much!"
We can hear him cackling at his own joke as he saunters down the hallway. Andrew chuckles at him before plopping down on the floor right beside me. "It is you." His head is turned so that his ginormous sapphire eyes are gazing into mine.
My body is acutely aware of each place where our bodies are grazing each other––my shoulder, hip, thigh and the side of my foot are all zinging with electrified energy at his touch––my painful sunburn completely forgotten. Syd and I had been sitting just as close together, but it was nothing like this life-affirming feeling of being next to Andrew again. I struggle to stay completely present in the moment, savoring the feeling because I know that I will want to relive this scene with him over and over again.
It is as if no time has passed. Just seeing him has transported me back to high school and the intense feelings I have always had for him are front and center once more. Something about this man sets my body alive. I can feel my breath quickening, my pulse racing, and my nerve endings smoldering from his close proximity. I know that my body's visceral chemical reaction to him doesn't make any sense. After all, he could be a serial killer for all I know, but my physiological response to him is undeniable and uncontrollable––not that I would want to tame it, even if I could.
Even as many times as I've relived the precious few minutes I spent in his arms, my memories pale in comparison to actually being near him. The rush of his presence is an incomparable, exhilarating high that I have never experienced elsewhere. I drink it in like my parched, sunburnt skin absorbs refreshing aloe vera gel.
Realizing that my silence has dragged into the zone of what should feel awkward, I finally respond to his comment. "It's me," I affirm, smiling at him before adding, "and you ."
"I've thought about you so many times over the years," Andrew remarks.
His revelation would have floored me had I not already been sitting on the floor. If he had any idea of the sheer number of times I have thought of him and our brief but marvelous time together, he would probably be somewhat frightened. Deciding it to be in my own best interest to play down my obsession with him, I tell him, "I have fond memories of you too."
There, that was nice, but non-committal. I silently commend myself for playing it somewhat cool when all I really want to do is proclaim my nonsensical intense feelings for this man, whom I barely know.
"Remember my Senior Prom night when we danced together?" he asks me, obviously having no idea how obsessed I was–– okay, am ––with him. At my nod, he continues, "What was the song they played?"
"It was 'In Your Eyes,' I think." I'm proud of myself for adding on the 'I think.' I certainly don't want to come off like a crazy person who relives that moment in time over and over every time that song comes on––even when I purposely play it on my phone.
"Yeah," Andrew nods, "I love that song."
"Me too," I confirm, deciding it's safe to admit that much to him.
"We should go down to one of the dance clubs to request they play it, so we can dance to it and relive our glory days!"
Andrew seems excited about his idea, but I'm sure he can't possibly feel one thousandth as thrilled as I do at his suggestion––especially that he referred to it as 'our glory days.' I'm sure he wasn't referring to our dance specifically with that saying, but it felt wonderful to hear him say it, nonetheless.
"Let's go!" I let some enthusiasm show in my voice, but not to the degree that I feel it.
Proving that he's still a gentleman, Andrew helps me up off the floor and hooks his elbow with mine. It is as if I am walking on air as he escorts me to one of the ship's nightclubs.
Chapter 22
It takes a bit for my eyes to adjust to the dark room. The pounding music makes the parquet dance floor seem to pulse and the swirling lights from the disco ball make the sequins on several ladies'
We can hear him cackling at his own joke as he saunters down the hallway. Andrew chuckles at him before plopping down on the floor right beside me. "It is you." His head is turned so that his ginormous sapphire eyes are gazing into mine.
My body is acutely aware of each place where our bodies are grazing each other––my shoulder, hip, thigh and the side of my foot are all zinging with electrified energy at his touch––my painful sunburn completely forgotten. Syd and I had been sitting just as close together, but it was nothing like this life-affirming feeling of being next to Andrew again. I struggle to stay completely present in the moment, savoring the feeling because I know that I will want to relive this scene with him over and over again.
It is as if no time has passed. Just seeing him has transported me back to high school and the intense feelings I have always had for him are front and center once more. Something about this man sets my body alive. I can feel my breath quickening, my pulse racing, and my nerve endings smoldering from his close proximity. I know that my body's visceral chemical reaction to him doesn't make any sense. After all, he could be a serial killer for all I know, but my physiological response to him is undeniable and uncontrollable––not that I would want to tame it, even if I could.
Even as many times as I've relived the precious few minutes I spent in his arms, my memories pale in comparison to actually being near him. The rush of his presence is an incomparable, exhilarating high that I have never experienced elsewhere. I drink it in like my parched, sunburnt skin absorbs refreshing aloe vera gel.
Realizing that my silence has dragged into the zone of what should feel awkward, I finally respond to his comment. "It's me," I affirm, smiling at him before adding, "and you ."
"I've thought about you so many times over the years," Andrew remarks.
His revelation would have floored me had I not already been sitting on the floor. If he had any idea of the sheer number of times I have thought of him and our brief but marvelous time together, he would probably be somewhat frightened. Deciding it to be in my own best interest to play down my obsession with him, I tell him, "I have fond memories of you too."
There, that was nice, but non-committal. I silently commend myself for playing it somewhat cool when all I really want to do is proclaim my nonsensical intense feelings for this man, whom I barely know.
"Remember my Senior Prom night when we danced together?" he asks me, obviously having no idea how obsessed I was–– okay, am ––with him. At my nod, he continues, "What was the song they played?"
"It was 'In Your Eyes,' I think." I'm proud of myself for adding on the 'I think.' I certainly don't want to come off like a crazy person who relives that moment in time over and over every time that song comes on––even when I purposely play it on my phone.
"Yeah," Andrew nods, "I love that song."
"Me too," I confirm, deciding it's safe to admit that much to him.
"We should go down to one of the dance clubs to request they play it, so we can dance to it and relive our glory days!"
Andrew seems excited about his idea, but I'm sure he can't possibly feel one thousandth as thrilled as I do at his suggestion––especially that he referred to it as 'our glory days.' I'm sure he wasn't referring to our dance specifically with that saying, but it felt wonderful to hear him say it, nonetheless.
"Let's go!" I let some enthusiasm show in my voice, but not to the degree that I feel it.
Proving that he's still a gentleman, Andrew helps me up off the floor and hooks his elbow with mine. It is as if I am walking on air as he escorts me to one of the ship's nightclubs.
Chapter 22
It takes a bit for my eyes to adjust to the dark room. The pounding music makes the parquet dance floor seem to pulse and the swirling lights from the disco ball make the sequins on several ladies'
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