Chapter 2

Dinner seemsto stretch into eternity. One after another, men approach our table, each sporting a contrived smile, drenched in overpowering cologne, with hair so slick it could be mistaken for post-shower dampness. They rotate like clockwork, each entrance and exit timed with precision, armed with what they perceive as charming compliments or drab stories. These attempts at conversation spark enthusiasm in Alice and mild curiosity in Alina, but for me, they induce nothing but mind-numbing boredom. None of these suitors demonstrate any authentic charm or wit. Each seems convinced he's God's gift to women, believing he's rescuing us from the depths of solitude with his mere presence.

"What's your name, cutie?" A brave soul ventures to my side of the table, bombarding me with a series of questions I find utterly uninteresting.

Responding with a polite but forced smile, I excuse myself from the table under the guise of exhaustion, eager to escape the barrage of unwanted attention. Alina gives me a side hug as I scramble away, telling me once again to be careful on deck. I've earned a reputation as a klutz and can't be trusted to walk in a straight line.

"No need to worry about me. I'm not about to parade around the deck. With three glasses of champagne in me, my pillow is screaming for me to join it," I tease, seizing the opportunity to slip away behind a cluster of women aiming for the nearest exit. One of them catches sight of my discomfort and feigns recognition, swiftly integrating me into their circle to ward off any male pursuers. As I blend into the safety of their group, it's becoming clear that this vacation is not what I envisioned.

As I trail behind the group of girls heading for the elevators, I overhear their lively banter, filled with amusing anecdotes about all the men they've met on the first day. Their outrageous experiences only cement my previous desire to avoid any emotional entanglements for the following week.

I step onto the elevator, skillfully maneuvering through the packed space to reach the secluded back, craving anonymity and silence from the crowd. My only desire is to escape the confines of my tight dress, change into comfortable pajamas, and immerse myself in my books.

Amara, before moving away, left me her cherished collection of steamy romance novels, teasing that they'd spice up my potentially dull summer. Skeptical at first, I've found her insight surprisingly discerning. She seems to understand my tastes more than I do. With three of her books in tow, I'm prepared to dive in and not come up for air until we dock.

With so many stops, the elevator ride takes longer than usual. Each girl's cabin appears to be on a different deck, and I'm so focused on staring at my shoes to avoid eye contact, I accidentally miss my floor. I watch the buttons light up, flying past the twelfth, thirteenth, and onto the upper deck, where the final couple lingering in the elevator car with me step out excitedly. The woman politely waves as she exits and wishes me a good night. I smile and exchange sentiments, waiting for the sliding doors to close.

"Nerissa…" The sound of my name floats through the air, a spectral whisper riding the salty breeze, beckoning me to its origin. Initially, I wonder if the couple ahead might have left something behind, but logic swiftly dispels this notion—they don't know my name.

"Nerissa…" The voice, almost otherworldly, stirs my curiosity.

Curious, I let the doors glide open, craning my neck into the corridor to search for the caller. The hallway is empty, yet the familiarity of the voice haunts me, nudging against my memory. Though part of me yearns to retreat to the safety of my cabin, curiosity wins, and I find myself stepping through the opening, my feet carrying me across the sleek, polished deck, drawn by the enigmatic call that seems to know me.

The cool night breeze caresses my skin as I traverse the deck, my eyes occasionally flicking to the dark expanse of the ocean, its surface a seamless extension of the night sky. Grasping the nearest wall for support, I'm drawn by a captivating, high-pitched song, its heavenly and foreboding melody piercing the silence with crystalline clarity, beckoning me towards the ship's stern. Initially resisting its call, I find brief solace leaning against the railing near the swimming pool, trying to anchor myself in the face of the mysterious tune that no one appears to hear but me.

Oddly enough, the stern, which I anticipated would be teeming with couples seeking a starlit romance, stands eerily deserted. The low-hanging clouds seem to descend even closer, swirling amidst the frothy wake of the ship. Motivated by an inexplicable impulse, I find myself drawn to the railing—a boundary I vowed never to breach. My pause is short-lived as the angelic yet haunting melody resumes, its siren call pulling me nearer. Entranced, I'm powerless to resist. My heart races and my breathing becomes labored. I'm fixated on the inky void below, captivated and unable to tear my gaze away from the mysterious depths.

I'll catch you. I'll catch you. These words echo in my consciousness, calming my apprehension with a voice that has haunted thousands of my dreams. It's deep, sultry, reminiscent of a lover's whisper, seducing me to come closer. I inch nearer, my fingers clenching the rail, as I battle the overpowering desire to lean farther, to surrender to the pull, resisting the gravitational lure that tempts me to plunge into the undulating waves below.

"For heaven's sake, Nerissa! How many times must I warn you?" Alina's voice cuts through the night as she firmly grabs my forearm, yanking me back from the brink. Her scolding words tumble out as she pulls me to safer ground, "Do you realize how quickly a simple jolt can send you over the edge? And if nobody witnesses it, there's no chance to alert the crew. We'd be far gone before anyone realized you're missing." She threads her arm through mine, guiding me away with a mix of concern and exasperation, her head shaking in a silent rebuke of my careless curiosity.

"I'm sorry, I thought I heard someone calling me," I confess, a flush of embarrassment creeping in as I hear the absurdity of my words spoken aloud.

Alina chuckles, pressing the elevator button for the lower decks. "I'll have to remember—two glasses of champagne is your limit. Anything more, and you start hearing things!" she teases, her laughter light and friendly as we head to our rooms.