A good couple months passed with no real significant happenings other than the government declaring that advertising on pirate radio stations was illegal for British companies. We didn't see Bob once. Life was actually getting a bit monotonous, but fate saw fit to change that. One night, as we all, yet again, congregated in the living area, Quentin came in with John on his tail. John blew a whistle a little too loudly for the confined space, and we all jumped and complained. Quentin rolled his eyes and began, "I have a very important announcement. As you may know, there has been a serious squeeze put on our advertisement by her majesty's government. This chart...which is upside-down." John quickly flipped it over. "Thank you. This chart displays what's been happening to our advertising revenue in the last few weeks." The trend was clearly one in the downwards direction.

"Ouch," Count commented.

"So, I've had to stir myself with my traditional languor and do something to make the station more attractive to commercial funds. Two years ago, something terrible happened, and we lost the greatest DJ pirate radio has ever known to America, ambition...and alcoholic poisoning." Everyone but the Count, Carl, and I seemed to know what was being talked about. "And then, in return, we got from America a man who proved more than capable of filling those enormous shoes."

"Woo!" I said and went over and clapped the Count on the shoulder.

"I do my humble best," he replied.

"And now, my friends, I have good news," Quentin continued. "Very good news. The strange and mysterious legend known as Gavin Cavanaugh has decided to return."

"No!" Simon cried in disbelief. Angus got this really excited look on his face and jumped up. Others also offered such displays of shock and excitement.

"Three weeks from today, Gavin Cavanaugh returns to rock on Radio Rock."

While the everyone else cheered, I simply said, "Yay?" I had no idea who this guy was, or why they were so excited about his return. The Count seemed just as clueless, and yet, he seemed a little put out by this news. Maybe he knew who Gavin was better than I thought.

Simon ran over to me and grabbed my hands, then started jumping up and down. "Be happy, Chelsea!" he said as we hopped.

"Why? I don't even know this guy."

"Believe me, when he gets here, you'll be glad you do." The next three weeks were spent awaiting Gavin Cavanaugh's arrival. I still didn't understand why everyone was so pumped, so I just dealt with their joyousness.

On the morning he was set to arrive, I was down in the studio watching Simon do his broadcast. He was nearly vibrating with excitement. "And this next song is for the coolest man on the planet, and he is about to step on board this ship! It is gorgeous Gavin Cavanaugh, and this week he is definitely number one!" Simon announced to his listeners just before starting a record, ripping off his headphones, and coming out of the studio. I was the only one down there. He grinned and grabbed my hand. "You're gonna want to see this, Chels."

I laughed as he yanked me up the stairs to the deck. "Why?" I called just as we emerged. We ran to the starboard side of the ship with everyone else, and I suddenly knew why. The transport boat was headed for us, and at the front was a man. He had on a deep purple suit with a stylish black hat. There were two, long feathers sticking out of it into the air, and his chin-length blonde hair was sticking out the bottom. He had on sunglasses, and it was obvious he thought himself completely cool. Everyone started calling out his name and waving like crazy people, so he kissed the tips of two fingers and pointed out at us. I scoffed and laughed a bit. "What a freak!"

"You better believe it!" Dave answered. "He's only the most amazing DJ that has ever been on Radio Rock!"

"Huh," I said to myself, turning my gaze back to the freak on the boat. There was something dreadfully sexy about this guy. It was sexiness I hadn't seen since boarding this ship. I finally decided it was the sunglasses.

Eventually, the boat reached us and Gavin Cavanaugh boarded Radio Rock. He went through hugging and shaking hands with the people he knew, and when he reached the Count, he said, "And you must be the Count!"

"I am he," Count replied a little stiffly.

Gavin held out his hand. "I wonder what that makes me. The king?"

"Or the clown." They shook hands while the rest of us laughed.

"Good to meet ya." He then moved down the line to Felicity and me. "And you are?" he asked her first.

"Felicity," she answered, shaking his hand.

"Rules change?" he inquired of Quentin.

"Oh, I'm a lesbian," she put in.

"Groovy! Always or mostly?"

"Absolutely always."

"So you say," he murmured, grabbing her butt. She jumped and laughed, then he turned to me. "And you?" he said smoothly. "You a lesbian too?"

"No. No, I'm not. Temporary exception to the rule. I'm Chelsea." I held out my hand to him.

Slowly, he took it. "Pleased to meet you, sweetheart," he said. Then, he turned back to everyone else. "Now! Take me to a microphone. I need to broadcast." He gave a quick salute to the Count who returned it.

And thus, the new Gavin Cavanaugh era commenced.

His first words at the mike were, "Are you doing something dirty? Are you doing something your parents don't know about? Are you breaking the law? Are breaking the rules? Open your knees and feel the breeze because Gavin's back...to stay."

I watched him work along with all the others. They really thought he was the greatest thing alive. Granted, he was charming, had a great voice, and he was hilarious, but...yeah, I was beginning to think he was too.

We all observed his shift for days, dancing and laughing. One day, as usual, I was dancing with Simon, and as the song ended, I turned around, and my eyes happened to catch on Gavin. He wore those sunglasses at all times of the day, but there was just enough transparency to see where his eyes were looking if the light hit them right, and his eyes were looking right at me. I basically froze like a deer in headlights for a split second, staring back into those eyes. It scared me a little. Was I happy that he was watching me? Maybe I had just caught him in a glance...so why was he still staring? Then, I blinked, breaking the gaze in which he had locked me, and I turned away. Even then, I could feel those eyes boring into my back. I almost ran from the room.

In the days following, I avoided Gavin, hoping to avoid making a fool of myself, and I think everyone noticed. Finally, the Count cornered me in the kitchen one afternoon, and bluntly asked, "Has Gavin been bothering you or something?"

"No. Why?"

"You leave the room every single time he walks in."

"It's nothing, Count. It's really nothing."

"Listen, I swore to protect you while you were aboard this vessel, and I intend to do that. If something is bothering you, tell me."

I smiled. "You can't protect me from a feeling, Count." Then, without allowing him to say anything more, I simply cleared out.

I had formed a bad habit of falling asleep on the couch in the living room, and it turned to my disadvantage. I had drifted off after a late game of Foosball with Mark, and I awoke to someone rummaging rather loudly around in the cabinets. I opened my eyes a crack and saw that it was Gavin. I was rather annoyed that he had woken me up, so I muttered, "What are you looking for?"

"The crackers."

"Crackers?" I whispered to myself. "Cabinet closest to the stove. Top shelf."

He grabbed them, then said, "Thanks, pigeon."

"Pigeon?" I scoffed, but he was already gone. I just couldn't get over this dreadful shyness around him. I tried to sound tough when I actually was around him, and it usually made me sound really stand-offish. I actually thought he was pretty freaking awesome, but I was scared to even hang out with him. I was beginning to wish he had never come aboard at all.

The next day, I was talking to Simon topside, and I noticed Gavin smoking up on the higher deck. My gaze kept slipping away from Simon and up to Gavin. Eventually, Simon noticed. "Why do you keep looking at him?"

"What?"

"Gavin! You keep looking at him."

"SHH!" I hissed.

He looked at Gavin, then back at me. "Oh...no. Don't tell me...you like him, don't you?"

"No! I absolutely do not! I think he's cool is all."

"Oh, come on. You can tell me! I'm your best friend, remember?"

"Seriously, Simon, I just think he's cool. Besides, what would a guy like that see in me?"

"Only that you're sexy, and funny, and quite cool yourself."

"Whatever," I said with a smile.

"Really! So, are you admitting to liking him?"

"No! For the last time, no. What can I say to convince you?"

He shrugged. "I dunno." I shook my head and playfully shoved him.

Later, I was ascending the stairs towards my room, and as I neared Gavin's floor, I heard Carl say, "Thank you, Gavin. I really appreciate it."

"Don't mention it, youngster. Remember, be gentle, but be firm. Be very firm indeed. And when you're done with it, run it under the tap, rinse it out, and use it again."

By this point, I had reached the top of the stairs. I stopped, closed my eyes, and grimaced. Carl came running by me. "Sorry, excuse me, Chelsea." He took off down the stairs that I had just come up.

When I opened my eyes, Gavin was still leaning on his door frame. I said, "The curse of living on a ship of men. You walk into all kinds of conversations you wish you had never heard."

One corner of his mouth lifted into a very alluring smile. "By the way, I'm sorry about waking you up the other night," he said.

"Oh...that's alright. I'm always grumpy when I wake up. I wasn't really mad."

He nodded. "Cool."

I nodded, too, and repeated, "Cool," before turning to go up the next flight of stairs.

"Hey!" he called, just as my foot was on the first step.

"Yeah?" I replied a little quickly.

"I listened to your show the other day. I thought you did very well."

"Thanks," I answered, irrationally thrilled at having received his approval. I smiled, looked at my shoes, then back at him, and said, "See ya," before jogging up the stairs.

Once I got to my room, I collapsed on my bed, unable to stop smiling. I was acting like a freaking teenager. I was terribly aware that, no matter what I had told Simon, I was crushing big time on Gavin Cavanaugh. While I was pretty sure it would lead to nothing, I decided I was going to allow it to continue, just for a little while. And, just as I came to that conclusion, there was a knock at my door. I opened it to find Gavin standing there. "What?" I asked.

"I realized as you disappeared up the steps that I really haven't gotten the chance to talk to you since I've been here, and I was going to see if you would like to join me on deck for a friendly conversation."

"A friendly conversation?"

"Yeah. You know, where are you from? Where'd you go to school? How old are you? That sort of conversation."

"Mhm. Well, Mr. Gavin Cavanaugh, I think I'm going to take you up on that offer."

"Groovy."

I slipped my shoes on, then followed him out to the deck. We went to the stairs to the higher deck and sat down side by side about halfway up. He lit a cigarette, took a puff, then offered it to me. "I don't smoke," I said quietly.

He shrugged. "Can't blame you. They say it does terrible things to your voice if you do it long enough. It would be a shame to ruin a voice like yours."

"The same can be said of your voice as well. Why do you think you're so popular as a radio DJ? All they have of you is your voice."

He nodded and took another puff. "Oh well." I chuckled and looked out over the North Sea. "So," he said slowly, "where are you from?"

"Sheringham. You?"

"Pembrokeshire, Wales."

"Ah, I thought there was a tiny bit of Welsh twang in that accent of yours."

He grinned. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-five. Almost twenty-six. You?"

"Mm, I wish I was still in the twenties. I'm thirty-three."

"That's not bad."

"Maybe not, but it sounds bad."

"You've got girls of all ages all throughout the UK that absolutely adore you. They don't care how old you are. Does that sound better?"

"A little," he chuckled. "And what about you? I'm sure you've got a fan-base out there. Imagine how many guys jack off to the sound of your voice."

"Fuck, that was not a visual I needed!" I exclaimed, shoving him.

He snorted and shoved me back. "Just picture it. All those guys..."

"No! Shush! Shut up!" I put my hand over his mouth. "No more of that," I said before removing it.

"Fair enough." He waited a moment before asking, "Do you like being a DJ?"

"Yeah, I really do. I only recently discovered my love for rock n' roll, but this job has helped it along so much. And this group of people is the best. I love this ship. How could you leave?"

He grew thoughtful and looked out to the horizon. "I felt held back. I don't know why. I've tried to explain it to myself ever since I left. I just needed bigger and better things."

"And yet, here you are again."

"Yeah." He turned his gaze to me. "The bigger and better things turned out to be not quite big enough and not quite better enough."

"You're more insightful than I ever gave you credit for."

He raised an eyebrow. "I could very well say the same."

As the sun disappeared, he actually took his sunglasses off. "Oh my god! The glasses come off?" I cried. "I thought they were permanently fixed to your face!"

He rolled his eyes. "Ha ha."

"You have eyes! And they're...blue? I don't know. It's dark out here."

"Yeah, they're blue."

I glanced down at my watch. It was going on 10 o'clock. "I think I better go to bed," I decided, and I stood up. "Thanks for the friendly conversation. I don't feel as shy around you anymore."

He smiled up at me. "Good. That was my intent." I jogged down to the deck, and right as I got there, he called, "Nighty night, pigeon."

I turned and gave him a grin. "Night, Gavin."