Chapter Text
CONRAD
The holidays linger like bad perfume
You can run, but only so far
I escaped it too, remember how you watched me leave
But if it's okay with you, it's okay with me
It hit me before I even saw her—that feeling, like my whole body was buzzing, my pulse speeding up without permission. The way I used to feel when she was close, even before I knew she was there.
I turned around, and there she was.
She wasn’t looking at me yet, too focused on the crew member handing out life jackets. She had on a white sundress that tied at the shoulders, with little blue shells all over. The wind was blowing strands of hair into her face, and she kept pushing it back. She looked older than the last time I saw her, more confident. She stood a little straighter. It hit me that she might not be the same girl I used to know—or worse, that she’d erased me.
But then I saw her bring her fingers to her mouth, biting her nails. There she was. She was still Belly.
I wasn’t breathing. Wasn’t moving. Just staring, caught in the pull of her, like it was that summer all over again.
She reached for a life jacket, and before I knew it, I’d stepped forward. Her hand brushed mine. It was softer than I remembered. She looked up—right at me.
She didn’t say anything at first. Neither did I. For a second, it was like no one else existed. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, louder than the muffled announcements over the speakers or the crowd of people.
“Conrad?” My name on her lips was a sucker punch to the gut.
I wasn’t supposed to see her. Not here. Not now. Not on a cruise ship headed into the Caribbean, two thousand miles from home.
I booked this trip to get away. Clear my head. My roommate had talked me into it last minute—he’d bought the ticket months ago, planning to go with someone else, but when that fell through, he sold it to me for half price. I told myself it would be a good thing. Get away from med school, actually relax over Christmas break.
I wasn’t exactly looking forward to Christmas at Cousins with my dad and Jere. But who was I kidding? The real reason was her. Walking into that living room would’ve wrecked me. The cocoa, the fireplace, the way she looked at me that night—it’d all come rushing back. I couldn’t do it.
Every year it got worse around Christmas. I couldn’t stop replaying the sound of her laugh in my head. Or remembering the way she used to fit perfectly pressed against me. I wanted to stop thinking about how I’d blown it all to hell with her.
But of course, Belly was here. The one person I couldn’t outrun. The one person I didn’t know how to let go of.
“What are you doing here?”
That was the thing about her. She always asked the questions I didn’t want to answer.
I shrugged, trying to sound casual. “Just needed to get away for a bit.”
She waited, like I was going to elaborate. Like there was anything more to say. There wasn’t. Not to her.
“And you?” I asked. I wasn’t sure I even wanted to know, but the words were out before I could stop them.
She hesitated. Her fingers gripped the life jacket she still hadn’t put on. “Same, I guess.”
It sounded light, casual, but her eyes didn’t match. They never did. Belly could try to play it cool all she wanted, but I knew her. I knew the way she always sucked in her cheeks when she was nervous. She glanced around like she needed an escape route. “Well, I better—”
Before she could finish, a crew member stepped in, barking instructions for everyone to put their jackets on. I was glad. I needed the distraction to catch my breath and steady the pounding in my chest. But it didn’t work. Not when she was standing right there.
She slipped the life jacket over her head, and it brought my eyes to her bare shoulder, already getting tanned from the sun. I shouldn’t have noticed. But I did.
“Conrad,”
My head snapped up, like I hadn’t just been staring at her shoulder like some idiot.
She pointed to the row behind me. “Your spot’s over there.”
“Right. Thanks,” I muttered, stepping back. But I didn’t stop watching her. Not really. She was a few feet away now, her arms folded across the life jacket, looking down at the deck, listening. Her hair was falling over her face, and I had this stupid urge to push it back.
I shook my head, forcing myself to look somewhere else, anywhere else. God, what were the odds, really? The one Christmas I decided to run—book a last-minute cruise, of all things—and she’s here too. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.
Not that I even knew what “this” was supposed to be.
The drill wrapped up, but the buzzing in my head didn’t. People started filing off the deck, peeling off life jackets and going on about their day. I stayed where I was, waiting for the crowd to thin out.
She must have had the same thought.
Belly stood near the railing, letting people pass. Her hands were resting on the edge like she wasn’t in a rush to go anywhere. It wasn’t an invitation, but it wasn’t not one either.
I didn’t overthink it. Or maybe I did, but my feet moved before my brain object.
“Your first cruise?” I asked, stepping up beside her.
She glanced up at me, and for a second, I thought she might tell me to leave. But instead, there was a hint of a smile. “Yeah. You?”
I shook my head, resting my arms on the railing. “I haven’t been on one since I was a kid. Last-minute thing.”
“Same,” she said, her voice quieter now.
We stood there for a second, not looking at each other. We both looked out over the water. It should’ve been peaceful, but all I could feel was her.
“So,” she said after a moment, breaking the quiet. “Are you here with…” Her voice trailed off before she finished. “Jeremiah?”
The question hit harder than it should’ve.
“He’s with Dad. Christmas at Cousins,” I said. “I wasn’t really…feeling it this year.”
She nodded like she understood.
“What about you?” I asked. Did I really want to know the answer? My stomach twisted at the thought of her here with another guy.
Her fingers traced the edge of the railing. “Mom wanted me to come home, but I needed… I don’t know. Space, I guess.”
I stole a glance at her, trying to read between the lines. Space from what? She wasn’t giving much away, but I could see it in the way she kept fidgeting with the tips of her hair. Belly was the kind of person who always felt too much, even when she tried not to.
The wind caught her hair, tossing it across her face, and she reached up to push it back. Her hand brushed mine on the railing, and the contact was so quick it shouldn’t have mattered. But it did. Just that one touch felt like something electric.
She had a funny look on her face when she said, “I uh, I better go find my room.” She smoothed her dress and put some space between us. “Maybe I’ll see you later?”
I nodded, watching her walk away faster than she should have. Is that what I wanted? To see her later? “Yeah, see ya.” I said into the wind, Belly already too far away to hear.
I waited a few minutes before heading to my cabin. I wove through the maze of colorful carpets and and dark wood paneling. The halls were narrow and quiet, except for the occasional burst of laughter from a group of girls or the rattling of a suitcase bumping against the walls.
Room 8057. Not bad. It was near the end of the corridor, pretty close to everything. According to the booking site, it was a balcony room, which sounded decent. I reached into my pocket for the keycard and waved it over the lock. The door clicked open just as I heard her voice.
“Seriously?” she muttered, somewhere behind me.
I turned. And there she was.
Belly was a few doors down, dragging her suitcase behind her. One of the wheels kept catching, and she glared at it like it had personally betrayed her. She looked the way she always did when she got frustrated—cheeks flushed, bottom lip caught between her teeth. Cute, but in the kind of way that made my chest tighten.
I thought about pretending I didn’t see her. It would have been so easy to slip inside my room and let this whole moment pass. But then her head turned, and our eyes met.
She froze, blinking like she was waiting for me to disappear. When I didn’t, she laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
I leaned against my door frame, crossing my arms. “What?”
She took a few more steps and then stopped, gesturing to the door next to mine.
“This is me.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
We stood there, neither of us saying anything. I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or scream. Of all the places in the world, of all the cabins on this ship—this was where she ended up. Belly sighed, pulling her keycard from her bag. “Well, this should be… interesting.”
She pushed the door open, then paused, glancing back at me. “Wait. Is that—” I followed her gaze to the small connecting door between our rooms.
“No way,” she muttered under her breath, stepping inside to check.
Sure enough, there it was. A plain white door, locked from both sides, but there.
“Seriously?” she said again, turning back to me.
I couldn’t help it—I laughed. It slipped out before I could stop it. “Guess we’re neighbors. Let me know if you need to borrow anything. A cup of sugar. Toilet paper.” I smirked, leaning back against the doorframe.
She didn’t laugh. She just shook her head, somewhere between annoyed and amused. “Great. That’s… great.”
For a second, we just stood there, staring at each other. I could practically see the wheels turning in her head as she tried to figure out how to escape this without making it weirder than it already was.
“Well,” she finally said, shifting back toward her room, “I should, uh, unpack. “See you… later?”
“Sure,” I said, as casually as I could manage. “Later.”
She disappeared into her room, and her door clicked shut. I went inside, too.
But I couldn’t stop staring at that stupid connecting door. Seven days. How the hell was I going to survive seven days of this?