walked to her bunk instead. She sat down hard. Right here is what made Jillian so annoying—she cut to the chase and made you own up to yourself, like it or not.
Megan took a deep breath and stared at Jillian.
“All right, I can’t like him,” she said. “It’s just not right to like someone on a cruise ship. In a show. That’s a blond, 6’ 2” dancer, who’s also a former basketball star. It’s so utterly cliché, it’s disgusting. This is a fairy-tale setting, the most unreal setting you can get, except for maybe being stranded on a tropical island, and I don’t rule that out at this point.”
“So”—Jillian sat down across from her on the opposite bunk, brush in hand—“you won’t allow yourself to like him because it’s too fairy-tale good?”
“No, because it’s just too fairy-tale, period. You know how these performer types can be, excepting Derek of course. I mean, he works weird hours and it’s not even a real job. And when he gets back to the mainland the family business is waiting for him but he doesn’t want it, but can’t commit to something else. At twenty-seven ! Talk about an unsafe bet. The only thing that’s remotely appealing about him is the way he looks like he’s figuring out the tip on a receipt all the time. And the way he helps—okay, I’ll give you that, always carrying things for Marvy and helping the girls with the costume tubs. Bringing Clint some orange juice for his hypoglycemia. And yes, he’s like an Adonis but in a next-door-guy way, but like that matters to me. Sure he’s easy to talk to when there’s not this—this tension between us, which, okay, I admit is mostly because of me. But there’s still something that’s not quite right about him, which I can’t figure out. And I get that he’s fun to be with, when he’s not got that annoying smirk on his face, which actually reminds me of Sam. But other than that, I ask you, rationally, what’s there to really fall for here?”
Jillian stared at Megan for a moment then shook her head. “Wow. You’ve got it bad.” With a consoling look she patted Megan’s knee. “The good news is that I’m here and you will not get away with hiding from Abs Man, nor ruining your chance for something good. Big Sister Jillian’s got your back.”
“Oh, no you don’t. Remember your promise,” said Megan, starting to worry. She’d just opened up with her unspoken feelings and now they would be used against her?
Jillian walked to the door, dropping her brush on the vanity counter.
“Campaign promises, my Megs. Oh, and I have a message for you from a certain someone.” She stood with a sly smile.
Megan was about to reply when she realized what Jillian had said. She dabbed her forehead with the towel feigning boredom, though her insides felt a small swirl.
“Someone asked specifically to have breakfast with you.”
“I’m not hungry.” This was suddenly true.
She paused dramatically. “It was Brittany Shay Weller—don’t forget the Shay—and she personally requested you meet her at the Satrboard Dining Room. At nine thirty.” She added a Princess Wave.
“You are evil,” said Megan, as Jillian closed the door behind her.
What in the world would Brittany want to talk to her about?
***
Thirty minutes later Megan entered the almost empty Starboard Dining Room. She felt slightly nauseous, praying in conversation she wouldn’t betray any supposed interest in Bryant, while at the same time not seeming unnaturally uninterested. Maybe Brittany wanted to tell her mitts off, he was still hers. Or maybe that she stunk doing salsa. Or tips on how to do a Princess Wave.
Brittany caught Megan’s eye and motioned her over.
“You got my message, terrific. I hope this is okay for you?” She smiled openly, completely disarming. In an odd flash, Megan remembered visiting a tiger exhibit in the zoo as a child. That part had been the most intriguing to her. Beautiful, tropical surroundings. Soft, thick
Megan took a deep breath and stared at Jillian.
“All right, I can’t like him,” she said. “It’s just not right to like someone on a cruise ship. In a show. That’s a blond, 6’ 2” dancer, who’s also a former basketball star. It’s so utterly cliché, it’s disgusting. This is a fairy-tale setting, the most unreal setting you can get, except for maybe being stranded on a tropical island, and I don’t rule that out at this point.”
“So”—Jillian sat down across from her on the opposite bunk, brush in hand—“you won’t allow yourself to like him because it’s too fairy-tale good?”
“No, because it’s just too fairy-tale, period. You know how these performer types can be, excepting Derek of course. I mean, he works weird hours and it’s not even a real job. And when he gets back to the mainland the family business is waiting for him but he doesn’t want it, but can’t commit to something else. At twenty-seven ! Talk about an unsafe bet. The only thing that’s remotely appealing about him is the way he looks like he’s figuring out the tip on a receipt all the time. And the way he helps—okay, I’ll give you that, always carrying things for Marvy and helping the girls with the costume tubs. Bringing Clint some orange juice for his hypoglycemia. And yes, he’s like an Adonis but in a next-door-guy way, but like that matters to me. Sure he’s easy to talk to when there’s not this—this tension between us, which, okay, I admit is mostly because of me. But there’s still something that’s not quite right about him, which I can’t figure out. And I get that he’s fun to be with, when he’s not got that annoying smirk on his face, which actually reminds me of Sam. But other than that, I ask you, rationally, what’s there to really fall for here?”
Jillian stared at Megan for a moment then shook her head. “Wow. You’ve got it bad.” With a consoling look she patted Megan’s knee. “The good news is that I’m here and you will not get away with hiding from Abs Man, nor ruining your chance for something good. Big Sister Jillian’s got your back.”
“Oh, no you don’t. Remember your promise,” said Megan, starting to worry. She’d just opened up with her unspoken feelings and now they would be used against her?
Jillian walked to the door, dropping her brush on the vanity counter.
“Campaign promises, my Megs. Oh, and I have a message for you from a certain someone.” She stood with a sly smile.
Megan was about to reply when she realized what Jillian had said. She dabbed her forehead with the towel feigning boredom, though her insides felt a small swirl.
“Someone asked specifically to have breakfast with you.”
“I’m not hungry.” This was suddenly true.
She paused dramatically. “It was Brittany Shay Weller—don’t forget the Shay—and she personally requested you meet her at the Satrboard Dining Room. At nine thirty.” She added a Princess Wave.
“You are evil,” said Megan, as Jillian closed the door behind her.
What in the world would Brittany want to talk to her about?
***
Thirty minutes later Megan entered the almost empty Starboard Dining Room. She felt slightly nauseous, praying in conversation she wouldn’t betray any supposed interest in Bryant, while at the same time not seeming unnaturally uninterested. Maybe Brittany wanted to tell her mitts off, he was still hers. Or maybe that she stunk doing salsa. Or tips on how to do a Princess Wave.
Brittany caught Megan’s eye and motioned her over.
“You got my message, terrific. I hope this is okay for you?” She smiled openly, completely disarming. In an odd flash, Megan remembered visiting a tiger exhibit in the zoo as a child. That part had been the most intriguing to her. Beautiful, tropical surroundings. Soft, thick
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