by Matayo, Amy
“Line isn’t moving very fast, is it?” he asks.
“Not so far. It’s annoying, but hopefully it’s a sign of things to come. I could use a week of doing absolutely nothing at the slowest pace possible.” He laughs at me, then slips my beach bag off my shoulder and does the same for my mom’s duffle. My dad is the size of a linebacker, which coincidently is the position he played in college. A gentle giant, some call him. He could have played professionally and might have if they hadn’t had a baby—my older brother—ten months after their wedding. A surprise for sure. But to hear him tell it, becoming a father was the best surprise of his life.
My brother died from leukemia two days after his fourth birthday. I never knew him, though photos are plastered all over my parent’s house and I’ve heard stories upon stories of his precocious antics, all of which make me realize everything I missed. My father took the loss hard, still cried often even when I was old enough to remember it. His son, the only one he would ever have, was gone.
Somewhere early on in life during the witnessing of my father’s tears, I knew that no matter what it took, he wouldn’t ever lose me.
Some might think his life was steeped in regret, but he swears he doesn’t live with an ounce of it. When I ask him what might have been if kids hadn’t been a factor…if he wishes he could have made a career out of playing professional football, he says it’s like asking the sun what it might do if it could no longer shine. According to my father, his children are the sun that lit up his life and the game was just a way to pass the time.
Gentle indeed.
He’s a man who knows how to love his girls. No matter when and if I ever find someone to love, I won’t settle for anything less than a man as great as my dad. So far, no one has come close to measuring up.
“It’ll be a good trip. Your grandparents are already on board. Their flight landed early, so they’re waiting for us in the lobby. As for everyone else, have you seen anyone yet?”
“I saw the top of Aunt Barb’s red hair way up the line, but that’s all so far. I think most of them are probably already checked in. Teddy texted a few minutes ago to say they had just been dropped off.” I stand on tiptoe to look down the line and catch a glimpse of someone who could be him, but this place is so crowded it’s hard to tell. Then I notice his ball cap, the one I bought for him last year as a joke. On it is a picture of a wide-eyed cat with its back arched and hackles up, a quote that reads “Why yes, I am a bit stressed. Why do you ask?”
A psychology joke. We thought it was funny. Once he wore it on stage and a picture made it into People magazine. My biggest claim to fame, since the spotlight and I are not the best of friends.
I’m so happy he’s here.
But then I see who he’s with and grind my back teeth. I stop when I remember my dentist and his warnings. Not fair that his guilt trips are set to follow me to Mexico, an even bigger injustice considering Teddy’s friend Chad is following me too. I let out a lungful of air and face the front again, feeling more than a little guilty but unable to help it.
The guy has it bad for me. That might sound arrogant, but everyone knows. Last year he bought flowers for me and had them delivered to my office three different times. Three. Different. Times. And they were red roses, not exactly subtle. And that doesn’t even count the yellow tulips he hand-delivered on Valentine’s Day this year—I guess he thought showing up with them in hand would force me to cave and agree to date him.
I didn’t.
Either the guy doesn’t mind rejection or he’s the most persistent person in the universe. He’s nice, handsome even. But he’s too…normal. I’ve never felt a single spark, not even in the beginning when I actively tried. Look at him, Dillon. He’s cute. So cute. You’re crazy not to be attracted to him.
Be.
Attracted.
But nothing.
Chad isn’t the guy for me. My cousin Sabrina however, she’s on my radar. The two of them would go together nicely, something I plan to orchestrate all week from the confines of this ship. Dinner, the chocolate buffet, sunbathing on the deck—there are plenty of places I can think of to push the two of them together. Heck, I’ll even use my mom’s nightclub if I have to. Just because I don’t want to meet a man there, doesn’t mean I’m not above using one for them.
I face the front and hope they don’t notice us, ten people deep in front of them. Of course, the gods of good luck don’t shine on me. They never have; why should today be any different?
“Hey Dillon, want me to hold your suitcase?” How did he reach me so fast? Even my father had to bump and shove to make his way up here, but Chad approached like a cat burglar, all tiptoes and vapor shields. A little warning might have been nice.
“It’s on rollers.” I eye my bag and shrug. “I think I can manage, but thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Let me know if I can do anything to help. Hold your bags, lift them on board, help you to your room…”
Over my capsized body. I swallow a sigh and say nothing. Teddy however, doesn’t let the comment go.
“Dude, back off. I’m pretty sure Dillon can find the room on her own.”
“I’m just trying to help,” Chad mutters.
Teddy throws him a look. “Ask my aunt Christine if she needs help. Or better yet, help me. Here, hold my suitcase.” Teddy passes his oversized bag off and lets go without giving Chad a chance to protest. I look away quickly to keep myself from laughing, but catch the look on Liam’s face before turning all the way around. He rolls his eyes, then gives me a wink. Laughter bubbles up before I can stop it at the same time my face heats.
Liam.
As annoying as I find Chad’s over-attentiveness, I’d take the attention of Liam any day. When I first spotted him at a Fourth of July party a year ago, I went all mushy and nervous. Ten thousand fireflies lit up inside my stomach and they’ve never quite dimmed. In fact, every time I see him they tend to multiply. It’s hard to remain nonchalant when fire burns inside your lungs and limbs. I take a deep breath, working real hard not to look back at him. I fail miserably. I’ve looked twice and it’s only been five seconds.
Too bad he hates me. A girl makes one tiny crack about his questionable choice in profession and she’s vilified for it forever. He did just wink, though. Maybe that’s progress?
“I, for one, think you can manage your own bag,” a voice whispers from behind me. Of course it’s Liam because every cell on my skin stands at attention. I smile to myself and force my voice to work.
“That’s not very chivalrous of you,” I whisper back, proud of myself that my words sound steady.
“Nah, I’m just pro-feminism. Plus, there’s the fact that my own bag practically weighs three hundred pounds, and I can barely carry it. Never knew I was a weakling until now.”
Hardly, I think to myself. I’ve seen your arms and they are anything but weak.
I turn my head only slightly and follow my dad three steps forward. Finally, progress. Liam follows me, and I have the same thought.
“What on earth did you pack?” I ask him.
“Nothing but swim trunks and a couple kegs. A guy can’t be too prepared.”
My head whips around before I think better of it. Is he serious?
He winks at me again. He’s not serious.
I give him a look. “Nice to know I’m traveling with a teenage boy. Try not to get too drunk and fall overboard. I won’t be jumping in to save you. I just got my hair highlighted and I’m not about to ruin it for a man who makes bad choices.”
“Baby, getting drunk would be the least of the bad choices I plan to make this week.”
A shiver runs down my spine, and I mentally curse myself. I should not have this reaction to him; worse, I’m worried he knows it. It would all be a terrible predicament if I wasn’t at least partially certain he’s feeding me a load of crap. Still, I can’t let his comment go.
“Nice to know I need to keep my distance. You and your ‘bad choices’ don’t need a th
ird wheel tagging along.”
I feel his breath on my neck. “Three is never a crowd for what I have in mind.”
Okay, now I know he’s full of it. “Give me a break, Liam. I’m not buying any of the lines you’re feeding me.”
Now he laughs, loud enough that both my parents turn to study both of us. My mother smiles like she knows a secret—for real, I’m waiting for her to jump up and down—and my dad scowls like someone is taking his favorite book and might not give it back. I clear my throat and straighten my shoulders before either of them can get any ideas. Not that I would mind her having them about Liam. But I would die if she started verbalizing them.
“Dang, I thought I had you for a second.”
Actually, you had me a hundred different ways for more than just a second. But I only say, “Of course not. Do I look that gullible?”
A woman’s voice interrupts me before I can answer.
“Can I see your identification?”
I was so busy being distracted by Liam that I didn’t noticed we had made it to check-in. I hand over my passport to the woman behind the counter. After a quick glance at my papers, she stamps my passport and hands everything back to me. I take my bag from my father and follow my parents on board the ship. It’s huge, and I’m awed by everything I see.
I traveled to London in high school, Mexico after college graduation, and spent one night in Las Vegas after a storm delayed a flight home from California last year, but a cruise is a first. For a woman who loves to travel, I haven’t done much of it in my twenty-eight years of living. To say I’m excited is an understatement. About the cruise and the company.
My affinity for travel just ran headlong into my affinity for Liam. Some might call that Karma. I call it the same dumb luck that’s resulted in my dumping or getting dumped by three men in one short year.
Starting now, things are about to change. I’ve told myself this all week, but I’m finally starting to sort of maybe a little bit believe it.
“Dillon, my baby girl! You made it! Come here and give grandma a hug! We’re going to spend the whole week together, side by side, you and me. Maybe I can help you catch a man while we sunbathe. Boys like women in bikinis, you know. Or if that doesn’t work, I hear there are some good nightclubs on board that we could go to…”
I step into my grandmother’s arms and stifle a groan, desperately hoping no one—namely Liam—heard that lovely declaration. Clubbing with my mom and grandma, what a fantastic idea. Like mother, like daughter, it seems.
This should be a super-fun week.
CHAPTER 4
Liam
Boys like women in bikinis.
I laugh to myself for the twentieth time in as many minutes and toss a stack of t-shirts into the bottom drawer, trying to stake a claim before Teddy comes in and takes over every other drawer. For being a self-proclaimed minimalist, he brought enough clothes for a month. Apparently dressing casually for a week requires maximum effort. Unless you’re his grandmother, that is. I hear her words in my head again and laugh out loud.
“Stop laughing. It was horrifying, and she wasn’t even talking to us. Poor Dillon is probably hiding in her room by now, afraid to show her face.” Teddy emerges from the bathroom and unzips his bag. Sure enough, he’s filled two drawers in the time it takes for me to grab a couple pairs of shoes and stuff them in the oversized closet.
“More like afraid your grandmother will show her face. Or more than her face, if you know what I mean.”
“Shut up,” Teddy says, but I hear the amusement in the shudder of his voice. “One glimpse of her in a bikini and I’ll park myself at the bar for the rest of the week. It would take a lot of alcohol to get rid of that sight.”
I laugh and snap my fingers. “Hey, apparently that’s where Dillon can catch a husband, so maybe you’ll get lucky and catch a wife. Bright side.” A beach towel lands on my head, so I hook it around my neck. This towel is softer than the one I brought. I’m keeping it.
“You heard her say that too?” Teddy asks on a sigh.
“I heard her mom and your grandma say that too, and more than once.”
Chad’s head snaps up as though he’s just now hearing our conversation.
“Wait, Dillon’s wanting a husband? What bar?” he says.
Teddy and I both groan. Chad hasn’t spoken a word since we walked into this room, and this is what he chooses to say.
“I can’t believe I’m stuck in this room with you two all week, as though the apartment isn’t bad enough.” I’m lying, of course. Like our apartment, this room is huge and has a breathtaking view of the water. Though I like to think of myself as independent, I can’t imagine staying anywhere that doesn’t include the company of my two best friends. Even if one of those friends has already been asked for a dozen autographs since we came onboard and the other keeps acting like a lovesick puppy that we all need to quit feeding.
“Deal with it, dude,” Teddy says. “If I have my way, neither of you will even know I’m here. I plan to park my butt in a pool chair and stay there for the entire week. If things go my way, I won’t talk to anyone at all this week unless I have to.”
“Fair enough.” I remove the button-up I walked on board wearing and tug a clean t-shirt over my head. “I’m heading to the pool now if anyone wants to go. There’s a nap calling my name and I’m ready to join it.”
“I’ll come with you,” Chad says, followed by Teddy. “Man, when did we get so old?”
“Speak for yourself,” I say. “Nothing wrong with a twenty-nine-year-old man taking a nap in the middle of the day.”
“I’m almost thirty-one,” Chad says.
“You’re right, that’s embarrassing. So what, we’re old? If it means I can take a nap, then I’ll accept it. You guys ready?”
“I’m ready,” Teddy says. “But give me my towel.”
“Nope. Grab that old one of mine out of the top drawer.”
I hear the drawer open and then, “I don’t want this one. Mine’s brand new!”
I just keep walking. We’re on the pool deck before Teddy catches up. Try as he might, he never will get his towel back.
It takes a lot of effort to pretend not to watch a person, but pretending not to watch Dillon has taken up nearly all of the past hour. But come on, I’d been sitting in this lounge chair for three point three seconds when she plopped down onto her own chair across from me and pulled out the suntan lotion. And let me tell you this: pretending not to watch a girl is one thousand times harder when she’s rubbing herself in lotion, especially when she’s spending extra time making sure all her extra-sensitive parts are adequately covered.
When I couldn’t take much more, I balled up Teddy’s towel and tucked it behind my head, then pretended to close my eyes while eyeing her through slits. I’ve remained that way for the better part of an hour. All this pretending has seriously messed up my plans for a nap. Whatever.
Dillon rolls over onto her stomach and settles in with a sigh. Now even more of her is within view, and I roll my head to the side. How can a guy possibly relax with her flipping all over the place? For heaven’s sake, lie still. Preferably in a chair on the other side of the ship.
When Chad mutters under his breath, I realize I’m not the only one struggling. That only frustrates me more, because my slight and mostly insignificant crush on this chick comes with guilt. Chad once accused me of stealing his girlfriends. While that was only hypothetically true twice in high school—I was an arrogant jerk who occasionally made a point of targeting my shorter, non-athletic brother to prove that I was not the lesser son—this time I see his point. Chad moved here first and met Dillon first and got to know her first, which means he has dibs and we both know it. Childish maybe, but the Bro Code exists for a reason. If you don’t believe me, just ask Ted and Barney and the mother that I still haven’t met because I’m the last person in America to watch this television show. Thank goodness for Netflix.
I’m the one who initiated the real Bro
Code between us by way of apology. I grew up. I realized the error of my obnoxious ways. But mainly, I love my brother and won’t do that to him again. An easier vow to make when you live in another state.
Some other girl I’ve never seen before plops her beach bag on the ground next to Dillon and settles into the chair with a sigh. Her red curly hair is wild—think Carrot Top but slightly more tamed, emphasis on the slight—and hangs just past her shoulders. She reaches up and knots it with an elastic and…okay that’s better.
“Oh crap, I left my People magazine in the room. Do you have anything I can read?” She nudges Dillon on the butt, and I immediately cry foul. How is that fair? “Dillon, are you awake? I need a magazine. Do you have one?” When Dillon doesn’t respond, she girl pokes her ribs with a blue-painted fingernail.
“Ow! Why are you poking me, Sabrina?” Dillon comes up on an elbow and looks at her…friend? Sister? Who is this chick?
“I need something to read, and I left my magazine in the room.”
Dillon rolls her eyes and nods in our direction before she seems to get an idea and sits up a little. “You don’t need a magazine when you have people. You should talk to Chad. I think you both have a lot in common. Hey Chad, tell my cousin Sabrina about your job.” She looks at her cousin while I look between them to spot any resemblances. There aren’t any. This family is entirely too large. “He’s a broker or something. Aren’t you a broker like on Wall Street?”
“I’m an insurance adjuster in Nashville,” Chad responds. I nearly burst out laughing, but he sounds so distraught that she isn’t aware of his job. Chad’s career is his biggest source of pride, and Dillon just popped that pride with a pin and sent it spinning around the room.
She merely waves her hand in the air. “Oh, an insurance adjuster. Basically the same thing. She loves insurance, don’t you Sabrina?”
“No one loves insurance,” Sabrina mutters to herself, then scratches her eye. “Dillon, I don’t feel like talking. I want to read a magazine.”
Dillon worries her lip for a moment as though something isn’t working out right, then sighs. “Ask Teddy if he has one. I’m pretty sure he was actually in People magazine last week. ‘Stars, they’re just like us!’” She lies back down and props her chin in her hands.