And then he leans over and kisses me. Softly. A bit more lingeringly than he did in the hallway.
I melt against him, and there’s that feeling again:it’s okay.
Except now there’s more to it.This is lovely. You’re lovely.
I put my fingers in Felix’s hair, which is soft and tousled and so nice to touch, and draw him closer to me.
“I like you,” I say, when our lips part.
“Good,” he says. “Because I like you too.”
His eyes go down to my lips, and he’s going to kiss me again, and then—
“Oh fuck,” I say, lurching away. “I’m going to throw up.”
Felix
Hope jumps off the couch, her hand over her mouth, and staggers to the loo. It takes me a few seconds to react, and then I run after her. She slams the door shut, and moments later I hear retching noises.
I don’t know what to do.
I want to help her, but how? Going in to hold back her hair seems like a disgusting cliché, rather than something someone would want you to do in real life. If I were the one vomiting, I emphatically would not want her to watch.
It sounds bloody awful.
Poor girl.
After a few minutes the noises stop. I knock tentatively on the door.
“Hope?”
“Don’t come in,” she cries.
“Can I do anything for you?”
“I’m okay.”
But she’s not; the gagging resumes immediately.
I feel responsible. Perhaps if I hadn’t invited her here, she would have gone to sleep, and the nausea wouldn’t have claimed her. And I’m worried. Tomorrowis a day at sea, and who knows how long the swells will last. She could be sick for ages. I get a selfish twinge of disappointment. I was hoping to spend time with her tomorrow.
Not to mention tonight.
Feeling helpless, I pour her a glass of water and stand sentry outside the door. The retching stops again, and then I hear the tap running. Hope pokes her head outside. Her lipstick is smeared. She looks absolutely miserable.
“Here, love,” I say, offering her the water.
“Not sure I can keep it down.”
“Just try. You need to stay hydrated.”
She accepts it and takes a tiny sip, then swallows very cautiously.
“Do you think I could borrow a robe?” she asks. “I, um, made a mess of myself. If you don’t mind, I’m going to just take a quick shower so I don’t have to subject anyone in the hallway to… well.”
“Of course,” I say, tremendously relieved that I can dosomething. I go to the closet and grab a plush whiteRomance of the Sea–branded bathrobe and bring it to her.
She takes it and closes the door, and I pace around googling seasickness remedies. Unfortunately, most of them have to be takenbeforethe nausea sets in. But several articles suggest that eating ginger and lying down help. I go to the phone, dial the number for Crisanto, and ask for ginger ale.
