Page 8 of Adrift

Captain gives me a nod, and his eyes land on the floor. He’s leaning on the edge of the counter with his ankles crossed, sipping coffee. Not moving, like he’s waiting for me to finish.

I take a long sip from my water bottle. Captain Sam makes one heck of a thirst trap just standing there with hisMermaid’s Talemug.

I flip the notepad open to the primary cabin, but the words float on the page. What were Shay and I talking about before? Is it his presence that’s keeping me from thinking? Or the jet lag and lack of sleep and food? Or quite frankly, all of it?

I circle a few things on the page and write “must do” down next to the primary closet. But I’ve totally forgotten the rest of the stuff Shay and I were discussing. Staying a moment longer, I hope it makes it look like I wasn’t just daydreaming about the captain’s ass. Oh, shit, now I’m truly thinking about his ass.

I glance up. He’s staring at me, and I can’t stop wondering what’s going on behind his blue eyes. “All done.” I raise the notebook and head out of the crew galley. “Have a good night, Captain.” Then I remember the plate on the table. I turn to get it.

He’s already scraped it and is washing it.

I rush to his side. “Oh, Captain. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to have to do that.”

“It’s fine, Haley. You’ve been working awfully hard, and it’s not going to get easier...” He trails off and nods. Like in a horror movie when the main character tells the clerk at the convenience store outside of town they’ve just inherited the mansion on the hill.

I clasp my notebook tightly to me, hugging it like a shield. It pushes my breasts up to an obscene level under my chin.

His eyes drop to my chest, then quickly flick up. I drop the notebook to my side. “Well. Thank you. I won’t forget in the future.” I turn to flee for the hallway to the crew quarters—mine is the first room on the starboard side—but then I spin around again and give the captain a quick wave.

He nods back. “I know you won’t.”

“Goodnight.” Racing to my cabin, I drop the notebook on the empty top bunk and collapse in my little bathroom. Small spaces have always made me feel secure. I did a transatlantic repositioning cruise from the Caribbean to the Med with no guests a few years ago—and as the only stew. I could have slept in an empty guest cabin. I did for one night. But I never fell asleep. I prefer my little bunk. I’m not crazy, though. I did use the palatial primary bathroom. As the person responsible for keeping it clean, my old captain let me decide.

That’s the thing with yachting. There are rules. And a lot of them are the same on each boat. But a lot of them depend on the personality of the captain. I’m getting good vibes from Sam. He cares about his crew.

I pull on my pajamas, which are yoga pants and an oversized crew T-shirt. It’s so big it would fit Calvin. After crawling into my bunk, I stare at the underside of the top bunk. It still has manufacturing stickers on it. My eyes close, but three a.m. means nothing to my buzzing brain. I’m so overtired. But I can’t stop cycling through everything we have left to do. And when the chef comes tomorrow, he’s going to flip out. The upstairs galley—the one he uses for the owners—is a shit show. Boxes stacked everywhere. The microwave isn’t even installed. One of the giant walk-in fridges is still off. And... chefs are always the craziest out of all the crew. They’re also the main reason for a big tip or no tip at all.

Anyway, I can help him. I will. I just hope he’s normal crazy, not over-the-top psycho. The pictures on his Instagram account look amazing. But not everything you see on Insta is real.

I have to turn my brain off. One hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight...

Screw counting. I slide my hand down my stomach and into my underwear. BOB is in my suitcase under my bed. I wish for the hundredth time that I could get off without having to think of someone, but my brain doesn’t work that way. As my finger circles my clit, I picture it being Captain Sam’s hand.

My legs spread farther apart, and I push my yoga pants out of the way. His other hand is behind my head, those blue eyes of his locked onto mine. He kisses me.

I dip my index finger between my lips and spread the release around my clit, working it harder. When the captain pulls back, it’s Zane. It’s better not to think of the captain. I picture Zane kissing down my chest, his tongue circling my clit. When he lifts his head, it’s Calvin, the engineer who has to be a former linebacker. He picks me up and holds me against the bathroom door. It bangs with each of his thrusts. I hold on to his neck, clinging to his massive shoulders. Until I come.

My chest is heaving, and I pull up my pants, hoping my little activity didn’t make too much noise. I get up and wash my hands and, with the softest crew wash cloth I’ve ever touched, between my legs.

There’s a soft knock on my door. Crap. I pull my pants up and answer it. “Hey.”

Calvin stands in the doorframe. Like the whole thing. The man is massive. And while my little self-help session was, well, helpful, I’m betting this man in front of me could have made it better.

“I was just wondering,” he says, “is the electrical in your room flashing?”

“I don’t know. I was just going to sleep. I turned them off, like, twenty minutes ago.”

“Shit, sorry to wake you up. I’m chasing these circuits. Nothing’s labelled right. I’m trying to install the microwave.”

I glance back at my battery-powered clock. It’s running, but the one on the nightstand that’s built into the wall is dark. “That one is off.”

“Perfect.” Calvin flicks the dead switch on the wall. “Thanks. Sorry for waking you up. I heard you in the crew galley a few minutes ago and didn’t think you’d be asleep yet.”

“No, not asleep.”Just thinking of screwing you and half the boat.I pull my lips into my mouth.

“Okay, well, get some sleep.” He turns and heads back to the crew mess.

My feet shuffle after him on their own.

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