so,” she defended. “Well, at least, when they do a write-up of the world’s youngest billionaires, I do.”
I rolled my eyes.
“What are you going to wear?” she asked.
I sighed, looking over at the only pair of jeans I had and my yellow tank top, which was the nicest of the two I’d brought with me. “Nothing you’d be proud of. I wish you were here to do my hair and makeup.”
“Looks like there’s plenty of stuff behind you for you to do it yourself.”
“It’s not mine,” I said. “I’m in the stewardesses’ bathroom.”
“Steal a little mascara, they won’t know.”
I laughed. “I’ll be fine. It’s just dinner and then I’ll say my goodbyes to Joel and be on my way to the hostel I’m staying in for the next few nights.”
Juniper frowned at that. “Be careful, okay? Send me a message as soon as you get settled so I know you’re alive.”
“I will.”
“And don’t tie your hair up. Just let it air dry, you always get such beautiful, natural waves that way.”
I smiled. “Love you, Juni.”
“Love you more.”
We ended the call and I noted that when I messaged her later, I’d ask how summer training was going. My sister was the hottest new volleyball player at the University of Colorado. She’d been a star player ever since I could remember, actually, but she was at the university-level now, and one step closer to her ultimate dream of playing professionally.
I had no doubt that she’d do it.
The mirror wasn’t as foggy as I looked over my reflection one last time, tucking my hair behind one ear and letting it fall over the other. The still-wet ends of it fell just below my bra line, and I liked that it hid my face a little bit. The yellow tank top showed off the tan I’d picked up during our Barcelona adventures, and I was thankful I at least had the good sense to bring one pair of jeans to pair it with. The order was to be barefoot while on the boat unless you were wearing the approved boat shoes given to the crew — something about keeping the teak nice — so at least I didn’t have to show up in my dirty old sneakers.
With one final breath, I shook off the exhaustion as best I could, knowing I would need every ounce of energy I had left to get through this dinner.
Just a while longer, and I’ll be alone.
I was counting down the minutes.
Dinner was many things — most of all loud.
One of the benefits of dating Joel, an extrovert who could have a riveting conversation with a brick wall, was that when we attended big group events like this, he took over. He was always the animated one, telling stories, making jokes, while I could sit beside him and smile and laugh at the appropriate times and chime in now and then until the whole ordeal was over. I much preferred hanging out in groups of four or less. After that, it all became too… much.
It was the same tonight, Joel holding the table captive with his charm, but I learned quickly that he wasn’t the only center of attention at this table. It seemed nearly every member of the crew had an outgoing personality, save for Wayland and the engineers, who were all at the far end of the table having a quiet conversation amongst themselves. But the head chef, Claude, and his partner in crime, Adeline, were loud and vivacious. Their stories were as rich as the food they’d prepared for us.
It was interesting, the way it all worked. Usually, the crew would be behind the scenes, making and serving dinner and then disappearing below deck to have their own meals. But tonight, Mr. Whitman had them all seated together as equals. I found it admirable that he would do that for his crew.
Still, the dinner had to be made and served, so the crew ate and drank and enjoyed dinner as much as they were up and down from the table, taking care of the next course or, in the stews’ cases, picking up plates and serving the next.
Mr. Whitman sat at the head of the table, directly to my right, with only Joel sitting between us. He was as charming as his crew, filling the hours of dinner with stories from his own travels and experiences on boats. He took a small amount of time to go over what he expected from his crew on this