Our Stars Scattered Like Dust (4/11)
Title: Our Stars Scattered Like Dust (4/11)
Authors: icedteainthebag and wishflsinfl
Characters/pairings: Adama/Roslin, Kara/Lee, Gaius/Caprica, other assorted affairs, ensemble cast
Rating: MA (graphic sex)
Warnings: AU, Character death
Spoilers: through Daybreak
Summary: As the new bartender on the cruise ship Galactica Bill Adama is hoping for an uneventful first voyage, but his life is irrevocably changed when he meets cruise director Laura Roslin.
A/N: As AU as AU can get. Thank you to fragrantwoods and somadanne for their invaluable beta assistance. Also thanks to the folks at bsg_checkin for cheerleading.
Chapters: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven
* DAY THREE: West of Baja California
Laura woke up to the sun drifting in through her window. Early morning and the third day at sea. This was when things started to feel really dull, when people stopped showing up for activities as they got used to the ship and had met people to socialize with. The only people left were usually socially awkward or serial frakkers looking for a new plaything for their day.
Her help was less needed from the third day on, yet every day she had to keep showing up, all rah-frakking-rah, from breakfast till dinner.
She fumbled, eyes closed, for her flask on the tiny bookshelf at the head of her bed. She always felt a rush when the cool metal met her fingertips and this morning was no different, especially given the bit of soreness she was feeling in her limbs and other more sensitive areas.
Yeah, she'd gotten into it last night. He'd gotten into her. Whatever the hell happened, this morning brought the predictable uncertainty of sexual aftermath. What did you say to a guy you barely knew who you let ass frak you the night before? Over his bar, no less?
She guessed it would be best to just conduct herself professionally, business as usual.
Except it had been so hot that she wished now that she'd invited him into her bed afterward, even if it was only to sleep beside him. The strength of her desire to have him around was surprising. There was something about this man beyond physical attraction, beyond their witty banter and their obvious sexual chemistry.
Or maybe it was just the quiet desperation she was feeling as each day at sea brought the reality of her retirement one day closer. Her therapist-frakker that he was-would have called her extreme risk-taking a way of sublimating her fear of retirement.
"It is way too early for this shit," she whispered to herself, nursing her flask again. The rich and stinging taste of this liquor of choice reminded her of the only constant in her life, the one that had always been preferable to anything or anybody else.
Reminding herself that this was her last tour at sea, she decided to play it cool with Adama the best she could. If he wanted to frak, they'd frak, but that's all it would be. Five more nights of indulgence in his capable hands and she wouldn't have to think about him again. He'd be Bartender Bill, off sailing the seas, and she'd be Laura Roslin, retired former cruise director.
Setting that depressing thought aside, she decided to leave him an invitation, an offer she knew he wouldn't refuse. Five nights left and she wasn't going to waste a single one.
For now, it was up and at 'em for speed dating for dummies. Gods help them all.
*
In her busy day, Laura found a brief moment at her desk to pull out her special stationery that she rarely used. It was something her mother had given her many years ago, a delicate floral paper from a trip overseas, and there were less than a dozen sheets left of it.
She began writing Bill an invitation to join her that night. After writing his name, she hesitated. She wasn't sure whether to be flirty or play it cool. She could mention the hard ass frakking he'd given her-
"Hey, Laura," Tory said as she walked in and slammed a pile of programs down on Laura's desk.
"Oh Gods!" Laura shoved her arm across her nearly blank note and took a deep breath. "Oh, hi."
"Hello." Tory studied her, her head cocked. "You all right?"
"Totally. Yes."
Laura stared at Tory, who stared back at her. "Okay, Tory, what do you need?"
"Direction, maybe?"
Oh, sweet mothers of Kobol. "Go down to the pool and make sure Gaius isn't hitting on any women because he is not allowed to do that on company time."
"And … I'm to stop him if he is?"
"Yes. Using any means necessary." Laura sharpened her stare into a glare. "Any. Means."
"All right." Tory shot her one last look of concern. Laura was convinced Tory was wondering if she was off her meds. Then Tory left, leaving her alone to her note writing.
"Okay, no ass frakking," she said under her breath, writing a hasty note and sealing it in an envelope before anybody else could interrupt. Then she sealed it with the ship's official wax seal and kissed it. She wasn't sure why she was going to such lengths for great presentation, but maybe Bill was the kind of man who appreciated that kind of thing.
She smiled as she strolled down to the elevator, taking it to his floor and slipping it into the mailbox on his door. She smiled the entire way back up. She wasn't used to smiling so frakking much.
It was a crazy thing.
*
The third night at the bar was particularly strenuous for Bill. He was exhausted from the previous evening-it felt like every joint he had was aching, his pain far surpassing the amusement of how he'd achieved it. His chest hurt to breathe, his limbs hurt to move.
No painkillers seemed to help, not even the strong ones. His head pounded and he felt more desperate for a drink than he had in a while, making him even crankier when he knew he couldn't have one. He had even gone back for a nap between shifts and found a note from Laura. It was the nicest looking note he had ever received, delicate paper and a wax seal on the envelope. It invited him to the pool that night after his shift, leaving everything else to his imagination.
Still didn't help. And that was a frakking shame.
The kids, as he'd started calling them, were in a rare mood tonight, sucking down liquor like it was their last night at sea. There was happy yelling, angry yelling, a few near fist fights over none other than Kara, who didn't seem to mind instigating a conflict and ate up the results. He admired her spunk, wishing it could rub off on him somehow. Somebody threw a chair across the room and it crashed against the wall. He didn't lift a finger, just turned his back and rubbed a fingerprint smudge off a highball glass.
Finally, they left.
His shift ended and left him feeling old. Terribly, terribly old.
He went back to his room.
*
Swimming at sea, under the stars, was something Laura never tired of in her years of cruising. They kept the pools warm and full of seawater and it was the perfect salve for sore muscles and frayed nerves after a long day of dealing with passengers. And thinking about Bill.
Rarely had she longed for her twenty-year-old body which she could slip into a bikini without worrying about potential stomach rollover. Those days were long gone but she assumed that Bill would appreciate her just as much in her black one-piece suit, sleek and tight all over, as he would in something skimpy enough to be shed in a quick second.
She smiled at the idea, occupying her mind with sweet thoughts of workarounds. Anticipation settled into concern that perhaps she'd overestimated the passion behind their affair so far.
It was almost eleven-thirty and he still hadn't shown. She knew his shift ended at eleven. She was about to leave when she heard the door to the pool deck slam shut. Squinting, she made out his form silhouetted against the interior hallway lights.
"Making a lady wait," she said. "Good thing you make a good first impression."
"Thanks for waiting," was his ineffectual response. She hoped the reason for his delay wasn't a bad one.
"I wasn't sure you were going to come tonight."
He pulled a lounge chair to the edge of the pool and sat on the side of it, elbows on his knees. "You don't know me very well."
She treaded water, moving closer to him. "No, I don't."
As she got closer she saw that he looked tired-more than tired. "Long day?"
"I'm sure you've had those before."
She folded her arms on the edge of the pool, looking up at him. "Bill, you look exhausted."
"I am. It's fine."
He obviously wasn't into conversation tonight. Instead they sat in front of each other speechless like awkward teenagers on a first date. She squeezed her upper arms together, hoping to inspire him to action with a bit more cleavage, but he seemed off in his own world, his face turned so she could only see his shadowed profile. She didn't feel uncomfortable with him like this-she instead felt like she needed some explanation for his behavior. It was only twenty-four hours ago that he'd had her over the bar, losing her mind.
Now she faltered at what to say. All day she'd rehearsed line after line of witty banter in her head, but he didn't even seem willing to get in the pool.
"What's wrong?"
He chuckled and then sighed, turning to face her. "I'm not sure how to answer that."
Smiling, she reached over to tap on the top of his sandaled foot. "You could start by telling me the first thing that crossed your mind when I asked."
Bill shook his head and left a long silence in its wake. "Why did you invite me here tonight?"
"For company. Why did you come?"
"The same."
She stroked his ankle, then let her fingers drift up his calf. "So are you coming in?"
He moved his foot away and she frowned. "I'm not much of a good time tonight," he said.
"I don't mind. Just come in. It's warm. Might cure what ails you."
She saw his eyes narrow but he quickly corrected it. Standing up, he took off his shirt. She watched him, transfixed and wishing they were in full light. It was almost embarrassing that they'd frakked but she'd never seen him shirtless. She could barely see the outlined shadow of muscles. He looked thinner than she'd expected from the strength she'd experienced the night before.
Nudging off his sandals, he dipped a toe in the water a few feet down from where she hung onto the edge. Then he slipped into the water, silent and barely disturbing the still surface. She turned to him but he went under, under for a very long time. Then he surfaced with a gasp.
"Salt water," he grunted, rubbing his eyes.
"Oh dear," she said. "Is this your first cruise?"
He sniffled a bit and she moved closer to him, right next to him. "Yeah." His response was more of a grunt.
She hesitated, then pushed a few strands of hair back from his forehead, then let her fingers linger behind his ear. "I'm sorry."
"Just wasn't what I expected."
Something about his voice-maybe being in close proximity to him-was winding her up again, her breath caught in her throat. "Seems to be the theme of this voyage."
This caught his attention and he looked into her eyes; his expression wasn't the one she expected, not what she was used to. There was a haunted sadness there.
"Bill, I don't know what-"
He leaned in and kissed her, rocking her unsteady in the water. She gripped the side of the pool, her other hand splayed across the back of his head, pulling him closer. He moved in front of her, pressing her back into the wall, his kiss unrelenting.
It was what she'd been hoping for, but there was something wrong about it. Not that it was enough for her to stop-it was more of an unsettled feeling, churning deeply and mixing with arousal. A feeling that he needed this more than wanted it.
He moved his mouth to her neck and tightened his body against hers. She expected to feel the hard outline of his cock against her stomach but didn't. Pulling him closer with a tug of her leg around his calf, she writhed her lower body against his, indulging in the thrill of his deep moan against her skin.
Impatiently, he shoved his arm down between them, separating her body from his as he worked his hand between her legs. It was slow agony and, lacking a buzz, she felt herself straining to enjoy it as much as she normally did.
There was a muted throb building where he was massaging her, his palm pressing and releasing the heat between her thighs. It was nothing like the night before, and apparently, he wasn't feeling it either. She whimpered, frustrated, and slid her hand down over his bare chest to squeeze the soft bulge in front of his shorts.
"What's going on, Bill?" she asked, hoping she didn't sound cross.
He looked up from kissing her chest. "Tired. Maybe this was a bad idea."
"No." She kissed his upper lip. "Not a bad idea. Just an idea not well executed."
He was quiet for a moment. "You don't taste like booze."
The statement shocked her even though, of course, it was true. "Does this surprise you?"
"No … I mean, yes. It's different. And I feel badly that you sobered up for this-"
"Sobered up?"
"And I couldn't deliver. I'm sorry. I'm saying all the wrong things." He moved away, landing with his back against the pool wall with what appeared to be resounding defeat. Laura took a deep breath, trying to contain her anger.
"Maybe it was a bad idea." She had to say it. She knew she shouldn't, but she couldn't stop herself from just one barb, even if it was a lie.
His heavy sigh broke whatever mood was left. "I was in a lot of pain today. I took some drugs to stop it, and it's obviously … stopped other things."
"Why were you in pain?"
It was way too quiet and she was tired of his silence. "I understand your need for privacy but shutting me down every time I ask a question-every time I'm concerned about you-that's not working for me."
"You don't need to be concerned about me." He leaned his head back, his arms spread across the edge of the pool. "That wasn't my intention."
"I know. It wasn't mine either." More anger and now she yearned for her flask which was safely and inconveniently stored back in her room-a very rare occurrence. "Trust me. I wasn't looking for this."
"You were just looking for sex."
"Well, weren't you?"
"Yeah, I was."
Laura turned around and pulled herself out of the pool. "I need to cool off and think about things. I need to think about what this all means." She walked over to her chair and grabbed her towel, wrapping it around her.
"It can't mean anything."
She looked back at him. The way the words caused a twist in her stomach was evidence that it already meant too much.
"For your first cruise, you sure have the whole 'no attachments' thing down."
"Wait." Like she wasn't already waiting, just to see if he would do the dramatic thing, have his turnaround, save the day, like in some frakked up romance novel. She stood, cold in the chill of the night air, as he made his way to the stairs at the shallow end of the pool and trudged up, using the bar for support. Then he walked over to his lounge chair and toweled off. How she was patient enough for him to perform these theatrics she didn't know.
"My mother always told me never to go to bed angry," he said.
He didn't approach her, though he was just a few feet away. He had to know how lame he sounded. It was not an apology or a concession. "Did your mother also tell you not to fight with girls?"
"Yeah. She did." He ran a hand through his hair as he slipped his feet into his sandals. "Laura, I don't have the energy for this. I don't know where we're going here, but we should sleep on it."
"I need time to think, too." There were a lot of other things she wouldn't say right now. He might not want to hear them-the good and the bad.
Bill walked over to her and kissed her forehead, then continued past her, disappearing through the same door he'd entered not even thirty minutes earlier.
Authors: icedteainthebag and wishflsinfl
Characters/pairings: Adama/Roslin, Kara/Lee, Gaius/Caprica, other assorted affairs, ensemble cast
Rating: MA (graphic sex)
Warnings: AU, Character death
Spoilers: through Daybreak
Summary: As the new bartender on the cruise ship Galactica Bill Adama is hoping for an uneventful first voyage, but his life is irrevocably changed when he meets cruise director Laura Roslin.
A/N: As AU as AU can get. Thank you to fragrantwoods and somadanne for their invaluable beta assistance. Also thanks to the folks at bsg_checkin for cheerleading.
Chapters: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven
* DAY THREE: West of Baja California
Laura woke up to the sun drifting in through her window. Early morning and the third day at sea. This was when things started to feel really dull, when people stopped showing up for activities as they got used to the ship and had met people to socialize with. The only people left were usually socially awkward or serial frakkers looking for a new plaything for their day.
Her help was less needed from the third day on, yet every day she had to keep showing up, all rah-frakking-rah, from breakfast till dinner.
She fumbled, eyes closed, for her flask on the tiny bookshelf at the head of her bed. She always felt a rush when the cool metal met her fingertips and this morning was no different, especially given the bit of soreness she was feeling in her limbs and other more sensitive areas.
Yeah, she'd gotten into it last night. He'd gotten into her. Whatever the hell happened, this morning brought the predictable uncertainty of sexual aftermath. What did you say to a guy you barely knew who you let ass frak you the night before? Over his bar, no less?
She guessed it would be best to just conduct herself professionally, business as usual.
Except it had been so hot that she wished now that she'd invited him into her bed afterward, even if it was only to sleep beside him. The strength of her desire to have him around was surprising. There was something about this man beyond physical attraction, beyond their witty banter and their obvious sexual chemistry.
Or maybe it was just the quiet desperation she was feeling as each day at sea brought the reality of her retirement one day closer. Her therapist-frakker that he was-would have called her extreme risk-taking a way of sublimating her fear of retirement.
"It is way too early for this shit," she whispered to herself, nursing her flask again. The rich and stinging taste of this liquor of choice reminded her of the only constant in her life, the one that had always been preferable to anything or anybody else.
Reminding herself that this was her last tour at sea, she decided to play it cool with Adama the best she could. If he wanted to frak, they'd frak, but that's all it would be. Five more nights of indulgence in his capable hands and she wouldn't have to think about him again. He'd be Bartender Bill, off sailing the seas, and she'd be Laura Roslin, retired former cruise director.
Setting that depressing thought aside, she decided to leave him an invitation, an offer she knew he wouldn't refuse. Five nights left and she wasn't going to waste a single one.
For now, it was up and at 'em for speed dating for dummies. Gods help them all.
*
In her busy day, Laura found a brief moment at her desk to pull out her special stationery that she rarely used. It was something her mother had given her many years ago, a delicate floral paper from a trip overseas, and there were less than a dozen sheets left of it.
She began writing Bill an invitation to join her that night. After writing his name, she hesitated. She wasn't sure whether to be flirty or play it cool. She could mention the hard ass frakking he'd given her-
"Hey, Laura," Tory said as she walked in and slammed a pile of programs down on Laura's desk.
"Oh Gods!" Laura shoved her arm across her nearly blank note and took a deep breath. "Oh, hi."
"Hello." Tory studied her, her head cocked. "You all right?"
"Totally. Yes."
Laura stared at Tory, who stared back at her. "Okay, Tory, what do you need?"
"Direction, maybe?"
Oh, sweet mothers of Kobol. "Go down to the pool and make sure Gaius isn't hitting on any women because he is not allowed to do that on company time."
"And … I'm to stop him if he is?"
"Yes. Using any means necessary." Laura sharpened her stare into a glare. "Any. Means."
"All right." Tory shot her one last look of concern. Laura was convinced Tory was wondering if she was off her meds. Then Tory left, leaving her alone to her note writing.
"Okay, no ass frakking," she said under her breath, writing a hasty note and sealing it in an envelope before anybody else could interrupt. Then she sealed it with the ship's official wax seal and kissed it. She wasn't sure why she was going to such lengths for great presentation, but maybe Bill was the kind of man who appreciated that kind of thing.
She smiled as she strolled down to the elevator, taking it to his floor and slipping it into the mailbox on his door. She smiled the entire way back up. She wasn't used to smiling so frakking much.
It was a crazy thing.
*
The third night at the bar was particularly strenuous for Bill. He was exhausted from the previous evening-it felt like every joint he had was aching, his pain far surpassing the amusement of how he'd achieved it. His chest hurt to breathe, his limbs hurt to move.
No painkillers seemed to help, not even the strong ones. His head pounded and he felt more desperate for a drink than he had in a while, making him even crankier when he knew he couldn't have one. He had even gone back for a nap between shifts and found a note from Laura. It was the nicest looking note he had ever received, delicate paper and a wax seal on the envelope. It invited him to the pool that night after his shift, leaving everything else to his imagination.
Still didn't help. And that was a frakking shame.
The kids, as he'd started calling them, were in a rare mood tonight, sucking down liquor like it was their last night at sea. There was happy yelling, angry yelling, a few near fist fights over none other than Kara, who didn't seem to mind instigating a conflict and ate up the results. He admired her spunk, wishing it could rub off on him somehow. Somebody threw a chair across the room and it crashed against the wall. He didn't lift a finger, just turned his back and rubbed a fingerprint smudge off a highball glass.
Finally, they left.
His shift ended and left him feeling old. Terribly, terribly old.
He went back to his room.
*
Swimming at sea, under the stars, was something Laura never tired of in her years of cruising. They kept the pools warm and full of seawater and it was the perfect salve for sore muscles and frayed nerves after a long day of dealing with passengers. And thinking about Bill.
Rarely had she longed for her twenty-year-old body which she could slip into a bikini without worrying about potential stomach rollover. Those days were long gone but she assumed that Bill would appreciate her just as much in her black one-piece suit, sleek and tight all over, as he would in something skimpy enough to be shed in a quick second.
She smiled at the idea, occupying her mind with sweet thoughts of workarounds. Anticipation settled into concern that perhaps she'd overestimated the passion behind their affair so far.
It was almost eleven-thirty and he still hadn't shown. She knew his shift ended at eleven. She was about to leave when she heard the door to the pool deck slam shut. Squinting, she made out his form silhouetted against the interior hallway lights.
"Making a lady wait," she said. "Good thing you make a good first impression."
"Thanks for waiting," was his ineffectual response. She hoped the reason for his delay wasn't a bad one.
"I wasn't sure you were going to come tonight."
He pulled a lounge chair to the edge of the pool and sat on the side of it, elbows on his knees. "You don't know me very well."
She treaded water, moving closer to him. "No, I don't."
As she got closer she saw that he looked tired-more than tired. "Long day?"
"I'm sure you've had those before."
She folded her arms on the edge of the pool, looking up at him. "Bill, you look exhausted."
"I am. It's fine."
He obviously wasn't into conversation tonight. Instead they sat in front of each other speechless like awkward teenagers on a first date. She squeezed her upper arms together, hoping to inspire him to action with a bit more cleavage, but he seemed off in his own world, his face turned so she could only see his shadowed profile. She didn't feel uncomfortable with him like this-she instead felt like she needed some explanation for his behavior. It was only twenty-four hours ago that he'd had her over the bar, losing her mind.
Now she faltered at what to say. All day she'd rehearsed line after line of witty banter in her head, but he didn't even seem willing to get in the pool.
"What's wrong?"
He chuckled and then sighed, turning to face her. "I'm not sure how to answer that."
Smiling, she reached over to tap on the top of his sandaled foot. "You could start by telling me the first thing that crossed your mind when I asked."
Bill shook his head and left a long silence in its wake. "Why did you invite me here tonight?"
"For company. Why did you come?"
"The same."
She stroked his ankle, then let her fingers drift up his calf. "So are you coming in?"
He moved his foot away and she frowned. "I'm not much of a good time tonight," he said.
"I don't mind. Just come in. It's warm. Might cure what ails you."
She saw his eyes narrow but he quickly corrected it. Standing up, he took off his shirt. She watched him, transfixed and wishing they were in full light. It was almost embarrassing that they'd frakked but she'd never seen him shirtless. She could barely see the outlined shadow of muscles. He looked thinner than she'd expected from the strength she'd experienced the night before.
Nudging off his sandals, he dipped a toe in the water a few feet down from where she hung onto the edge. Then he slipped into the water, silent and barely disturbing the still surface. She turned to him but he went under, under for a very long time. Then he surfaced with a gasp.
"Salt water," he grunted, rubbing his eyes.
"Oh dear," she said. "Is this your first cruise?"
He sniffled a bit and she moved closer to him, right next to him. "Yeah." His response was more of a grunt.
She hesitated, then pushed a few strands of hair back from his forehead, then let her fingers linger behind his ear. "I'm sorry."
"Just wasn't what I expected."
Something about his voice-maybe being in close proximity to him-was winding her up again, her breath caught in her throat. "Seems to be the theme of this voyage."
This caught his attention and he looked into her eyes; his expression wasn't the one she expected, not what she was used to. There was a haunted sadness there.
"Bill, I don't know what-"
He leaned in and kissed her, rocking her unsteady in the water. She gripped the side of the pool, her other hand splayed across the back of his head, pulling him closer. He moved in front of her, pressing her back into the wall, his kiss unrelenting.
It was what she'd been hoping for, but there was something wrong about it. Not that it was enough for her to stop-it was more of an unsettled feeling, churning deeply and mixing with arousal. A feeling that he needed this more than wanted it.
He moved his mouth to her neck and tightened his body against hers. She expected to feel the hard outline of his cock against her stomach but didn't. Pulling him closer with a tug of her leg around his calf, she writhed her lower body against his, indulging in the thrill of his deep moan against her skin.
Impatiently, he shoved his arm down between them, separating her body from his as he worked his hand between her legs. It was slow agony and, lacking a buzz, she felt herself straining to enjoy it as much as she normally did.
There was a muted throb building where he was massaging her, his palm pressing and releasing the heat between her thighs. It was nothing like the night before, and apparently, he wasn't feeling it either. She whimpered, frustrated, and slid her hand down over his bare chest to squeeze the soft bulge in front of his shorts.
"What's going on, Bill?" she asked, hoping she didn't sound cross.
He looked up from kissing her chest. "Tired. Maybe this was a bad idea."
"No." She kissed his upper lip. "Not a bad idea. Just an idea not well executed."
He was quiet for a moment. "You don't taste like booze."
The statement shocked her even though, of course, it was true. "Does this surprise you?"
"No … I mean, yes. It's different. And I feel badly that you sobered up for this-"
"Sobered up?"
"And I couldn't deliver. I'm sorry. I'm saying all the wrong things." He moved away, landing with his back against the pool wall with what appeared to be resounding defeat. Laura took a deep breath, trying to contain her anger.
"Maybe it was a bad idea." She had to say it. She knew she shouldn't, but she couldn't stop herself from just one barb, even if it was a lie.
His heavy sigh broke whatever mood was left. "I was in a lot of pain today. I took some drugs to stop it, and it's obviously … stopped other things."
"Why were you in pain?"
It was way too quiet and she was tired of his silence. "I understand your need for privacy but shutting me down every time I ask a question-every time I'm concerned about you-that's not working for me."
"You don't need to be concerned about me." He leaned his head back, his arms spread across the edge of the pool. "That wasn't my intention."
"I know. It wasn't mine either." More anger and now she yearned for her flask which was safely and inconveniently stored back in her room-a very rare occurrence. "Trust me. I wasn't looking for this."
"You were just looking for sex."
"Well, weren't you?"
"Yeah, I was."
Laura turned around and pulled herself out of the pool. "I need to cool off and think about things. I need to think about what this all means." She walked over to her chair and grabbed her towel, wrapping it around her.
"It can't mean anything."
She looked back at him. The way the words caused a twist in her stomach was evidence that it already meant too much.
"For your first cruise, you sure have the whole 'no attachments' thing down."
"Wait." Like she wasn't already waiting, just to see if he would do the dramatic thing, have his turnaround, save the day, like in some frakked up romance novel. She stood, cold in the chill of the night air, as he made his way to the stairs at the shallow end of the pool and trudged up, using the bar for support. Then he walked over to his lounge chair and toweled off. How she was patient enough for him to perform these theatrics she didn't know.
"My mother always told me never to go to bed angry," he said.
He didn't approach her, though he was just a few feet away. He had to know how lame he sounded. It was not an apology or a concession. "Did your mother also tell you not to fight with girls?"
"Yeah. She did." He ran a hand through his hair as he slipped his feet into his sandals. "Laura, I don't have the energy for this. I don't know where we're going here, but we should sleep on it."
"I need time to think, too." There were a lot of other things she wouldn't say right now. He might not want to hear them-the good and the bad.
Bill walked over to her and kissed her forehead, then continued past her, disappearing through the same door he'd entered not even thirty minutes earlier.