from my massive fail."
 
Sam had taken her time replying, which was fine with Brett – it gave him the chance to casually make his way through the first slice of bread he’d picked up. The oils did add a little extra to the flavours, he could agree to that, but he wouldn’t call it any kind of epiphany. He could get used to it, but he’d also be quite fine without it. Be that as it may; he was still listening as she spoke…and he had to admit, again, that there was something to what she was saying. Yes, he had a little comfortable shell around him, something that fulfilled him and gave him the mindset to work s he wanted to. It was part of his single lifestyle. The so-called “pearls of wisdom”…well, if she wanted to thank him for them, if she felt that his words were valuable, then more power to her.

Then he paused for a moment in the act of reaching for a second slice of herb bread. Had she just…?

Yes, she had. It was written all over her pretty face.

He dipped his head slightly as he picked the slice of bread up, and he chuckled softly. “Yes, I do have a sister,” he told her simply. “She’s few years older than me. She’s in charge of one of the development teams at Microsoft, working in their Los Angeles office. She’s probably told me – several times – which team she heads up, but in all honesty half of what she tells me about her work goes in one ear and out the other. She’s the same when I start talking about my work. We listen politely and retain little, or only the important parts.”

He paused to break his slice of bread, dip in the oils, take a mouthful and chew on it thoughtfully before resuming. “In many ways, she and I are a lot alike: we work hard, are focussed on what we do, and have that drive to succeed. The only difference, really, is that she also raised her own family, where I…haven’t. Would she kick your butt for flirting with her baby brother, though…?” He smiled faintly. “Probably not. These days she’d be more likely to give you encouragement to continue because you’ve actually managed to get me into a conversation that might be even vaguely meaningful.”

He paused to take a sip of wine, then another. “So…there, at least, you have it. This is probably the longest conversation I’ve had with a woman that is not work-related…or so my sister would have you believe.” He raised his wine glass in a playful toast. “Congratulations.”
 
Microsoft. She was impressed. Nodding and smiling, her way of showing her approval for what his sister did. She was impressed, and she was certain his sister must be very intelligent. He spoke of them being alike with their work ethics. When he mentioned her flirting with him, her eyes darted up quickly to him. All the bells and alarms of his sister being angry were instantly silenced. She lifted her glass, and with a tilt of her head she said, "Cheers."

Sam drew a sip from her glass before settling it to rest on the table. "I think you and your sister are probably more alike than your work ethics and intelligence. Something tells me she might be a bit on the quiet side as well. You know, the whole closed-door analogy and whatnot. Still, that's not my biggest curiosity with your sister. Not by a long shot." She narrowed her eyes, and her expression was serious as she leaned in closer. She whispered, "Does she get..a good..discount? Because if she does, then you have to get me in touch with her. I am going to need so much being in college, and I could really use a pipeline, a hookup of sorts," she said, realizing as soon as the last four words left her mouth how they could sound to someone. "Well, I mean," she began to back peddle, blushing intently as she did. "With electronics and such. Not with her being a she. I mean I like girls just fine. Well, I don't like like them. I like guys. I like men. Men have so much more to offer a girl. Oh wow," she finally uttered, feeling the utter defeat in her embarrassment. "I've said too much," she told him, reaching for her glass once more. "Forgive me, please," she chuckled. "It's like I've never talked to anyone before when I try to talk to you. You..make me..nervous. I don't know why," she grinned. "I rather like it. It's refreshing. Not many people can make me nervous, but you..well..you do. I worry so much that I'm bothering you, and that you would rather me leave you alone and let you retract into your own little world behind that closed door, but I don't know. I just..can't." Her gaze fell to the table for a moment as she gathered her courage. "But if you would like, I can do that after this. If I see you on the ship, I'll steer clear of you and give you your peace and quiet. The truth is though, I hope you don't want that. I find you rather enjoyable to talk to, even if I do embarrass myself."
 
For a second or two Brett could only look at Sam as she went off on another ramble that was, again, actually rather cute and disarming. He wasn't sure if he was staring or not, and he was quite sure that his eyes had actually widened at some point during her what-on-earth-was-that speech. He made her nervous, though? He had no idea how he was managing to do that, but she was convinced of it. It was only when she finally stopped speaking and had retreated into a self-imposed silence that he recovered himself and chuckled softly with a gentle shake of his head.

"So what you're telling me, really," he offered thoughtfully, as he took a bite of the last piece of herb bread, "Is that if I tell you I'd rather be left alone, you'll acknowledge my request and then proceed to ignore that request as you stalk me no matter where I am on the ship and talk my ear off." He gave an exaggerated and overly-dramatic sigh as he broke off another piece of herb bread and popped it into his mouth. "Am I understanding that right?" He paused, then grinned broadly as he looked into her still-flushed face and studied – for a brief moment – her features.

"Michelle would like you, I think," he observed when he resumed speaking. "That's my sister – Michelle. I can almost picture her cheering you on as you engage me in conversation. And she probably does get a reasonable discount on Microsoft products and licenses. I've never really bothered asking her about it, to be honest. Given I don't really have much of a life outside of work, I haven't invested too heavily in personal computing services. What I have is pretty much provided by work." He swallowed the last of his bread and smiled warmly at her.

"Truth is…I'm starting to like you as well – in spite of my original misgivings." He paused to wink slyly at her. "You're easy to talk with, and nowhere near as annoying as I'd imagine your roommates might be. There's maturity to you that's engaging, and I like that." He stopped to take up his glass and sipped from it slowly. "So go ahead – flirt away."

Perhaps fortunately for Sam, Adam chose that exact moment to approach with the main meals. With any luck the waiter was oblivious to how flustered Sam appeared to be – certainly if the waiter had any idea, he didn't give any clue.

"Spaghetti with meatballs and a bolognaise sauce?" he queried, and placed the deep plate in front of Sam when Brett indicated his companion. "And the ravioli carbonara," he added, placing the other deep plate in front of Brett. "Enjoy." Adam gave a small nod of his head before turning and walking away from the table, and Brett leaned forward to inhale deeply.

"Smells good, at least," he noted sincerely.
 
Sam was confused. Had she expressed herself wrongly? Was he teasing? Of course, she wouldn't stalk him. In her mind, she began to go over her words, despite him talking about his sister. She picked up on keywords. Michelle. Cheering her on. Discount. Of course, that word caught her attention. No life outside of work. Though she wasn't aware of it, Sam smirked at that comment. It wasn't as if that was actually something she wasn't already aware of. Still, it was nice to hear him admit it, to say the words aloud.

"Acknowledging you have a problem is the first step," she whispered, not even sure, or caring if he heard. She returned his warm smile just before Adam reappeared. The bowls were much larger than she anticipated. Sam thought, 'well this will be dinner as well.' Softly she thanked Adam as he placed the food before her. The steam rose in a fine mist. She leaned forward, at the exact same time as he did, and with a single hand, she waved the steam closer to her nose. "Indeed. It does smell good. It brings back a lot of good memories really. Many family dinners around the table, dipping garlic bread in the sauce, talking about our day, laughing, planning the future. There was always so much of that. I find it rather disturbing when people plan too much ahead. They tend to miss out on the here and now when they do that. Of course, some planning is necessary, I get that but live a little. I don't really need to know what I'll be five years from now right now. Life is all about chances. You make one choice, and your life can go one way. You make another, and the destination is so much different. Why plan out every decision without living your life first? I could have just as easily gone for a swim this morning and never met you. Then I wouldn't have this delightful conversation or this delicious meal. Instead, I'd have a nice sunburn," she laughed. "Choices. Chances. Here's to that," she told him, lifting her glass. "I'll drink to that."

As the glass to came to a soft rest on the table, she glanced out one of the massive windows. The sea was calm today, and the sunlight reflected from the smooth, glass-like surface. It was easy to forget she was on a ship, as it was steady on the ocean's surface. Looking back, she began the process she had done even as a small child of twirling the noodles around a fork. Giggling softly, she lifted the food to her mouth. Of course, there was the slurping of a stray noodle that left her lips with a trace of sauce. "Deep-fried spaghetti. I've heard of it, and I kind of want to try to cook at home sometime." Again she began to twirl the fork in the bowl of noodles. "You form your meatballs with a cube of mozzarella cheese in the center. Cook them fully. Then you cook your noodles. On some plastic, you put some noodles down, followed by a single meatball in the center. Gather the plastic up around it. Freeze it for four hours, and then you deep fry it. Viola!" Lifting the noodles, again she took another bite. Even more, sauce was on her lips, prompting her to wipe her mouth. Despite the linen napkin, she still licked her lips. "It's a different take on this kind of meal. Seems interesting. I'd like to try it someday."

Sam gave him a long look, as once more she began to twirl her fork. "You've told me all about you. Is there anything you'd like to know? I'm an open book. Ask away. You can't embarrass me," she teased. "Go ahead. Fire away."
 
There was something in the way Sam glanced at her bowl that made Brett wonder. They were large serves, he supposed. Was that it? Maybe. He wouldn't normally eat this much at home…but then he often ate sparingly anyway, and only tended to eat a bit more when he was planning on working out later. For a cruise ship, though…well, he didn't know what to expect for meals. Yes, he'd eaten out before over the past few days, but he'd been more discerning about his meals; now, with Sam, he'd just ordered and let the cruise serve up the standard fare. He'd be a bit more careful in future.

He listened as she spoke of her thoughts on the topic of planning versus spontaneity. She seemed to accept the need for planning, but not at the expense of living. Hadn't he said that earlier? Or…maybe she was talking more broadly, rather than just with regards a career. Now that he'd been forced to slow down he could appreciate – or was starting to, a little – the value of not making firm plans or build routines. There was a certain freedom in not knowing how the day was going to go, in being able to say "I have no plans, so I'll do that today". Choices and chances, indeed…and making the most of them. He returned her toast when she offered it.

He couldn't help the small smile when she gave him the short version of her recipe, and he shook his head with mild amusement when she finished. "I don't know that I've told you all about myself," he countered lightly. "But then…I suppose there's not a lot to tell to begin with. For all that I'm relatively successful in my career, that's about all I have. Outside of work…I guess I'm a little shallow. No real hobbies to speak of that aren't work-related, no significant personal life…I'm a simple man, really." He stabbed a piece of ravioli, swirled it around the plate to gather some sauce, held it aloft for a moment while deciding on his next words.

"You may regret that statement about how I can't embarrass you," he ventured slyly. "Such bold statements often turn out to be challenges for those who aren't afraid to dig. I may hold that one open for later in the cruise, assuming you and I keep talking to each other." He smiled warmly, popped the ravioli into his mouth and chewed quickly.

"But…as you've claimed to be an open book, and made the offer for me to ask you anything about yourself…" he pricked another package of meat-wrapped pasta with his fork. "Why software development? That's what you indicated you were wanting to study, I think. What about it draws you?"
 
"For all the answers I could give you, none of them would be the truth," she began, feeling as though her own voice was becoming lost in a vacuum of silence, as if the entire dining area had suddenly vanished, leaving only them and this truth she was about to finally speak for the first time. "I could say it was to please my father or to try and achieve some lofty dream, to change the world, or make a difference, but the truth, the short end of it all," a long deep breath, slowly exhaled, "is creativity." The one, single word lifted a weight from her shoulders. A veil that had been over her eyes that she wasn't even aware of was suddenly gone.

She smiled at him, knowing he couldn't possibly know the joy she felt in finally telling someone her true reasons behind all the hard work she had done all her life. She found herself lacing her fingers together, forgetting about the meal for the time being, while her eyes drifted out to the sea that surrounded them. "When I was a kid I loved to color. I could sit and do it for hours, but the thing is all my pictures were different. I didn't color the sun yellow or the grass green. It was purple and pink, bright shades that could not be further from the norm. My mom would ask me why I did such things, and she would tell me how wrong it was. She would ask me, 'Does the sun look pink to you? Is the grass purple?', and I would always smile and tell her it could be. It could be." She shook her head slowly, lowering her gaze to the food before her. Her fingers released and she took her fork in hand. The food smelled amazing, and she truly was hungry. Admittedly he had gotten her to go back in time for a moment. Not all memories from one's past are pleasant, and they certainly don't all fill a person with warm, fuzzy thoughts. He had no idea just how torn that memory was for it, nor how important. "I saw the world as it could be. Still do. I don't like taking the path taken by others. Software development allows me to make my own path. Sure there is some certainty in always having a job, as our society clears depends on technology, but it's more than that. So much more than that."

She lifted a bite, savoring it as the flavors coated her tongue. Thoughts about the chef that had created this dish came to mind. He or she went to college, had formal training of some sort, taking the recipe someone else came up with and putting their own take on it, enhancing it, bettering it. She wasn't much different really. She smiled before picking up her glass, the wine inside catching the light for a brief moment as it swirled. A beautiful dance of color that was gone as soon as it happened. Taking a sip, she lowered the glass. "People are full of ideas, wonderful, beautiful, brilliant ideas that for some they simply can't execute. That's where I'll come in. I will have the ability to make their thoughts, their dreams, a reality. It can be something that could go on to help many. So to a degree, yes, I will be helping others. I guess," she began, clearing her throat, "I have always taken up the role of helping others. Take my friends," she began, laughing slightly. "No seriously, take my friends," she joked. "I have always been the one helping them. The level-headed one, with all the planning, putting in the work to make sure everything we wanted to do went off without a hitch. They're the oblivious ones, thinking that things just seem to happen as they should. That's not true. Anyone firmly rooted in reality knows that life takes planning, and even then, the best-laid plans can fall apart. My friends don't realize that I'm the one planning things from point A to point B, making sure that their plans and dreams become a reality. Kind of like what a soft developer does. So I've been training for this for a while. It's my nature really. I'm just going to get the formal education to allow me to make money from it," she teased.

Taking another sip of wine, her eyes locked with his. "You know, you're the first and only person that I've ever told that to. It feels good to have told....you." She chooses her words carefully, meaning full well to say him and not just anyone. Granted she could have told her father, her mother, her friends, anyone really, but she had always thought, 'what good would it do? Would they understand?'. Somehow she didn't worry about him understanding. Somehow she felt comfortable enough to say what was really there.

"Now in keeping with you taking my friends," she teased once more. "You have to realize that embarrassing me would be a difficult task. I've been friends with them for a long time, and if those girls can't do it, you would be hard pressed to accomplish the impossible task." Another bite of food filled her mouth. She closed her eyes reveling in the experience that was this meal. "You know, I am beyond glad I came here. This is every bit as good as I imagined it would be. Very rarely does something meet my expectations like this. Thank you for this. I'm glad we did this. Maybe we will meet up again some other time at perhaps a place on this ship that you find interesting but haven't visited yet. Who knows," she mused, shrugging her shoulders slightly. "Maybe, just maybe, I'll happen along while you're there, and we might just enjoy each other's company there. Who knows. Anything is possible."
 
When she set her fork down and looked out of the window with her hands clasped together in front of her, Brett knew he was in for a long explanation. That was fine. If she wanted to speak, he wasn't going to interrupt her. He listened attentively, splitting his focus between consuming his food and consuming her words. His fork moved deliberately between plate and mouth – not mechanically, more with a thoughtful motion – as he listened. His gaze moved between her and plate, too, just enough that he knew what his fork was picking up before returning to her. He remained silent as she spoke…and what she revealed she apparently hadn't revealed to anyone else. Why him, then? They'd known each other for a few hours, to her he was little more than a stranger. But then…sometimes a stranger was the best person to talk to, because they were capable of listening without bias. Maybe that was it.

When she'd finished he looked down at his plate and realised he'd eaten most of his ravioli. Had he been that wrapped up in her words that he hadn't noticed how much he was eating? He certainly knew that she'd held his attention well – or he'd given it well, either way would be correct. He set his fork down, tines hooked over the lip of the plate and tip on the table, then steepled his hands together in front of his body, elbows planted firmly on the table either side of his plate. He needed a small break from eating, anyway. His smile was, he hoped, one of warmth and understanding.

"You're self-aware," he offered thoughtfully after a couple of seconds of silence. "It's an attr- it's an interesting quality in you. Most people your age haven't developed their self-awareness to the extent you have. It certainly seems like your friends haven't." He reached out, took his wine glass and, as she had a few minutes earlier, swirled it briefly before taking a small swallow. Had Sam caught his near-slip? She probably had.

"I do understand what you mean about creativity, though," he agreed as he lazily held his glass before him. "There's a certain freedom in architecture, too. Not in the large-scale office blocks, no – they're built to standards and forms, drawn up by developers to get as many people in for as little money spent to maximise returns. But smaller office buildings, community projects, large residential homes – those are where I get to be creative. The person has a vision, and I get the freedom to design it. I have to adhere to standards and industry practices, as you will in software development…but how I choose to realise a person's idea up to me." He took another sip from his wine, then another, then set the glass down on the table.

"You've also thrown a few other things at me, there, so…" He paused, then grinned faintly. "From the sound of them, you can keep your friends. They're likely to be more aggravation than I care to tolerate on this holiday I didn't really want to be having. Embarrassing you…I can certainly work on the challenge. You may regret it, though. And that leads me to…" He sighed softly.

"I'll admit that I haven't really explored this ship much," he confessed a little sheepishly. "I know where the pool deck is, obviously, plus the restaurants around here, and I know where my cabin is, as well as yours. I know there's a gym, I know there's a large lounge and function room, I'm pretty sure there's a small casino on board…but I haven't gone walking around to find them. Until this morning, I mostly remained in my room being grumpy about being here. So…you're right. We may yet end up exploring this ship together." The corner of his mouth flicked up in a wry smile. "It doesn't sound like you'll have a lot of trouble getting away from your friends to do that, at least."
 
She erupted into laughter that only grew stronger with each comment about her friends. Though he hadn't even met them, from her explanation of them, he certainly had a clear picture of what they were like. As her mother would say, he had them pegged. "I certainly will not have any trouble getting away from them. If the sun is out, then it's a pretty safe bet so are they." Her own comment drew a soft chuckle. While they had been there and clearly earned their place as her friends, they were not without fault. It seemed this time away from the prying eyes and listening ears of the adults in their lives, they had all gotten a little bit wilder. The thought, the realization, caused her to furrow her brow. "They are acting like most people their age, our age actually," she began. "You said I'm self-aware, and that is an....interesting quality, but my friends have made me realize that I haven't let down my hair here. I'm still acting like my family is just down the hall sleeping at night. It's as if they're going to be sitting at the breakfast table in the morning, waiting to ask about my night and inquire about my plans for the day. None of that is true. They are going on with their lives, giving me the freedom to do the same here, and I'm acting....like an adult. I should do something wild and crazy while I'm here. I should let my hair down." She picked up her glass, ready to swirl the glass and take a tentative sip as she had done before, but this time she paused before raising the glass to her lips and downing the contents. Lowering the glass to the table, it hit with a thud. Her eyes widened. "Wow," she gasped. "That was great. Now I just need to do that a few more times later," she teased.

With thoughts about the ship swirling in her mind, she cleared her throat before picking up her fork again. She wanted to ask him, but her nerves that were tangling inside of her forced her eyes to the plate before her. Gathering food slowly, she shrugged slightly before saying, "Is there any chance you would ever be interested in hitting up one of the places that plays music, and people dance to it, and they serve drinks?" She cringed at how her question revealed her age even further as if he needed to be told how old she was. "I mean, because if you would, if you ever did, go to such a place, then maybe I'd run into you there." In her mind, she began to wage a war. She thought he would never be interested in going anywhere with someone like her. It wasn't just her age. She thought perhaps he was simply being kind by even having this meal with her. Why on earth would he want to do anything else with her? On the other hand, why couldn't she just ask him out? It wouldn't be a date date. It would be two people spending time together, hanging out, having a good time, having a drink, listening to music, and possibly dancing. That's not a date date. Is it? Even if it was, he had started to say being self-aware was attractive. Hadn't he?

"You know we could simply just go exploring later," she blurted out, interrupting her own thoughts as if her courage had hijacked her mouth against the will of her own brain. "I mean," she stuttered, trying to back peddle, "If you're up for it. We could..find out..what else is on this ship that could be fun to do."
 
Somehow Brett had finished his ravioli while she'd been speaking. He hadn't even been aware that he was eating, not really. Oh, sure, part of him knew, but he wasn't focussing on his food, so he supposed he'd only been superficially aware of chewing and swallowing. It was curious that she'd held his attention so completely. And there were several things there that had grabbed his mind as he'd listened. He chuckled softly as he set his fork down on his plate, indicating he was done. He sat back in his chair, and he felt his stomach completely agree with the setting of the fork. He was done. All he had to do was finish his wine, and lunch would be complete.

"If I didn't know better…" he offered knowingly as he looked once more into her pretty face, "I'd think that you were asking me out on a date…of sorts." He paused, just long enough for the observation to hopefully sink in, then continued. "But that couldn't be it, because we only met a couple of hours ago." In truth, he was starting to enjoy this sort of banter with her. Maybe he was enjoying it because she was younger and a stranger. He didn't know, and…he didn't care to know. He picked up his glass, swirled it around for a couple of seconds, brought it to his lips so he could sip deeply of the contents.

"For sure, though, exploring the ship is a good idea," he agreed easily. "May as well do it together, if that's okay with you. After all, you're going to be mostly alone during daylight hours, as am I…we can be alone together, then. And if we happen to find things we enjoy doing, then…so be it." He sipped from his glass again, then tipped his head back and drained it before setting it on the table with a little less enthusiasm than she had.

"I've never been much of a nightclub person," he admitted slowly, his gaze falling to a spot on the table between them. "I was too focussed on school, then college, then work. Shows, though…I'm sure they run cabarets and theatre restaurants and the like that we could explore together…if you're up for roaming the ship with a man who's probably twice your age." It was true that he hadn't "let his hair down" much – if at all – at any point in his life…much like she hadn't. Maybe it was time to change that.

What was it about her that was making him start to re-evaluate his life choices?
 
Dinner had come to a close. It was in the air, an unmistakable feeling, not powered by the empty plates and glasses, but by a feeling that seemed to settle. It was as if she were sitting in the movie theater, and instinctively she knew the movie was half over. The joy, the wonder, would start to fade, and soon enough she knew there would be nothing more than the neat wrap-up of all the characters, the blinding bright lights, and the near-empty popcorn container. It was over, and the tug of sadness at her heartstrings was undeniable. Still, she brightened at his words about exploring the ship together. Not once did give a second thought as to why these words brought a touch of joy to her. Not once.

As he concluded, she rose slowly, as to not appear to be running away from him. Nothing could be further from the truth if she was honest. "I can't thank you enough for this. I've had the time....a really good time." His words about it appearing as if she were asking him out on a date came back. Of course, it seemed....wrong somehow, and yet the words painted in her mind, and she could help but give them life. "So what if I did ask you out on a date?" She was stunned at the simple fact she had the gall, the courage, to ask. "So what? You're an attractive man." Her cheeks blushed, though she was unaware of the onset of rouge and warmth. "I'm a vibrant, young lady. So what if we decided to spend our time together like that, and so what if we just met? Everyone has to meet at some point or another. It has to start somewhere. I know a lady who met a guy and in a year she married him and was carrying his child. When you know, you know, and when it happens, it happens." Feeling the exhilaration starting to decline as the hormones were leaving her body, she became aware of her declaration from her self-appointed soap box. "I mean," she began, trying her best to backpedal and figure out some way to spin this. "It's not like I am saying we should..you know..go on a date. I'm..just..saying." She shook her head quickly as she smirked, trying to stifle the laugh that was wanting to erupt. "That really isn't an excuse, is it? I'm just saying. Really? Did I really just say that?" Again she shook her head slightly and closed her eyes briefly, hoping she would feel less awkward when she opened them. As the light peered back in the thought sank within her. 'Nope. Not less awkward. Extending her hand towards him, she grasped his hand, shaking it slightly with a firm grip. "Thank you again, and I sincerely hope we do meet again." With those words, she left him to try and make sense of the trainwreck that was her and their encounter, hoping that he would somehow find her less strange than she felt at the exact moment.

The days passed with the ocean surrounding them. Pulling into port, she was able to convince her friends to go ashore with her and explore. There were no guarantees they would ever be able to do this again. Life was far too short, and she wanted to experience it, to live, to feel it. Grabbing each chance by the throat, she checked out all of the places that the travel blogs said were 'hidden gems'. Rolling her eyes at the very notion, she still took part of all they had to offer. If all those people were crowded into these huge establishments, then how hidden could they actually be? They felt more like part of an industry, the tourist industry, and she wanted more. Waiting for her friends to return back to the ship early, as the party would soon be starting there, she took it upon herself to explore further, finding the true hidden gems the island had to offer. Tiny, hole-in-the-wall places with history, with locals telling stories, and offering more than a drink with a paper umbrella. She began to find the island spirit she had wanted to find since her feet touched the sand of this beautiful place. Looking around, it was easy to see, she was finding it in the places she visited and the faces of those who were unknown and yet took her into their family, their island family. This was something no blog could ever convey. There were no words that could even begin to describe it. It was priceless and breathtaking, and it was coming to a close. She had to bid farewell to the island and rejoin the others on the ship.

Dressing up, she headed out, trying her best to blend in with her friends. Since boarding she had slowly begun to wonder why they were even friends. She could see the differences now. Perhaps it was sharing so much in the cramped living quarters they were now in. Before it was simple conversations, days at school, football games, dances, and then back home. There was no leaving here. They were even at home here. When she returned and found solace behind closed doors, they were there. It was easy to blend in at first. A few drinks, dancing to the loud, pounding beat that seemed to never change. It was....normal. It was exactly what she was leaving behind, and yet they seemed to still feel at home. After a while, it all left her with a massive aching head, and she retreated back to the room to down some aspirin and find peaceful rest.

She would awaken the next morning with a purpose. There was something she wanted to do, and today was going to be the day. Dressing quietly, she slipped from the room wearing shorts, a tee shirt, and her running shoes. On the top deck, there was a track that ran the length of the ship. She didn't care how much distance it would be. All she cared about was the serenity. Her feet began to connect with the track, and a smile spread across her face. Slowly all the distractions of the world started to fade, and she found one thought surprising her as it came through with crystal clarity. The dinner. Him. Why was he of all people on her mind? The wind from the ocean kissed with the scent of salt water brushed by her face as she continued her run. Still, their conversation came back to her. She smiled again, remembering how awkward she had felt. She wondered if he knew how she had felt. Every detail of his face came into view. As it did, her pace quickened. It was as if she were trying to run away from the thoughts, or perhaps she was running towards them. Time passed. Her feet barely touched the track as she raced around the track. She ran until the burning in her muscles, the aching begging her to stop became too much to be ignored. She slowly came to a stop, doubling over, drinking in the air as the sweat on her body made it's presence known. She stood there, her hands on her knees, catching her breath for a while. When she finally stood upright, she couldn't believe her eyes. A gym, an actual gym, was right there. She smiled, laughing a bit as she made her way slowly inside. The fitness center was impressive, far more than she thought it would be. Still, the simplicity of the exercise bikes caught her attention. 'Why not,' she thought as she made her way towards them. This was turning out to be a good day already.
 
Lunch drew to a close. It was a natural close, though, not a forced one: the meals were finished at a measured pace, wine consumed slowly, the table cleared in good order; the conversation slowed on its own and didn't rush or die. In a way, it was a bittersweet ending of their time together – the time was enjoyable, but there was also that unspoken understanding that they'd likely not meet again, at least not like this.

Or would they? As she stood to leave – Brett standing as well to respect her departure, as a gentleman should – Sam dropped into another semi-rambling speech, during which she hinted that she would in no way be opposed to them meeting again for a meal or other activity…like a more-traditional date. She thought him to be an attractive man…? He wasn't so sure about that, but he did find himself in agreement with her self-assessment of being a vibrant lady (that was an odd descriptor, "vibrant"). It was a strange speech, and yet, like all of her other strange speeches, it was oddly charming when coming from her mouth. From other people they'd be annoying, even irritating, but from her they were almost endearing; why was that?

He took her offered hand and shook it with a firm grip – but not so firm that it might cause her any alarm. "If we are to meet again, I will certainly not be opposed," he agreed sincerely, and he remained standing as he watched her walk away, his eyes unconsciously lowering to follow the gentle sway of her hips before she disappeared from view. Then he sighed softly and sat back down at the table, grabbed the waiter's attention, and ordered another glass of wine. As much as they'd both agreed that meeting again would be a Good Thing, in the back of his mind he had already resigned himself to the truth that, with over nine thousand passengers and crew on this ship, it would be somewhat unlikely that they'd actually do so. He took his time with the wine when it arrived, his gaze focussed on the world outside the window as he sipped, his mind looking back at possibilities lost to time and decision.

For the next couple of days he did little more than eat lightly, drink appropriately, sleep as necessary, and explore the ship. He found the gym quickly and started making a point of going there after breakfast for a workout – not immediately after breakfast, that would be stupid, but about an hour or so after eating he dressed in shorts, tank-top, runners, grabbed a towel and drink bottle, and headed off for an hour-long light workout that helped him focus his mind for…he wasn't sure what. He found other restaurants and made mental notes to try them all before the cruise finished. There was the theatre that ran a variety of shows twice daily. There was the casino that he decided, while quite happy to explore and look, to generally avoid so as to remove himself from the temptation of gambling and losing. There was the games room of a more generic nature that looked relaxing enough – chess and checkers, non-gambling card games, various board games. There were also various other activities that could be found on-ship, such as parasailing and the free-climbing walls. Of course, he could also spend plenty of time in his cabin, just sitting on his balcony and reading and watching the Caribbean float past him.

The ship pulled into port – now almost a week out of the initial departure – to pick up additional supplies, top up the fuel tanks, and collect the passengers who'd booked to join the cruise from the island port instead of the mainland. It gave the passengers already on board a bit of shore leave for eight hours, to get off the ship and stretch their legs and do a few touristy things. Brett found himself being one of those who left the ship for a few hours to wander around. He found himself looking at the buildings with a critical eye, looking at them for both their aesthetic and architectural values; he found himself wondering about the unknown history the walls contained. He bought a couple of trinkets for souvenirs (cheaper than the ship's gift shop, for sure), sampled a bit of the local cuisine, milled about the nearby marketplaces, bought a few extra magazines for reading material, and made sure he was back on board well before the appointed time.

The next day was fitting into his "normal" routine: up early-ish, light breakfast, wait a bit, then head to the gym. While it was a well-decked gymnasium, it wasn't typically packed with people. Most folks came on a cruise to relax and be lazy, and working out just didn't fit into that idea for many. But working out was just a different form of relaxation, Brett knew. He'd just finished a ten kilometer run on one of the crossfit machines and was giving himself a few minutes of cool-down time before taking a twenty kilometer bike ride. He was half-way to the small row of exercise bikes and a semi-familiar face walked into the gym. It took him a few seconds, but then it clicked: her. Sam. He hadn't forgotten the time he'd already spent with her, but seeing her – even with her face flushed, her chest heaving, her t-shirt stained with sweat – brought all those memories flooding forward…had she just been exercising around the ship and decided the gym was a good place to cool off…? Still, he was happy to see her…and they were both heading for the bikes. This could be interesting…and hopeful.

"I must admit that I didn't think to meet you here," he greeted her warmly, his voice lowered to hopefully not startle her. "How have you been, Sam? I trust things have gone as well as you'd wanted them to…?"
 
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The bikes were not anything special. Of course most were a dime a dozen. She could see a large display panel already. It was probably the type of bike that offered a scenic view of the trail of you were on.

His voice was soft, melting almost. Her attention quickly turned towards his voice. "You," she gently said. "Fancy meeting you here. It's good to see you," she told him as she climbed up on the bike. "We've got to stop meeting like this. People will talk," she teased. Her feet began to move the pedals, and the hushed swishing sound from the bike came to life. "I've been good," she replied, finally answering his question. "Spent some time with my friends in one of the nightclubs here." She flahsed an eyeroll. "Don't get me wrong. It was....ok, for what it was. Loud music, dancing, a little drinking. It was okay," she shrugged. "When we were at port, I went ashore with them. They think it's authentic to go to all the famous places that a thousand other bloggers have written about. Posing for pictures with plastic statues and poorly painted murals made for the real deal experience," she softly laughed. "I never viewed my friends as hipsters or airheads, but after this trip," she questioned, raising her eyebrows. "It's been a real eye opener. I've actually wondered why we even hang out. We don't seem to have much in common. I guess when we were in school, we had that in common, and there are so many common threads there that bind people together. Without those threads, we seem to be coming apart." She shook her head slightly, trying to stop over anylizing the situation. "I did venture ashore on my own. The real gems, the true treasures that you can find in places like that are not on some webpage. It's in the faces of the locals. They know what's real, and they were more than happy to show me. They opened their doors and their arms to me, letting me experience the culture, and it was....amazing. It would be so easy to get lost there and not come home, but reality waits for noone. Time marches on, and this ship was going to sail away."

She bit her bottom lip slightly looking over at him. "You always let me ramble. I apologize. I want to hear more about you. How have you found this trip so far? Are you getting out of your own head and actually relaxing? Granted I'm sure I won't see you at any foam parties here on board, even though I think that might actually be fun," she admitted, embarrassed, her cheeks blushing slightly. "What have you been doing for fun?"
 
He hung back, standing respectfully to the side, as she slipped onto one of the bikes and slowly began to pedal. He'd been wanting to cool down a little before jumping on anyway, and standing back to engage in a few minutes of idle conversation was a good a distraction as any. He tried very, very hard to not enjoy the way her thighs moved beneath her shorts, the way her breasts began to gently sway under her t-shirt, as she started her exercise.

As it turned out, Sam was doing what she did best: talk. She referred to it as rambling, and some might have seen it that way, he supposed; but to him, it was engaging and informative. He'd never been much of a social talker anyway, so if she was happy filling silences with talk of not much, then he'd be happy to let her so he could simply enjoy her company. He doubted she'd have noticed the exact moment he slid onto the bike next to her and started his own ride, letting his legs get used to the motion as he programmed the device for his ride distance and tension requirements. He wanted to work, but not work hard; a solid twenty-kilometer ride would be fine, and it didn't need to be up to triathlon quality.

Brett chuckled softly as she reined herself in and apologised for her talking, and he looked sideways to her as she could see that he was in no way put out.

"I let you be yourself," he countered simply. "You like talking, I like listening. Besides, I've never been terribly good at talking, least of all with a young woman such as yourself – just ask my sister, she'll be more than happy to tell you about all of what she considers to be my faults." He paused to increase the tension just a tiny fraction before he continued.

"I went ashore at port, too," he told her. "Although…I must confess it was as much out of professional curiosity as it was to get off the ship. I wanted to see for myself how the buildings were constructed, what the styles are like, what materials they used…and I also topped up my magazine collection while I was there. I did a few touristy-things, too, never fear – I did just wander around, take a few photos, take in some of the sights, but…I guess it's taking me a bit longer to unwind like that, maybe. So…I may yet have a go at a foam party or two before the cruise ends…although I'll warn you now I'm not good at dancing at the best of times, and a foam-covered floor is definitely not the best of times." He grinned cheekily, then let the grin fade as he sucked in a heavy breath, as much to help him with his exercising as anything else.

"If I may be so bold, Sam – you never struck me as the party type the way you've described your friends to be," he ventured carefully. "Party types don't go onto the pool deck to simply lie in the sun and read, nor do they have a casual lunch with a complete stranger. The way you've described your friends, I can't say I'm surprised that you're starting to see them differently. Living apart from people, you only really see what they show you; living in close quarters for a prolonged period, you eventually get to see everything."

He let his head drop slightly, then turned to once more look at her. "I'm sorry if that was too…forward of me, Sam."
 
"Oh don't apologize," she told him quickly, inhaling deeply, feeling the sweat slightly begin to build up on her face. "You're right. It's something I wouldn't have noticed a week or two ago, but now? Here? It's glaring me in the face the differences we have, and that's ok. We can remain, friends, when this is over, from afar," she laughed slightly. "Very far." Her eyebrows raised slightly as she saw on the digital display the terrain ahead. It was getting a bit steep, and she could feel the tension. Perhaps this may not have been the best choice for a stroll. Still, she was determined to finish. As far as not letting him see her sweat, that ship, much like the one they were aboard, had sailed.

"You know, I get it. The foam party may not be your style. That's ok. I'm not 100% certain it's my style either. Perhaps at the next port, if I may be so bold as to suggest, maybe we could take in some sights together?" The question didn't seem so forward in her head, but as the words left her lips, she began to speak slower, pausing between her words. She couldn't help but wonder if it was too much. "I mean you could tell me about the buildings, and we could learn about the culture, the locals, the cuisine," her tone was slightly playful as she drew out the last word. Her gaze shifted sideways towards him, and she raised her eyebrows. "We'll always have cuisine." She spoke the words as if she were quoting a movie. "There's no foam, I would imagine, and you don't have to dance. Just be yourself, only more relaxed," she teased. "Maho Beach," she announced. "It's at our next port. St. Maarten. The planes land and take off incredibly close to the beach there. Adventours? Maybe. Exhilarating? I hope so. So what do you say? Take in the sites, dare to get close to a landing 747?"
 
For a few moments Brett remained silent as he pedalled his exercise bike. There was a small hill coming, and the resistance was increasing slightly to simulate it, but that wasn't the reason he was silent. No, he was silent because of her words. He might have replied quickly, but he had to make sure he said it right. If he said it wrong, then this…whatever it was that was building between them…might be harmed, and Sam didn't deserve that. Had she just asked him out on a kind-of date…?

"You know…I hadn't given a lot of thought to going ashore at the next port," he admitted slowly as his legs started to pump a bit harder. "Sure, it'll be the last stop before we return to Miami – at least I think it is – but I just hadn't considered it." He paused, then turned so he could look sideways at his exercising companion.

"You're probably right that a Foam Party won't be my thing," he agreed with a small grin. "But…now that you're asking me to go ashore, and go with you, I find myself agreeing with the suggestion." He stopped, then snorted softly as his head dropped until his chin was nearly on his chest. "You know…that sounded a hell of a lot better in my head. In my head I worded it better, too." She was actually encouraging – or trying to encourage him – to live, if only for a little while.

And he couldn't say "no" to her.

"Sure, that sound like a good idea," he tried again, his head raising so he could look at the ocean ahead of them. "When we dock, we can meet at my cabin, if you like, then we can go ashore and…do touristy things together. A local lunch sounds good, if we've got time. The ship will probably stop for a half day or more, so we'll likely get time to cram a few different things in." He grinned faintly. "If we get lucky, we can even feel a seven-four-seven do its best to kill us."
 
She laughed, hoping the slight blush on her cheeks didn't show. It was something he had said. It was the sound of the words coming from his lips that had done it. They weren't proactive words. There was nothing truly dirty about them at all, and yet they had struck some chord, drawing a little crimson and slight warmth to her cheeks. "Yeah," she told him. "I'm sure we can....cram....a few things in." She felt the warmth deepen, and instantly she began to question herself. 'Why did you say that? Oh. My. Gosh. You know how those words made you....feel. Why on earth would you say that stupid?' Shaking her own thoughts aside, she asked, "What's your cabin and deck number? Sounds like some kind of cheesy pick-up line, doesn't it? What's your major? What's your room number? You gonna slip a room key in my hand too," she asked, instantly attacking herself inwardly as the blush most certainly had to be noticeable by now. She turned her head, looking away from him, hoping it would quickly fade. "I'll have to make sure my phone is charged so I can take lots of pictures. We are bound to see some amazing, beautiful things. I'll have to do some research to make sure I've got it all nailed down what I think would be interesting to see." Even her own choice of wording seemed to be making her....situation....worse. She slipped from the bike, awaiting to hear his reply about his room number. "I think..I'm gonna head back to my room now. Shower, get some of this....sweat....from me. Maybe take a swim." She could feel how flustered she was becoming, and she could help but wonder if he could tell. "So if you'll give me that room and deck number, I'll be on my way."


The dawning day welcomed them with the ship already docked. Her cabin mates were surprisingly awake and actually heading ashore for the time they were allotted. To say she was taken aback would be an understatement. When they mentioned their plans for the day, she quickly interjected what she had in mind for the day. It was met with a few giggles and the assurance they understood. "Sam, you're always gonna be Sam, and you're gonna do things your way. You'll find all these quirky places." Quirky. Perhaps. Quirky, unusual, and out of the way had a certain appeal to her. The history of the island and the people that lived there called to her. She just hoped her companion for the day felt the same way.

She made her way towards his cabin, bumping into many happy faces of tourists all with the same agenda, to go and explore this island before them. Why not? Even the air, though still kissed by the same ocean as before, smelled different. The warmth from the sun somehow seemed to be softer and kinder here. She was aware it made no sense to think these thoughts, and yet here they were, tickling at her mind as she neared his cabin door. She imagined what his room must look like. Everything was put away, all nice and neat, and everything was in its place. Not so much as even a smudge on the mirrors, no doubt. The bathroom would be tidy as well. No wet towels lying about. His toothbrush sitting in a cup by the sink, not resting on the counter near it, as her cabin mates did. He probably even squeezed the toothpaste from the bottom, making sure to get every last drop from it. She shook her head slightly, musing that she allowed her mind to have such thoughts. "He could be a slob," she whispered, knowing full well the chances of that were slim. She was nervous as her curled fingers rose slowly to knock on the door. Her heart was racing. She began to wonder why they just didn't agree to meet ashore or where they could exit the ship together. 'Why his room,' she thought. 'Because you asked for his room number, that's why.' Taking a deep breath, she steadied her nerves. 'It's just....him. We've talked. We've shared a meal already. We're not best friends, but he's not a perfect stranger either. Get it together and knock on the door.' Her internal pep talk resonated, and her fingers tapped on the door. She bit her bottom lip as she awaited. 'What if he's already gone? What if doesn't open the door? What if he's changed his mind? Get it together,' she admonished, as she once more shook her head slightly. 'Just....breath.'
 
Sam was exceptionally good at getting herself flustered, Brett had come to realise; and she didn't seem to need any help from himself to get her into that state. It was both curious and charming that she did that to herself so easily. Was it only him, though, or did she get herself this flustered around others as well? He doubted he'd know the answer to that one.

Somehow they swapped room numbers – or…she got his number, at least; he seemed to have missed getting hers in the exchange – and they were making plans to catch up the next day when the ship docked so they could do some sight-seeing together. Then she was dismounting from her bike, make her excuses to leave, the promise of meeting up tomorrow still ringing between them…and she was gone.

Exactly what had just happened? They were going to meet at his cabin tomorrow morning, around breakfast time, and then disembark for the day to see what the island had to offer. Nothing untoward in it…except that he could hear his sister in his mind, crowing about how he was finally going on a date with a woman. It wasn't a date…was it? No, surely not. Couldn't be. They'd agreed to no such thing. Just two people going out and seeing a new place neither of them had been to before.

So why did it feel like a date?

* * * * *

The next morning arrived faster than he'd thought it would. He'd stayed in the gym after Sam had departed, spending another half-hour on various workouts before finishing up and going back to his cabin to freshen up. The afternoon he spent on his small cabin balcony, reading magazines and journals and watching the seascape go by. Dinner was at one of the many restaurants on board – something Mexican-ish, or close enough to it. It didn't matter. He didn't bother with after-dinner shows or such. The pool deck was just fine for relaxing before bed.

On waking, though…up, shower, clean teeth, dress – pale long shorts, loose white shirt, sandshoes and ankle-socks, Tampa Bay Rays baseball cap on his head. Phone was charged, so was the tablet that was going to be carried in the small backpack he was taking with him. Surely at least one of them would be doing a tiny bit of shopping and would need something to carry it in. He pulled the bed up to make it presentable, set the wardrobe in order…yes, should straighten out the bathroom, too. Not too much, though, otherwise the room might not looked lived-in. But he still had to make it presentable for…why, exactly? It wasn't as if Sam was going to be critiquing him for his degree of neatness. Hell, she had four friends in her cabin, where it was just one of him. Given the way her friends were, it wouldn't have surprised him at all to find that her cabin looked like a bomb had gone off in it. He smiled faintly at the thought…just as he heard the gentle rapping on the door, and the sound made his heart leap in his chest.

"Coming…!" he called out, as his eyes made a last-minute sweep over the room to make sure nothing was glaringly obviously out of place. Nope…all good. He made his way to the door, hesitated, the twisted the handle and pulled the door open to reveal his guest and daytime companion, and he felt a small but goofy smile appear on his face as he looked at the young woman – she was simply dressed, but it suited her well.

"Sam," he greeted her warmly. "Thanks for coming." He stepped to the side, leaving the doorway open for her. "Please, come in for a moment while I finish getting organised." He waited politely as she moved past him, and he gently closed the door behind her – more to keep the traffic out than to keep her in, and he hoped that was how she interpreted it.

"So…this is my large and spacious and just-for-me cabin," he told her rather pointlessly, gesturing to the poorly-made bed with its white quilt and sheets and the view beyond, the small lounge with table and chairs and large TV mounted on the wall opposite; indeed, his cabin was more like a generous four-star hotel room than a berth on a cruise ship.

"I hope your friends didn't give you any trouble about your planned sight-seeing activities…?" Now why had he asked that, of all things?
 
She passed through the open door, not really expecting to be invited in. His cabin was beyond anything she could have imagined spending this cruise in. The size, the peace, and calmness within truly made this feel like a vacation cruise. She was in awe, her eyes scanning her new, temporary surroundings. "Wow," she gasped. "Just-for-you cabin?? This is incredible. Perhaps it's the aftermath of spending time in close quarters with the equivalent of pigs rooting around in their own belongings, but this is simply nice. Lucky you," she teased, wrinkling her nose slightly. "Now I know where to come if I want peace and quiet and to be able to put my feet up without touching someone else's clothes, or worse," she laughed.

His question only broadened her smile. "They know me," she nodded. "I told them my plans, and yeah, they laughed a little. They can't imagine me spending time with a guy. I don't know why," she quickly added, knowing full well why. "Besides we won't be interested in the same places. They will want to go to all the tourist traps and buy cheap, cliche souvenirs. I want to see this place, the locals, what they enjoy. i want to find out what makes them stay and what is so special about this place. A person can go on vacation, or a person can connect with something new and exciting. I wanna connect."

She was fully aware her words probably sounded silly, maybe even stupid, but it was the truth, her truth. "That's some view you have there," she told him, gesturing towards his balcony. "We don't have one. Porthole. You can't sit and breathe in the ocean air while you're gliding along towards your destination. Well, you can if you stick your nose up to it while it's open," she laughed. Wanting to change the subject and to shake the feeling she was being nothing more than a dork, she gestured to his clothing. "You look nice. You look like you're ready to tackle the local scene. Hope those shoes are made for walking. If we've forgotten anything, we can pick it up when we're ashore. Any idea what you want to do or see first?? Have you seen anything catch your fancy that you care to explore or learn more about??"
 
Sam's reaction to his cabin…it wasn't what he'd expected. Okay, Brett had really held no expectations of how Sam might react, but that wasn't it. Or maybe it was, and he was overthinking it. Of course he didn't know what manner of cabin she was inhabiting, but given she was sharing with four others he knew it was going to be cramped. That she'd made comments about the space and the view that he had…well, she clearly didn't have much of either, something she confirmed with her own words a few moments later. And she was still going back-and-forth with her thoughts and comments. He'd probably never get used to that.

"Well…I guess it is large, this cabin I've got," he agreed a little unnecessarily. "But when Jason – my boss – presented me with the ticket and told me it was booked and all I had to do was chip in the remaining fifty percent of the costs…well, I didn't have anyone to share with, so I get all this to myself. It's a bit like I'm on a business trip, given it's more like a hotel suite than a cruise ship cabin – except I can't do any work at all while I'm here." He smiled faintly and looked down at the carpet between them for a second. "Jason saw to that. I think I told you that already. But…I'm starting to get used to it. I think."

He gestured towards the balcony, indicating they should walk there. "Come on," he suggested for good measure. "We've got a few minutes before the ship docks, so let's make use of the balcony for a moment." He was happy to see that she didn't object, although he made sure he wasn't standing too close to her as they stepped out to the railing outside his cabin.

"Well…I think I've got everything covered for our little day trip," he agreed thoughtfully. "At least I hope I have. Comfy clothes, comfy shoes, wallet, phone is charged, bag to carry things in, hat to make sure I don't get sunburned…and the card to my cabin for when the day ends." He paused to take her in, and he was forced to admit to himself that she looked quite good in the light-yet-functional attire she'd dressed in. "Looks like you've got everything organised as well. Between us we should make it half-way to one legitimate tourist." He grinned faintly, then looked out over the expanse of the Caribbean.

"No…I don't think I've got anything planned," he offered after a few seconds. "I mean, I know I don't want to do the obviously-tourist things – they've going to be both crowded and cliché. I'd rather find quieter places and just really look around, maybe just engage with a few locals. Oh, I'm sure I'm going to have to do something that's obviously part of the tourist-thing – my sister will be virtually demanding it – but I don't want to get lost in that. If I get a few photos proving I was in a different part of the world, get a few trinkets to keep her and her family happy…then that will do me."

He paused, then looked sideways at his companion. "You said you want to connect – with what, if I might ask? What are you looking for when you step off the ship in thirty minutes' time?"
 
He spoke of his boss, and suddenly the reality that her world would be someday warmed within her. There would come a day when she was the one with the boss, living on her own perhaps, with plans, a life, that was so different from the one she had now. It filled her with hope. A smile as warm as the feelings she was wrapped up in spread across her face. It was his gesturing to the balcony that further broadened her smile. She had hoped he would offer, as the views were spectacular. Stepping out into the salty sea air, she breathed in deeply. Already there was a change coming over her. She was mesmerized by the way the sunlight danced and reflected on the smooth sea. At times, it almost seemed too much to gaze at, like a light being targeted to her eyes by a mirror. It was brilliant, bright, and as calm as the ocean itself. It was familiar as well, like the pond back home that she would pass every single day. The light is often the same shade on the water's surface. Her eyes lifted to the sun, the same sun that would shine on her back home as well. Even so far away, something familiar tugged at her mind.

She listened to him talk about doing the tourist thing. Of course, she would as well. She had heard the stories of how the locals would bombard people getting off the ship, trying to gain their business as they pedaled their goods to them. Still, she wondered if that was true. Would they be met by a sea of people wanting them to buy necklaces and purses or miniature statues? Soon enough they would both find out. Posing in front of landmarks, places that the internet and those that had visited here before had raved about just to prove that you were there came to mind. It would all be so cliche true, but it would also be the steps leading into what she truly wanted.

His question drew a soft laugh as she lowered her gaze to the still waters. "It's a feeling really that I want to connect with. There was this guy that I knew once, Alvie. We were friends, good friends. We shared a lot, and things took a turn for something more," she told him, glancing at him to emphasize the something more they had become. "Anyway, I remember the one-night things became more. It wasn't sex. No. That didn't happen. It was a touch of the hand, a look, a smile," she continued, her mind going back to that night as it often did. "There were not many words. There wasn't any need for them. He kissed me and held me, and I remember feeling weightless like I was indescribable. The feeling is indescribable. I know it has to sound crazy and silly, but I want to connect to that feeling, the feeling of something so new and exciting that it makes your heart race, and it makes you," she paused. "Weightless." Her gaze returned to him. "Crazy right??"
 
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