Chapter Two
"Are these real beginnings, or false starts?" –Juliet Mitchell
Kayla is nineteen, only two years older than me, but she is attending an art school, so she lives at home. My parents don't mind too much anymore. They used to really want her to do something extraordinary with her life, but then they realized that she's happy pursuing a career in beauty, and since that makes her happy, they are happy too now. It just means that the pressure is on for me. They want at least one of their two children to do something wondrous, like become a heart surgeon, or, even better, create a cure for cancer.
My Mother and Father run a chain of hotels in the California coastal areas, and that brings in a lot of revenue, so we're pretty well off. We just recently had our Alaskan cabin built, so when our cruise is over, this will be our first time staying there. I convinced my Father to let us get a husky pup up there, so we will all meet the new family member in a week's time. Kayla's the most excited of all of us to meet him or her. Sure, I'm excited, but the true excitement won't set in until I meet him or her. That's when it becomes real.
I mull this over as a female voice comes on over the intercom, and we are all herded into sections of the big cruise ship, and, soon enough, we are all one big mass of glaring orange life vests waiting for further instructions. For a long half an hour, the voice drones on as workers demonstrate what to do in case of emergency. I zone in and out of focus, and by the time we are all released to find our rooms, I nearly sprint towards the elevators.
We leave shore later that night with another intercom announcement saying that in two days' time, we will be approaching the large island of Hawaii, Hawaii. I'm giddy as I watch the ship slowly cruise away from the port, towards the vast ocean where there will be nothing but blue and the creatures underneath it all.
Mom insists that we go to the formal dinner the cruise is holding that evening, so we all dress up. I borrow one of Kayla's dresses, a deep plum one with flowering buds wrapped around it. As we're walking down the hallways together, a boy about my age dressed in a gray tuxedo runs past me, his shoulder sending me barreling into my Mom. He turns around and shouts an apology as he continues to run. His blonde hair flaps wildly on top of his head as he squeezes into the overloaded elevator, and a smile of triumph is the last I see of him before the doors close.
"Are you alright?" Mom asks me as I push myself off of her, already regretting the heels Kayla insisted I wear with the dress.
I nod. "Fine. What was that all about, anyways?"
"Someone's anxious to get to the dinner, surely," Dad says, clasping Mom's hand and smiling.
"I guess we know who's going to be getting their food first," Mom replies, laughing. I don't find it that funny; he really had to barrel right through me?
Of course, not three minutes later, when we make it down to the deck where the fancy dining room is, he is standing right in front of me at the entrance of the dining room with his family, bickering with a younger girl who has the same tousled blonde hair with natural layers of dark hair underneath. She hits him in the arm, causing him to take her in his arms and give her a brain scrambling noogie. She kicks out blindly with her feet, which are suspended from the ground, and hits him directly in the place where it counts.
He drops her and bends over, groaning. I can't help but chuckle. All of the things I have seen from this boy have led me to a mild resentment. He turns around to look at me once he has caught his breath, and almost instantaneously a spark of recognition kindles in his brown eyes.
He stands up and straightens out his gray suit jacket. "You know," He says, taking two confident steps towards me, "I feel this uncanny pull to you, almost as if I've seen you before." A smirk pulls its way across his lips, and I can't help but watch as I feel it grow along my own face.
"Boy who barreled past me in his unprecedented rush to the elevator. How would I ever remember a face like that?" I ponder sarcastically.
He shrugs. "Can't miss a meal. It's bad for your health." I look at him more closely, then. He has a splatter of freckles along each cheekbone, and some of his blonde hair falls along his forehead, but not in a shag kind of way. His brown eyes are caramelized, and I like looking at them, I decide.
"Chase," He offers, extending a hand. I look at it for a moment, then look back up at his face when Kayla's high-heeled foot kicks at my Achilles heel, indicating that I am actually supposed to say something in response.
"Anya," I tell him, putting my hand in his. He gives it one goofy, large shake that jostles my whole shoulder as the little girl, who I assume is his younger sister, pulls on his sleeve.
"Chasey! We're next, come on!" She pulls again, more forcefully. He smiles back at her.
"Alright, give me a second!" Chase turns back to me. "Anya. It was nice to meet you."
"A much more pleasant way the second time around, wouldn't you say?" I tell him, smirking as I release his hand.
He smiles, revealing two perfect little dimples. "I'll see you around, Anya." He turns away to scoop up the little girl in his arms as his parents walk through.
"Not. Even. Fair." Kayla says, grabbing my shoulders and spinning me around as Mom and Dad check in at the booth so that we can get seats. "We're on the first night of this damn cruise and you already have a fucking suitor. Un-fucking-believable."
"McKayla Bellamy," Dad warns, using her full name as he shoots glances behind us.
"Yeah, yeah, I know, no vulgar language in public. Got it." She grumbles as we march forwards into the over-sized dining room that is jam-packed with chandeliers, the smell of wine, and classical music.
"Don't be jealous," I murmur into her ear. "You'll get a guy." She stops and looks at me. "The tattoos mixed with the smell of diesel fuel and cheap candy will go really well with your strawberry shampoo." She gives me the glare that she gives when I've really insulted her; a mixture of mortification and pure, unbridled fury.
We love each other, but it's just so easy to poke at her. Kayla is just as pretty as me, if not more. It's just that most of time, guys are intimidated by her appearance; it's more the kind of appearance that you would look at on a CoverGirl magazine rather than strolling the streets of suburban California.
We are guided to seats right next to the large glass windows of the ship, and while it seems a privilege, I don't understand why people pay more to sit here in the evening; the only light you'll find is from the cruise ship, and the sea creatures are dark colored, so it's not like you're likely to see anything more than a silhouette, if that.
Still, it's a good distraction to look at the broken waves of water that the ship passes through as we wait for our meals. Mom and Dad chatter non-stop about snorkeling in Hawaii while Kayla talks about how great it'll be to paint and take pictures.
"You'll model for me, right Anya?" She asks, turning to me. "Complete with the whole backdrop of the sunset and the sharp blue evening waves in Hawaii, so it'll distract the viewer from your face…mostly." She gives me that evil payback look, but I know she's only teasing.
"Oh good. I wouldn't want to take away from the picture." I tell her, and Kayla smiles, obviously happy that I've basically just signed to wasting one day of our vacation on the beach, getting my make-up, hair, and wardrobe done with her. It makes her happy, though, and truthfully, the pictures don't turn out to be too awful.
The food is taking so long to arrive, and I've sipped through two glasses of sparkling water already, so I excuse myself and beeline it for the restrooms, which are in the far corner of the dining room. I turn a corner so sharply that I don't see the person in front of me before I smack into their chest. As we both stumble, I realize I'm looking into gray.
Well, shit.
Chase is underneath me, and as I prop myself up on my arms, he gives me an impish smile. "Anya. It seems like we're pretty even now."
Yeah, but we won't be if I don't get off of him soon, because my bladder is about to unleash World War III all over his pants. "Can I apologize to you in, like, thirty seconds? I'm about to pee my pants." I tell him, completely blunt with my explanation.
Shock definitely registers across his confident face, but he regains his composure and helps me up. "Sure. I can wait." I grumble a thanks and sprint the next twelve steps to the restroom, where I skid on the tile floor before making it into a stall and sighing with relief. That was a dangerous situation I just navigated through right there.
As I leave the bathroom, bladder completely satisfied, I see Chase leaning casually against one of the corridor walls, arms crossed, the gray suit jacket draped over one of his arms. He turns to look at me, and I flick the hanging droplets of water off of my fingertips.
"That better be water, and not your pee," He says, whisking one off of his cheek.
"You'll never know, will you?" I challenge. He shrugs; this seems to be a signature move of his.
"So, you definitely look like you're at least sixteen." He muses. I nod. "Good! That means you can come to the party they're throwing tonight. Sixteen and up, teenagers only…Do you know what that means?" He asks, leaning in. I stare at him, not offering a response. "No supervision."
I laugh, somewhat wary. "You're not trying to drug me, Chase, are you?"
"Nah. It'd be too hard for a sixteen year-old like me to get my hands on drugs." I arch an eyebrow. "Okay, not really, but let's be real. I don't really want you to fall on top of me again."
I full out laugh at that. For some reason, I trust him. "So, what do you say, Anya?"
I pretend to mull it over. "I'll have to get parental approval, but it sounds like it should be alright."
Chase beams and pulls out a pen from his pants pocket before grabbing my hand. "932" is what he scribbles on the underside of my wrist before blowing on it and releasing it. "That's my room number. Come by after you're all ready to go and whatnot."
"You want me to pick you up?" I ask incredulously.
"Well, I don't want to wait around while you put on your face," He says teasingly. I notice that if he weren't so charming, his words would be considered very rude. He pulls it off nicely, though.
I roll my eyes, mock-exasperated. "Alright. I'll meet you around ten?"
"Sounds good." He says. "See you at ten, Anya!" And he skips away. Skips! It makes me chuckle for so long that I am still smiling when I return to my seat, where my plate of pasta is waiting, steam coming off of it in curls. Needless to say, I dig in, the smile staying on my face the whole time.
† † †
I'm knocking on the door to room 932 at ten o' clock sharp, fidgeting with my sailor-striped romper and flipping my hair over my shoulder. An older version of Chase opens up the door and looks down at me. "Anya?"
I nod. "Yes sir." Just then, Chase pops up behind him, a wife beater and black jeans over his chest and legs, and he looks so completely different than he did in his suit that I'm staring at him until who I assume is his father clears his throat, and my attention is shifted back to him.
"Back by one, Chase," He says, a warning tone in his voice.
"Okay, Mom," He says sarcastically before wriggling past his Father and slamming the door. Chase turns to look at me, exhales loudly, and says "Shall we?" While extending an arm playfully.
I look at his arm. It's very muscled, something that didn't show up in his suit. I thrust my arm through his, and as we walk to the upper levels of the ship, the captain comes on through the speakers, announcing that we've hit a rough patch of water, but not too worry. Apparently it's normal.
The music blasts so loudly, that I can hear it from three halls away, and I guess I involuntarily squeeze Chase's bicep, because he looks at me and says "Don't worry, I'll keep you by my side the whole night so you don't stumble on top of anyone else." He flashes me a goofy grin that makes me melt, and I nod, happy with the particular arrangement.
The guy at the door stamps our hands—which I don't understand; it's a cruise ship, where are we going to go?—and Chase tows me through the entryway, and suddenly I'm surrounded by many other teenagers in revealing clothes swaying to the music under neon strobe lights that make me feel disoriented. Chase pulls me closer by my hips and we're dancing close to each other. I laugh, throwing my head back, the music and the lights pushing energy into my veins, and I'm so happy to be close to Chase, to all these other people that are feeling the same way I am.
I slide my arms around his neck, and he wraps his arms tighter around my waist so his hands are clasped behind my back. I tilt my head up to look at him and wonder how, just a couple of hours ago, I had resented him. "Why were you in such a rush earlier today?" I yell up at him. He looks down, a small frown on his lips.
"I had something to do before I met up with my family. Just had to say hi to someone."
He looks away, but I reach up with my hand to cup his chin and bring it back to look at me. He smiles down at me, and I see him lean down towards me the slightest bit, so I close the distance between us and meet his lips.
My first thought while I'm kissing him is that Damien is going to be so jealous. And that I couldn't call him, because I am floating, sailing through the ocean, kissing a boy who wants to kiss me. The second, more startling thought is that Chase tastes salty, like seawater, like fish. Strange, because his breath doesn't smell like fish; it's just the way he tastes, like he's spent a million years in salt water and the salt is now ingrained into every pore…like he is a part of the sea. It's not unpleasant, it's just not what I was expecting, and I turn over this thought in my head as his lips part, forcing mine to too, and we fall into a slow, rhythmic pace of kissing that is just right.
Apparently we've been kissing for awhile, because a small circle forms around us, ooh-ing and ahh-ing like it's a spectacle to watch two people kissing. I pull away first, conscious of the crowd of people we've unintentionally gathered, and look up at him. Chase smiles down, telling me "I've wanted to do that every time we've run into each other."
"Why didn't you?" I ask him, pulling back just a little as the crowd dissipates so we can dance in a public yet private setting.
"It's not very, oh, what's the word?" He pauses and crinkles his brow, concentrating. "Chivalrous, to kiss a woman you have just met. I am very pleased you have broken the barrier, though."
His speech has just reached incredibly formal heights, as if we were discussing a business deal. "Well, I am very pleased I did that also," I say, trying to match his language.
He chuckles. "Sorry about that, I didn't mean to talk like that. It's just that I speak that way with my family, so it's hard to forget that I don't have to speak that way, you understand?" I nod. "Good. I'm not trying to be creepy or anything." He tells me, and he sounds like the Chase I've gotten to know in these couple of hours we've been acquaintanced .
He leans in for another kiss just as the ship lurches to the side, and the ground falls out from beneath my feet.