His face goes tentative.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey,” he says back.
It’s a little stilted, but he doesn’t pull away.
“Can we talk later?” I ask.
“Sure,” he says. “After I bring down the house.”
“Uh, so, about that. I’m afraid you stole my karaoke song.”
“Pardon?” he asks.
“‘Wuthering Heights’ is my signature number. I’m going to need to politely ask for it back.”
His face pulls into the wry smile I love. “No can do. It’s alsomysignature number.”
“No way. Men cannot hit those notes.”
“Felix can,” Pear says. “It’s uncanny.”
I cross my arms. “Not fair. I slay with that song. And I’m the Brontë superfan.”
He tsks at me. “You forget the Brontës turned me into the nascent scholar of English literature I am today.”
“You well-readdevil.”
“I’ll tell you what,” he says, “because I’m a compassionate soul, I’ll allowyou to do a duet with me.” He pauses and looks at me severely. “If you promise you can hit the notes, that is.”
“Oh, I can demolish the notes.”
He offers me his hand. “We have an agreement, Miss Lanover.”
I squeeze it.
And I don’t care about the song. All I care about is the fact that he squeezes back.
Felix
I’m grateful to the gods of amateur singing for forcing me to see Hope.
I’ve been avoiding her all day and feeling cowardly about it. But I’m uncomfortable with how much seeing her with her ex affected me. Whether his presence here was an omission or a coincidence, I shouldn’t be this thrown by it. This is supposed to be a fling. It’s a bad sign that I’m jealous.
I just hope I’m not supposed to be.
Even entertaining the idea that Hope would use me to inspire envy in her ex makes me feel like shit. But I can’t help it. The bleakest part of my mind spins a scenario where she started flirting with me as soon as she found out Gabe was on the ship.
But everything between us has happened organically, hasn’t it? ReadingMiddlemarch? Showing up for the same dance class? Throwing crab in my hair on day one?
If she had meant to entangle me in some sort of love triangle, surely she would have simply introduced herself, without getting the raw bar involved.
I’m being paranoid. I need to slow down.
This is a cruise hookup after all. Not a love story.
Still, it’s reassuring that Gabe’s not here with her. And karaoke seems likea light, reasonable way to resume communication. We can hash it out afterwards.
