Chapter Twenty-Two

Day at Sea

Every set of eyes at the table locked onto me. What had I done? I hadn't meant to sound so argumentative.

But now the attention of two sets of parents was more glaring than the magician's spotlights. I couldn't back down.

"It's hard work to stay in shape for football, not to mention nutrition and learning plays. He almost beat me for most service hours this year, and our GPAs are the same. And you should have seen him at trivia this afternoon," I said. "Even Mr. Ramirez was impressed."

His parents' eyes widened. My mom was nodding, while my dad was looking at me.

"She's the one who was impressive," Tanner said. "I just had fun pressing the buzzer. And it came with free Cokes."

I met his gaze, but I couldn't read his expression. "You're not giving yourself enough credit."

"I had some lucky guesses. And they asked a lot of football questions. Can you please pass the butter again, Mrs. Moore?"

My mom handed it to him and cleared her throat. "Well. I'm glad you two had fun."

Conversation resumed, and once the others were talking, Tanner asked quietly, "What was that?"

"I could ask you the same question. What's up with pretending to be dumb all the time?"

"Who says I'm pretending? You never thought so before."

"That was before I knew you."

He stopped slathering butter on his roll and met my eyes. "And you do now?"

"Better than you realize."

"So you've, what, appointed yourself my defender?"

Had I? "If you aren't going to defend yourself, then maybe, yeah."

We were leaning toward each other across the table and hissing our words to keep quiet, but conviction filled my voice.

His expression flickered from frowning to something soft and warm, before going blank. "Thanks, but don't waste your effort on a losing battle."

I was about to argue, when he said, "Save your energy for that battle instead."

The server stopped at our table with his tray of silver domes. When he uncovered mine and placed the plate in front of me, I almost told him to take it away.

The orangey shell with a tail at one end was split on top so white meat bulged out of the opening. I wasn't the only one who had ordered surf and turf. Multiple lobster tails adorned the table, as horrifying as the crab legs.

"I greatly prefer it when my food doesn't look like an actual animal," I said.

"But you aren't a vegetarian."

"I don't mind eating animals. I just want it not to look like one."

Tanner laughed. "One bite? Or eat the steak first and see how you feel."

I could do that.

The steak was regular cow, no Alaskan mammals involved, and the potato was normal with my usual cheese and bacon. Between bites, I eyed the lobster.

At least there wasn't a head attached. Or those little antenna things. Then I definitely would have made a run for it. Or tried to throw it back into the ocean.

Tanner was eating his, digging the white meat out of the shell. I didn't want to watch and yet couldn't look away.

"What does it taste like?" I asked. "Don't say chicken."

"It's kind of soft and sweet. Have you ever had shrimp?"

"No."

"Oh. Well, the meat is like that. You can cover it in butter."

A small cup sat beside the tail. The butter had been melted when the food arrived, but now the top had started to congeal.

"That didn't sell the snails, and I'm not sure it's selling this."

I poked the meat with my fork. A bite flaked off easily. I glanced at Tanner.

"The offer stands to cause a distraction if you need to spit it out," he said. "I could spill my drink or throw a roll at someone."

It was sweet that he was willing to risk his parents' wrath by causing a scene during a formal dinner. Or it was more of that intentional distraction stuff.

Here went nothing. I studied the bite on the fork and, like the polar plunge and the pea soup, shoved it into my mouth before I could chicken out.

It wasn't awful. A little sweet, like he'd said. Not chewy, which probably would have made me spit it out. I swallowed.

"Well?" Tanner asked.

"It was scarier than the soup? But not terrible?"

He laughed. "Are you gonna eat more?"

"You already had a steak and all of yours."

"I require lots of calories. But if you want to eat more…"

Now I kind of did, to prove myself. I forced down two more bites before the sight of the orange tail hit me again, and I shoved my plate toward him with a shudder.

He chuckled.

I took another piece of bread. Chewed.

The bread lodged in my throat briefly. It felt…tight. Hard to swallow. I sipped my water. The roof of my mouth itched. I sucked up an ice cube and rolled it around my tongue.

"Dessert?" The waiter cleared our plates and presented us new menus.

An itch distracted me. I rubbed my arm. Red bumps had formed on the inside of my forearm.

Was it getting hard to breathe?

"Um. I think I shouldn't have had that lobster."

"Savannah?" My mom turned to me. "What's wrong?"

I scratched my collarbone.

"Oh no," Mom said. "That looks like hives. What did you eat?"

"Is this the first time you've ever eaten shellfish?" Mrs. Woods asked.

"Probably?" I rubbed my neck, finding more bumps, and swallowed hard again.

"We better get you to the medical facility." My mom stood.

My gaze met Tanner's stricken face. "I'm so sorry, S'more."

Mom put her arm around me and guided me through the dining room, winding around tables. Many were topped with stupid lobsters, and it was like an obstacle course taunting me. I stumbled along, the room blurring, my brain numb.

"Do you feel sick?" she asked. "Dizzy? Can you breathe?"

I pressed my lips, which tingled but weren't swollen. I could breathe, right? In and out, in and out. "Just itchy, I think."

"Hopefully the symptoms will stay mild. I'm so sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"You're my child. I should have known about any food allergies."

"How could you, though? I've never tried it before. Seriously. Don't blame yourself."

I rubbed my itchy arms again.

Thanks to my first-day tour, I knew exactly where the medical facility was, on the ship's lowest level. Score one for being a curious nerd. It had several small rooms with curtains, and one room full of rows of medicines. Half were probably for seasickness. The place looked like a mini hospital.

I was ushered into a room with a faint antiseptic smell lingering in the air.

The doctor was a woman older than mom with a Boston accent. She settled me onto a bed, took my blood pressure, heart rate, and temperature, inspected my arms and my mouth.

"Allergic reaction," she said. "So far, it's not severe enough to require a shot. I'll give you an antihistamine, and we'll see if that helps. I'd like to keep you here for a little while to make sure it doesn't get worse."

I swallowed the pill she gave me and sank onto the pillows. Mom smoothed my hair out of my face and took my hand.

Nothing good came of eating food that looked like animals.

I must have drifted off, because the next thing I knew, Tanner was sitting in the seat Mom had been in. His big frame looked cramped in the small chair, and he was jiggling his foot and tapping on the arm.

I blinked a few times and rolled my head toward him. My brain felt fuzzy. But my arms no longer itched, and I could swallow without a problem.

"Tanner?"

"Hey!" He yanked out his earbuds, put down his phone, and leaned toward me. A slight smile flickered and faded. He reached for my hand but stopped. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine. Just sleepy from the drugs. How long have you been here?"

His eyes darted away. "Not long. Just got here. So, uh, your mom could take a break."

He was totally lying. My lips pressed together to contain a smile.

"What are you listening to? Shouty music?"

"Yep, what else?" He still wasn't meeting my gaze, so I snatched an earbud and jammed it into my ear.

He fumbled for his phone, and before he turned it off, I heard a man's voice, talking.

"Tanner Woods. Is this a podcast? An educational one?"

"Of course not. I should get the doctor, let her know you're awake." He reached over and took the earbud from my ear, jammed them into his pocket.

I wanted to smirk as he stepped past the curtain. But the humor faded. He'd absolutely been sitting there for a while. What time was it, anyway? And what did it mean that he'd spent the whole evening at my side?

The doctor appeared. "Hello, Miss Moore. Feeling better?"

I nodded.

She checked me out again. "Breathing okay? Mouth normal? No more hives?"

"I think I'm fine."

"Excellent. You're free to go. If any of the symptoms return, or you experience any dizziness or swelling, don't hesitate to come back."

Tanner stooped to pick up something under the bed but hid it from me, then offered his hand to help me off the bed. After we exited the medical office and stood in the quiet hall, he handed me a cup.

"What's this?"

"Milkshake. Since you missed dessert."

My insides warmed.

"I kind of drank some of it," he said. "And it might be a little melted. You slept for a long time. So your mom said, I mean. Since I just got here."

"Uh huh. Right." The first swallow revealed mint chocolate, my favorite. "How did you get this?"

He waved a hand. "Oh, it was easy."

I stopped, sipping and watching him, waiting.

He paused farther down the hall and turned to look at me. "I went to the ice cream place for three scoops of mint chip and then took it to the coffee shop and convinced them to blend it with milk and extra chocolate syrup."

The ice cream place was on deck eleven, the coffee shop on deck three, which meant he'd gone on a scavenger hunt across the ship, sweet-talking people into helping him. For me. And he'd remembered my order.

I stared at the cup. "Thank you."

"I felt bad for pressuring you into eating the lobster."

"Hey." I chanced a peek. "I know this wasn't your fault. You didn't force me to eat."

"Of course it wasn't. It was the lobster's. He was clearly a questionable crustacean."

I laughed softly. My heart clenched at the knowledge that he had, in fact, thought I might hold him responsible. I was sad that he'd think that of me, and also sad for him, that he blamed himself so easily.

"Clearly," I said. "I will forever be suspicious of lobsters from this point forward."

"The milkshake was supposed to be an apology milkshake, but if you're saying I don't have anything to be sorry for, I guess I should take it back." He reached out a hand.

I hugged the cup to me and shielded it with my body. "You wouldn't dare. But I do like that idea. Anytime you do something from this point forward that requires an apology, I will expect a milkshake."

"Good to know you're easily bribed. Does the size of the milkshake have to match the size of the offense?"

"Why, are you planning to do things that will require bucket-sized milkshakes' worth of apologies?"

"Absolutely not. But I'm an idiot, so I can't make any promises except to try not to ever have to bring you an apology milkshake."

Our gazes held. Was there a future where Tanner and I spent enough time together that we not only fought, but cared enough to make up after an argument? I found myself hoping there was.

"You are okay, right?" His eyes traced my face, serious now.

"I am. And since we're apologizing…" My face flushed as I recalled the rest of dinner. "I'm sorry if I said anything you didn't want me to. About trivia and all that."

"Why did you?"

I sucked the milkshake and debated what to say. "I think you underestimate yourself and let others do it, too. Actively make them underestimate you. It worked on me for years, and that's my fault. But I guess I got, I don't know, defensive. On your behalf."

He studied me, speechless. Wow. I'd broken him.

I looked away. "I should tell my parents I'm okay. I'm surprised my mom isn't here."

He walked me to our hall and gave me a quick side hug. Was that something we did now? Or was it a result of my near-death-by-lobster? He was affectionate. It meant nothing. Right?

He waited for me to unlock the door. "Sleep well, S'more."

It seemed like he wanted to say more but didn't.

My heart tumbled around in my chest, and I hugged the nearly empty cup. "Thanks for the milkshake."

I wanted to say more. But my mom was calling, "Savannah, is that you?"

"Night," I said, and slipped inside, cradling the cup like it was something precious.