Rock the Boat

by Gia Riley

  His stubble is rough against my skin, but I love the way it feels. I’ve never been interested in a guy with facial hair or ink, yet here I am, insanely attracted and completely spellbound.

  “You don’t want me?” he questions, skeptically. He seems baffled I could want his company more than his body. Another quality that makes him more of a mystery.

  “I do want you, Easton, but there’s a lot more to be attracted to than your body or your band.” I remove my hand from his face, taking a deep breath before I say this next part, hoping he doesn’t reject me or get upset. “We’ve gotten acquainted in the bedroom, but if you’re up for it, I’d like to get to know the rest of you—outside of the bedroom.”

  “Why?”

  “I think we owe it to the two people who set us up—to see if there’s anything real between us worth pursuing.” My chest is tight and it would be easier to end it there, but I don’t want him to think I’m doing it to make someone else happy. That would be a lie. “And because I’d like it,” I whisper.

  After I’m honest with him, his eyes finally soften. I can’t blame him for having his guard up. I’ve been skeptical since Noelle made me take the test. But I’m here for six more days, and I won’t be able to stop thinking about him until I get off the ship.

  “What are you doing today?”

  I shrug my shoulders. “Noelle has a beach date with Lincoln, so I haven’t thought too much about it yet. You?”

  He smirks, “Are you asking or telling?”

  I walked right into that one. “I’m not saying we won’t end up back in your bed, but we would have a better chance of having an actual conversation if we weren’t in your room.”

  “This went from nothing to something pretty fast.”

  “It doesn’t have to be anything. No expectations, remember?”

  “No expectations,” he whispers, before wrapping his arms around me and resting his chin on the top of my head. He doesn’t give me an answer one way or another, so I wait for him to say the words.

  The words never come, so I step back, realizing he really isn’t looking for anything other than a hook-up. He doesn’t even want to try. He’s all tattoos and rock and roll, while I’m sweaters and Starbucks. We don’t look like a perfect match—we look like opposites.

  Before I walk out of his life, I give him a few more seconds to change his mind. After those precious seconds pass in the blink of an eye, I walk away, hoping he’ll stay on the balcony a little while longer—at least until I’m gone. He doesn’t do that, either.

  After following me inside, I think he’s going to apologize, or at least let me down gently. Instead, he silently opens his closet door and hands me my clothes. I take them from him, avoiding all eye contact. If I look at him again, it will only make this harder.

  Once I’m in the bathroom, I lean my head against the door, wondering how this got so intense. “It’s just sex, Lark,” I mumble to myself, as I take Easton’s shirt off and put my own clothes back on.

  Before I met Easton, all I wanted to do was sit on the beach sipping a margarita. That’s exactly what I need to do—forget about him and find the sunshine I’ve been craving. That’s what my body needs. Not him.

  When I come out of the bathroom, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed with the sheets still twisted and tangled behind him. I set his shirt on the coffee table and turn toward the door. Just as my hand reaches the door knob, he says, “Meet me in an hour at the gangway.”

  I turn around, completely confused that he can’t make up his mind. What changed in the few minutes I was in the bathroom, and why is he suddenly saying, yes? “What do you mean?”

  “You heard me,” he says, with a devilish smile. “Be there.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “The beach. There’s someplace I want to show you.”

  I try to hide my smile, like this is nothing more than two people hanging out for a couple hours—no strings attached. Only I’m pretty sure the strings that have been holding us apart have just been clipped. If it were to happen, we’re both free to fall. “Thank you.”

  “Why are you thanking me?” He grabs a bottle of water out of the mini-fridge, twisting the cap and sucking down half the bottle before taking a breath.

  “For inviting me to the beach.”

  This time he laughs at me. “I’m not a total asshole, Lark.”

  “I never said you were.”

  “I wouldn’t blame you for thinking it, but I’d be a shitty match if I didn’t take you out on at least one date. Right?”

  “The shittiest,” I joke playfully with a smile stretched across my face. I don’t know what changed his mind, I’m just glad it changed.

  Easton joins me in front of the door, pulling it open and leaning against it while we stand in the doorway. “Noted. I’ll see you soon, Lark.”

  With my purse hanging from my wrist, I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear and smile. “Bye, Easton.” I feel his eyes on me as I walk away. When I glance over my shoulder, he’s still standing against the open door with one foot crossed over the other.

  Turning back around, I wait until I’m around the corner before searching for the closest elevator, completely clueless about what just happened. Some moments Easton looks at me like he wants me. Other’s it’s like he’s looking right through me. I can never tell which version I’m going to get when I’m with him, but with only an hour to get myself together before we start all over again, I’m hopeful. Because this time, there’s the potential for more.

  Nassau, Bahamas

  It’s not every day I shed my jeans for swim trunks, but this is what Gina would call trying. Usually when I get off the ship in the Bahamas, I only have one thing in mind—grabbing a Jeep at the rental department and driving around the shoreline to find someplace quiet and secluded.

  Writing music has been my therapy since I got on this ship. I’ve almost finished enough material to record a new album once we get home. Today, I won’t be working on a new song, or trying to figure out the ending to the one I wrote last week. Today, I’m taking Lark on a date she deserves.

  Until her, reoccurring sex with girls I don’t see a future with has been enough. Even the semi-relationship with the dealer was purely physical. There was no reason to get attached or to look beyond the superficial attraction that brought us together in the first place. I thought it might be as easy to let Lark go, until she stared at me, needing more than I could offer her which right now isn’t much.

  It made me question if letting her walk away was the right decision. Yes, it would be easier and less complicated to forget about her. Problem is, after having a taste, she’s already got me by the balls. I feel her when she touches me. It’s not an absent touch with nothing to back it up like I’m used to. She’s gentle, caring, and sexy as fuck with her hair pulled back and sunglasses on top of her head.

  It baffles me how she can be so uninhibited when I’m inside her, yet shy when I’m not. From my experiences, it’s usually the other way around. But she’s standing next to me, waiting for the tender to take us to the small island the ship occupies one day a week, with her shoulders hunched like she’s caving in on herself. “You okay?”

  She nods her head, her glasses falling down her face, right where they belong. “You look different dressed like that.”

  “I can’t exactly swim in denim and leather boots.”

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “You have two choices. We can either go over to Atlantis and mess around there or we can go to Blackbeard’s Cay and chill.”

  She hesitates for a second, thinking it over. “I’ll let you surprise me. I’ve never been to either place.”

  We can be alone at The Cay. It’s the main tourist trap for the passengers on the ship, but there’s an entire side of the island they don’t even use. “We’ll go to the Cay then. Come on, we can get on this boat.” She takes my hand and I lead her toward the tender already filling up at the dock.

  We stand in l
ine, but I move behind her, letting her lean against my stomach with my arms wrapped around her. She easily settles into my arms and it scares me because that’s the way it was with Shay. I always had her close, her touch calming me as much as I relaxed her.

  I realize my entire body’s tensed up and I’m squeezing Lark a little too hard. I ease my grip, and thankfully it’s our turn to board. After I help her on, I move toward the back, sliding into the last row of seats where we’ll get the most air. Right now, I need it.

  “How long is the ride?” she asks, fanning her face with her hand. It’s got to be pushing a hundred degrees out here.

  “Ten minutes tops.”

  She pulls her top over her head, revealing a metallic bikini top, barely covering all of her tits. I pull her onto my lap just as the tender pushes away from the dock, jolting our bodies against the side. Her eyes are wide, and she wraps her arms around my neck so tightly, she might choke me. “Is it always this rough?”

  “I thought that’s how you like it?”

  She smirks, shaking her head because she couldn’t deny it if she tried. “Only with you for some reason. I’ve never done it quite like that, but you probably already knew that from my reaction.”

  “Yeah,” I laugh. “But honestly, I like that I can surprise you.”

  Lark lets go of me, moving like she’s trying to get back into her spot next to me, but I keep her on my lap where I want her. “I don’t think I’m allowed to sit like this.” She glances toward the front of the boat, checking to see if we’re being watched. We’re not, but being tucked into this back corner has me wanting to see how far she’ll let me go.

  My hand slides up her thigh and she smacks me with her hand. “They may not say anything about sitting on your lap, but they’ll say something about that!”

  “They won’t say anything to me.”

  “Why not?”

  “They just won’t, and if they do, I’ll still keep you right where you are.”

  “Do you always get your way?” She wiggles her ass, trying to turn closer toward me. She hits all the wrong places and there’s no doubt in my mind she can feel every one of them.

  “Usually, especially when I know what I want.”

  “So, you don’t just look like a rock star, you behave like one, too.”

  “I thought we established that in my bed last night.”

  She covers her face with her hands, laughing even though she doesn’t want to. “Ohmigod, Easton.”

  “You said that last night, too, gorgeous,” I whisper in her ear. “More than once.”

  When she finally raises her head, it takes her a second to look at me. “Is Easton your stage name or your real name?”

  “A little of both. Nobody would buy my music if I used my real name, so I changed it.”

  “It can’t be that bad.”

  “It’s not great.”

  “Please tell me.”

  “I’ve held onto it for years. For all I know, you’re a spy from a tabloid here to find out the truth.” It’s meant as a joke, but she pauses, hurt momentarily flashing in her eyes when she realizes I don’t trust her or her intentions. “I didn’t mean that the way it came out. I was joking.”

  “It’s okay. You wouldn’t have said it if there wasn’t some truth to it, but I’m not some groupie who wants to screw you and cash in on it. I’m not interested in Midnight Fate, Easton. I’m interested in you.”

  “Midnight Fate is who I am.” I live and breathe music to the point it consumes me at times. And I have enough faults to be a concoction of success and failure—both of which center around the music.

  “You have your own identity. I think I’ve seen some of it.”

  “You don’t know the half of it, Lark.” What she thinks she saw, was probably misconstrued into feelings that weren’t there. I can guarantee she has no idea the thoughts running through my head every second of every day. Mostly because I don’t always understand them.

  Like right now, I should be solely focused on Lark. Making sure she has the perfect day while I’m actually worried that what we’re doing is going to cause her pain down the road. And then there’s Shay to consider. I worry she’s watching our every move, waiting for me to do something to hurt her even though I’d stop what I’m doing if I knew she was in pain—even from Heaven.

  “I’m sorry,” she says, when she picks up on the shift in my mood. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I just want you to know I think your music is amazing, but it’s not the reason why I’m interested.”

  “Don’t be sorry. It’s all good. Speaking of good, is the bottom of this suit as small as the top?”

  She bites her lip, glancing at her chest. “It’s not that small. I’m covered.”

  “Gorgeous, one decent-sized wave and those pretty, pink nipples will be set free for the world to see.”

  Lark gasps, looking around to see if anyone heard me. “You need to find your filter, Easton.”

  There’s very little that fazes me these days. Not after living life out of a bus and on airplanes. Our first year on the road, I didn’t believe in the word, no. If my bandmates wanted to do it, we did it—even if it got us into our fair share of fights along the way. “So, it would bother you if I did this?” I slide my finger under the edge of the thin piece of material covering her, running my fingertip over her nipple.

  She bats my hand away, just as the engine cuts, saving herself from further embarrassment. I stand up, setting her on the boat deck in front of me. She picks up her bag but reaches for my hand, gripping it tightly like she’s afraid she might get tossed again.

  Once we’re off the boat she stays close, glancing up at me. “Your eyes match the color of the water.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah, they’re my favorite,” she admits while staring at the walkway in front of her instead of at me like she was. Shy Lark has made a reappearance.

  “Yours make me think of Cookie Monster.”

  “What?” she says with a laugh. “I compare you to the beautiful water and you compare me to a Muppet?”

  “It could be worse. If they were brown, I could have said the shit emoji on my phone.” She turns away from me, her expression a mixture of shock and humor. Consider this a test of sorts, if she’s the real deal, she’ll have a sense of humor. I can’t take uptight chicks who worry more about acting genuine than being genuine. Some qualities you can’t fake. A sense of humor is one of them. “It’s not so bad.”

  “Are we really talking about Muppets and poop on our first date? And if we are, then I’ll have to stop complimenting you so much and throw some digs instead.”

  “Darlin’ it wouldn’t be a date without a little fun.”

  “Speaking of fun, where are you taking me? Are we even allowed back here?” Lark questions, as I walk behind one of the small food tents on the back side of the island. “Everyone else is staying near the docks.”

  “Do you always play by the rules?”

  “Usually, I like to stay out of trouble.”

  “I’ll get you in all kinds of trouble.” She squeals when I pick her up and toss her over my shoulder, her bag falling in the sand next to the walking path. I leave it because we’re near the palm trees I was taking her to.

  Setting her down in the sand, I pick up the long stick resting against the tree, poking at the coconuts overhead. “Wait! Let me move before you knock me out.”

  “Good thinking, I usually do this solo.” I poke at the first one I can reach, it easily falling onto the ground. “Hang on a second,” I tell Lark, as I pick up the coconut and take it to the hut on the other side of the path. Once inside, I crack it open the way Aki taught me before putting two straws into the milk.

  Lark spots me as soon as I walk out of the hut, her eyes lighting up when she sees the straws inside the coconut. “Is it safe to drink?”

  “Yeah, I do it every week. Pretend we’re in Castaway. Tom Hanks would have died on that island without the coconuts.”

  “Th
at was a movie. I don’t think it counts. He would have lived regardless.”

  “Touché. If this were real life right now, you’d be thankful for this thing.”

  “This is real life,” she reminds me, cautiously. Her mood slightly dampened by my thoughtless comment. Even my subconscious isn’t sure about what I’m doing.

  “Right, what I meant was, soon you’ll see the staff walking around with expensive frozen alcohol in a coconut shell, but this is as real as it gets.” She may or may not buy my lame ass cover-up, but if it doesn’t put the smile back on her face, I’ll have to figure out another way.

  She stays quiet as she drinks, poking her straw at the thick band of white pulp inside the shell. “You mentioned rules, have you ever been arrested? Or is that a rocker myth—that you’re all in and out of jail at one point or another.”

  Her question wasn’t what I was expecting, and I have to think about how honestly I want to answer her. “I’ve been arrested three times in my life. The first was a drunken night on tour in Paris. I was out of hand, the bar exploded into a fight, and the next thing I knew, I was being hauled into the back of a cop car with the most obnoxious siren on the planet. They’re not the same as they are in the states. The second arrest was during spring break for open-container violations. The violations resulted in another fight because I was wasted from said open-container. The last was a little more recently.” The last arrest revolved around Shay, and since I’m not ready to tell Lark about the biggest part of my life, I leave out the reason I was locked up. Even though a good portion of that day is still fuzzy, the beginning and the end are times I’ll never forget.

  Dom’s punching my arm in the back of the funeral home, begging me to settle down. But all I see are the faces of people I’m supposed to love scattered around the room—very few having seen Shay through her final days. Where were they when she was struggling to breathe in the middle of the night? Where were they when she sat in the hospital begging me to take her back home so they wouldn’t stick her with another needle? They skipped out when she needed the support, only showing up when it was all said and done. Like their presence is somehow going to make up for all the shit we’ve gone through. “I never should have come here with all these assholes.”