First of all- I'm sorry. Sorry that I haven't updated in so long. I can't possibly describe how sorry I am. I have had so much time to write… but I just haven't. But I am determined to get better- once and for all. I promise.

A special thanks to my loyal fan Marie who never gives up on me. You opened my eyes to my horrible mistakes. I understand now that there is more to this than me, it's all of you as well. And yes- I'm exaggerating. I make this sound like I'm supposed to be the president or something, but maybe this is just as important to me as it is for Hilary Clinton to become the president- I don't know.

I would also like to thank DreamCastinn for being so incredibly unselfish and generous and dedicated, who was ready to give me money for this story to continue(and no, I didn't say yes. I'm better than taking money from my own fans)

Isabella's POV

The most probable option for me to socialize with someone on this trip is to meet some new people, since the folks I'm traveling with is kind of excluded. I mean, look at them- my mom, her new friend and a guy I'm trying to avoid? Yeah, three weeks of alone-time is a better option, but meeting some new people is an even better one! Perhaps I could sneak off to some club after we're done 'exploring' this boat.

I look before me where mom and Linda is talking, Phineas walking beside them. He's looking moderately bored by listening to their conversation and instead he's fiddling with something he probably found in his pocket.

I sigh and look down at the floor. Sure, if I manage to sneak away and get some new friends and perhaps some little vacay-romance I'll have a great time. But, what about him? Is he just going to sit in a lounger, reading a boring book for these weeks? I'm the only one in his age who's with his company here, perhaps leaving him alone with two mothers would be an incredibly mean thing to do… this isn't a vacation you get to go on every year if you're in his shoes, so wouldn't it be nice to give him a vacation to remember?

No, Isabella. You are avoiding this guy. Therefore, you are not to care about him even the slightest. Just, walk away from the crowd when you feel like you have an opportunity. Tonight, after dinner! Forget Phineas, he's a big boy. He can take care of himself.

We reach the deck and I walk up to the railing, looking down into the great ocean and its mighty waves.

I've always been kind of fascinated by the ocean. Who wouldn't be? It's enormous, it's mysterious, it's strong and inviting… and it's free. Free to make its own choices, it doesn't have to listen to what anybody says. It takes its own course and everybody else has to shape their life-style to its will. The ocean practically controls the world. One huge wave and we're doomed.

I guess I kind of went by the ocean's way of living when I changed. But I only saw it from one perspective; the power it had. Not that it had the ability to deliver water into dried areas, or quench people's thirst or its mightiness. But most of all- its ability to cooperate with the other forces. With the sand, the mountains, the wind and the sky. It doesn't consume its opponents, it learns to live with them and together, they create the world. Perhaps that's the way I should see it. The ocean isn't the only force in this world. But at the same time- it doesn't bend to its opponent. It stands strong and knows where it's heading, and it doesn't invite all the forces to cooperate with it. Some of them, it drowns.

….

3 hours later

I twirl in front of the mirror to inspect my dress. It's a really beautiful one- considering the fact that we're eating in the fanciest restaurant on the boat. Everyone who booked first-class got a table there on their first night. So of course, you gotta look like you belong.

The dress reaches the middle of my thighs and is tight all over my body, hugging my curves. It has long sleeves, but they're in a much thinner fabric than the rest of the dress, much like the fabric of a veil, but far more stretchy.

It's a black dress, with some sort of silver-pattern running along it. It's almost like someone has taken glue, swirled it all over the dress in squiggly lines and then poured silver-glitter onto it, even the sleeves. The neckline is deep and shaped like a square on the back, ending just below the scapula. It's the same square-shaped neckline in the front as well, going down just so the cleavage is a little bit visible and it stretches out to the end of the collarbones.

To the dress, I wear a pair of black high-heeled sandals, a silver necklace with a diamond charm hanging from it in the front and a charm-bracelet. My hair is up in a messy, yet elegant bun with some strings of hair falling from it. I wear a pair of tear-shaped diamond earrings as well, topped off with a white clutch-bag.

I look like some sort of upper class snob, but I'm extremely stylish. Aand that works good for me.

I touch my dark-red lips slightly to see if the lipstick will smear onto my finger, but no. It's perfectly stuck on my lips. I smile one last smile at my reflection, then I walk out to the common room.

Mom is waiting for me, dressed in a dark-green dress that reaches the ground. It's sleeveless and the entire torso is clad with glimmering gemstones. Her hair is not in her usual low ponytail, but it's out, flowing down her back in her blackish screw curls.

She sees me and gasps stunningly. "Isa, I don't think you've ever looked so wonderful! Well, you always do of course but… you're so beautiful!" she exclaims happily.

I smile and look down at myself. "Thanks, mom. You look really beautiful too! That dress really suits you well." I say nicely to her, gesturing to the dress.

She stares at me like I've just grown another head, stunned by my statement. She almost looks like she's seen a ghost, or she just heard the most shocking thing in her life. Then she smiles happily and hugs me tightly.

I freeze, shocked by her action. Then I slowly reach up and put my arms around her unsurely as well, patting her back uncomfortably. Did I say something? I just complimented her… it can't have been that special? Or, when have I actually complimented her lately…

She gives me no time pondering the thought as she releases me from her bear-grip and smiles one last smile at me, sighing slightly. She walks out the door, turning to me. "Come on, we can't be late for this!" she exclaims.

I take a deep breath and smile a crooked smile at her before hurrying out the door. We walk side by side to the restaurant, but all the time I look away from mom, to hide my unsure face that is.

What am I going to say to Phineas? I mean, it's a dinner after all, we are kind of bond to say something to each other when there's only going to be 4 people by the table. Okay, maybe I didn't think this through when I told him we should ignore each other's existence. It's kind of impossible.

As we walk into the restaurant I see a big, long table in the middle of the room, probably made for at least 20 people. The room itself is very big and fancy. The lights are rather dimmed, the golden ornaments all over the ceiling, the stairs, the chairs and the small details everywhere mixed with the creamy white color the rest of the place is makes it look extremely exclusive and aristocratic.

The table is kind of full with people, although there are some empty seats who are still waiting for someone to come. A waiter comes and mom gives us our name. He smiles and gestures to the long table and mom nods gratituidly , going to it. I follow her, confused by her choice of direction.

"Uh, mom? In my opinion, following the crowd is a certain path to boredom and commonness which is a bad lesson to learn your child. The world needs unique people and I think I'm gonna go ahead and be one of those." I say, looking around.

Mom shakes her head amusingly and looks at me. "Your speculations are just as pertinent as always. Honey, we're invited to the Captain's table to eat tonight! We can't just ditch that kind of invitation, it's an honor! Come on now, no more complaining." She says happily, but with a touch of firmness in her voice. I sigh and follow her to the table. It might be the best to accept, since he can literally desert me on some island in the Caribbean. And I don't want that, no.

We sit down at the end of the table beside each other, with two empty seats on the opposite side of the table. That's probably Phineas and Linda's seats, I suppose. I look around the table and the people surrounding it. There are only old looking, boring people who look like they experienced the crucifying of Jesus. Yeey, what fun I'm gonna have these following hours.

Mom immediately starts talking with the woman beside her, pleased with having other people to talk to than me day in and day out. That couldn't be so much fun.

I feel myself tapping my feet underneath the table, already as restless as a kid. It's such a bad habit I have, being bored out quickly. It happens all too often as well and it makes people think I'm a bad listener and like I just want the conversation to end. I kind of do, as well but I don't want anyone to think I'm a boring, bad listener. I guess there isn't that much to do about it.

Just as I'm about to explode from uncomfortableness, I hear a new voice by the door. I turn my head to see Phineas and Linda walk through the restaurant, towards our table. I mentally let out a sigh of relief and anxiousness. As I said, we are bond to speak to each other during a dinner, otherwise our mothers would surely suspect something, which will lead to them asking questions, which will lead to… well I don't know for sure, but I know it's bad.

They walk up to our table and sits down on our opposite side. Linda and mom smiles excitedly and starts talking about what a privilege it is to sit by the Captain's table. I seriously thought the Captain's table was a thing you did back in the 60's.

I direct my head down in my lap, but I peek at Phineas through my eyelashes. He's clearly watching me, confusion and curiosity hidden behind a shield of coldness in his challenging gaze. I sigh and put my chin in my open palm, my elbow leaning on the table. I don't really care if it looks rude, it's comfortable.

We eat our dinner and the dessert which takes about 2 hours. The worst part? I haven't spoken almost a single word while being here. I don't know what's most horrible- Isabella Garcia Shapiro being quiet among people, or her being extremely rude to old people. Not that I've ever cared about that before, I still kind of feel a knot in my stomach by probably embarrassing my mom like this. She doesn't seem to troubled, though.

I look around to see if anyone's paying close attention to me, and when I see no one is, I quietly slip of my chair and make my way out of the fancy restaurant. When I'm finally out, I rush towards… well, anywhere but here. Hopefully some kind of club.

Phineas' POV

I can really get used to luxury like this, and I can really really get used to food like this! Seriously, this is almost better than mom's pies. But just almost.

I swallow my last piece of panna cotta as I listen to the Captain's conversation. You know, he might be at the other end of the table, but we totally make it work, conversing like this. We've discussed boat engines during the most of the evening and I don't think I've had a more interesting conversation in a long time, except for those I have with Isabella. My life is boring, yeah. But seriously now, the conversations with Isabella is just… timeless somehow. I mean sure, half of them has ended in fights and chaos, but there's still something in them that I don't get tired of. I've never felt so real when I speak to her and I think I could listen to her voice again and again.

And of course I didn't miss the fact that she actually tried to slip off without anyone noticing just seconds ago. Just as I'm done with this conversation, I will check out where she's going.

"And that, Phineas, is why you should never ride a bull while wearing a red bodysuit." Finishes the Captain, with a chuckle. I fake-laugh slightly and stand up slowly.

"Yeah, thanks for the story! Promise, I won't ride a bull while wearing… yeah, I probably won't ride a bull at all. But unfortunately I think I have to go. I thank you for your curtesy and your invitation, it was a really nice gesture of you. I hope we meet again, and thank you everyone else for the company!" I exclaim, clasping my hands together.

The Captain laughs contently and points at me. "And thank you Phineas, for showing me that there sure are people in this world who knows more about boat engines than me!" he shouts happily. I laugh and look down on the floor, stuffing my hands in my pockets.

"Thanks sir, but I prefer to lay low about that. Thank you and good night everybody!" Oh goodness no, did I just say that? I sounded like some stand-up comedian who just made the flop-show of his life and oh no can the ground just swallow me now.

I walk as casually as I can out of the restaurant and when I'm out of sight, I dash off in the only direction Isabella could have went, since the restaurant is on the very end of the boat.

I walk around the deck with quick steps, but I can't seem to find her anywhere. Could she have already went down somewhere? Perhaps she's in her room? Although I don't quite get why she was in such a hurry to get away from the restaurant, if the only thing she was going to do was to go back to her room. Maybe she just didn't want to be near me. And I kind of hate myself for being slightly hurt by that, since I'm supposed to avoid her too. But no, instead I'm looking for her.

I make my down to our hallway and up to her door, where I raise my hand to knock. It stops mid-air though, and I stare blankly at the door. What am I even supposed to say to her? Hi Isabella, I saw you sneak off and I wonder why, are you okay? And I don't know why I care, since I should dislike you after all those rumors and things you've done and said to me, but I'm doing the opposite and wonder if you are feeling alright! And I know you don't want anything to do with me but I'm disrespectful so I don't care!

No no, I have no idea what I'm doing here. I have nothing to say to her, right? She's the one who pushed me away and told me to avoid her, so I won't care the slightest about if she's feeling alright or not, and I doubt she cares about me not caring either. Yeah, that sounds fair.

I lower my fist and exhale loudly, then I turn to walk to my own room. I open my door and look at the big room, smiling slightly. I know I shouldn't get used to this kind of luxury, but I can't help it. It's just so perfect.

Just as I'm about to close the door behind me, I hear a blood-curling scream from the deck. I furrow my brows in confusion. Did I just imagine a scream, or was that for real? No, I couldn't have.

The scream belonged to a female, that's for sure. But what could she have screamed about?

I don't get many seconds to ponder that, since the scream repeats once again, this time in words. "SOMEBODY HELP ME!"

My eyes widen as I realize the woman is in true danger, and I quickly take off rushing up the stairs to the deck. I look around quickly to find that there's no one else but me around. I frown in confusion, I couldn't have imagined that scream for all it was worth, could I?

It's quite strange though, that there is not a single person around. Was Isabella and I the only ones on the entire boat who left a restaurant early? Okay, I bet many people are in their rooms or in some kind of entertainment-room someplace, but shouldn't there be anyone around to, I don't know, enjoy the hot evening-air in the Caribbean?

Wait, what in the world am I thinking? There's a person here somewhere who obviously is in need of help and I'm standing here, wondering why there's no one around? What kind of person am I?

I shout out on the deck-"Is there anybody here?!"

It takes about half a second before somebody screams back at me-"HELP, PLEASE HELP! BY THE RAILING!" I look at the railing confusingly and walk up to it, looking over it. There's nothing there, but I did hear the source of the sound from here. I look to my left, where there's nothing. Then I look to my right, and when I do it, I almost stumble over the railing myself due to the shock of seeing Isabella clinging onto the other side of the railing for life. She must have tripped somehow and now she's 99% too close to a certain death in the mighty waves.

I let out a surprised scream and rush up to her, grabbing her arms. She looks up at her savior with big eyes and gasps from the sight of me. "Phineas! Oh thank God!" Then, her gaze shifts from relief to one of panicked frustration, and she shouts-"Of all the people on this boat, seriously?!" She screams in shock. I don't have much time to be offended for the moment, but I manage to let out some words.

"If you want me to let go so you can await another rescuer, be my guest!"

She rolls her eyes, but the panic doesn't leave them for a second, and she shouts again in desperation-"Please, just help me Phineas!" I've never seen anyone so frightened in my entire life, but then again I've never seen anyone this close to their death either, so I can understand her.

I look at seriously in the eyes. "Okay, hang in there! I'll pull you up!" I shout. I pull her arms up with all the strength I can muster, making her go up so that she can put her feet on the floor, but she's still on the other side of the railing.

She lets out a whimper of pure panic and fear and clings onto my shoulders for dear life, burying her face in my left shoulder. She's shaking uncontrollably and I didn't actually think someone could hold onto a shirt so extremely tight.

"T-thank goodness you came… I-I couldn't get up for a-all it was w-worth… the railing was s-so slippery…" she stutters, her voice breaking in the end of the sentence. I feel a rush of compassion flooding through me- I don't even want to think about the mix of emotions inside of her right now- the sudden shock from falling over the railing, the panic of looking death straight in the eyes, the relief of a rescuer and now, just starting to comprehend what actually just happened. She lets out a shuddery breath and continues talking. "I don't even know what happened! I just stood by the railing, looking out at the ocean. It was so refreshing and soothing, and I closed my eyes for a moment. I-I don't know, I must have leaned forward too much, because suddenly I found myself defeated by gravity, tipping over the railing. How do one even manage to do that?!" she exclaims loudly into my shoulder.

I hold my arms reassuringly around her back, forbidding gravity to fail her again. Then I chuckle quietly and speak up:"Well, the first scene from Titanic has happened. Just wait, a few days from now the ship will be on the bottom of ocean, you'll see." I joke, and she giggles slightly. I feel her tears stain my shoulder, but I can only welcome it right now.

After a few seconds, she carefully lifts her head from my shoulder, slowly looking up at me. Her arms hold a secure grip around my neck and her face is illuminated by the moon and the lights from the boat, defining her face and increasing her features. Her tear-stained face is slightly red and moist, but other than that it's still normal. Her lips are plump and slightly parted from the silence and focus which her eyes also reflect. And her eyes- well they're so full of emotions it's hard to tell where it begins and where it ends. They're wide and glued on my own eyes, piercing my entire being with their enchantment and their invincible beauty. Her hair is messy from the wind, some string of it sticking to her face due to the wind and her crying. It has some more volume than normal, but it's still as shiny as ever. Practically her entire being is a thousand mysterious hues of flawlessness, shock and wonder, and one thing is damn sure.

She's never been more beautiful.

Never breaking eye-contact, I bend down, bringing one hand to the hollows of her knees, slowly and carefully picking her up bridal style. She doesn't break eye contact for one second either and it seems like she's trusting me completely as I carry her over the railing and onto the safety again.

I carefully set her down on the floor, but I remain my hand on her back as I return up to a normal standing-position, placing my other hand around her ear. She parts her lips ever so slightly, letting out a quiet, shuddery breath as my hand makes contact with her skin.

We stand like that for some minutes, loosing one another in each other's eyes. It's like we entered a different world where we are the only people existing. There's not a single flaw or a sound in this world, but it's surrounded by colors and sensations I never want to feel the end of. But then, Isabella brings us back to reality.

"I shouldn't enjoy this." She barely whispers, her lips almost not even moving from her pronunciation. Her eyes are moist from tears and confusion, indicating that her entire inner being is a spinning mess. But the mess on the inside makes her still on the outside, and she doesn't move anything.

I mimic her actions, also standing still. I can however practically feel my eyes burn her with intensity and devotion. "Do you?" I murmur.

She closes her eyes as pain and confusion descends upon her face and she drops her head, leaning into my chest.

I put my arms around her upper back, holding her to my body tightly. She needs this now, I know she does. She is in desperate need of it. But what this 'it' is, I have no idea.

And I do know she needs it, but I have no idea what she wants. That consideration is almost as mysterious to me as the next one is:

What kind of 'it' do I need? And in my case, is needing the same as wanting?

Wow, this chapter turned out pretty long. But you know what's even longer? My time-period of writing it. And once again, I apologize a thousand times. And for those of you who wants to know, no. I have not given up on My Name Is Isabella- Or Should I Say Isaac Garcia Shapiro. I just have imagination-issues with that one, but I promise, I am working on that too! But as I said before, this story is kind of my prio 1 right now. I hope all of you wonderful souls understand and that you can be happy for the current moment- I have finally posted a new chapter!