***
Though Melanie had protested the idea of having a drink (or three) before her date, she was quite glad in that moment that Lisa and Shauna had insisted. Her nerves had been uncontrollable before and she worried that she might spend half the night in the bathroom because of them. But then the girls had forced her to drink a cranberry and vodka (smuggled vodka, of course) while she got ready. It was quite a tasty drink, so she had a couple more, and by the time Devon arrived at her door, she was feeling much more relaxed. It barely crossed her mind that his hands had been all over her earlier that day.
Of course, the fact that he looked like one of the really hot guys from a CW show sobered her a bit. What was she doing with a guy like him, anyway? She certainly didn’t look like one of the girls from a CW show. They all had either perfectly straight, shiny hair that never seemed to bother them even though it was always in their faces or they had those perfect, blonde waves that looked so good blowing in the breeze.
Curly, frizzy, red…these were not adjectives to describe CW hair.
At least her dress looked good. A designer loaner from Lisa, she knew she’d be dead meat if she spilled anything on it. But Lisa had insisted she wear white. Melanie still didn’t understand why. However, she wasn’t in a position to question it. Her friends got way more dates than she did, and they both had guys calling them off the hook. Clearly, they knew what they were doing.
Melanie, however, had been celibate for more than a year.
But the dress was really exquisite. All white with thick straps that gave way to a sweetheart neckline. The waist was fitted with a wide band all the way around, and the a-line skirt poofed out just enough that it would sway nicely in the breeze but not flash the entire lido deck should they take a walk outside.
Shauna had done her makeup. It was a little overkill, if you asked her, but she did look pretty good.
“Here we are.”
They were on the promenade now. It was quite a romantic place, like a faux Paris. Greenery and sidewalk cafes, people strolling about and window-shopping. Melanie thought she might like this part of the cruise the most.
She looked up and saw that they were in front of the pub. Billy Joel’s Piano Man wafted from inside. Melanie smiled. “I love pubs,” she said. “How did you know?”
Devon shrugged. “I didn’t. But I’ve been wanting to try this place ever since I saw it. Seemed like a good spot to start our date.”
Indeed it was. They sat down and ordered pints of Guinness. Melanie figured it would be better to order a drink she could nurse rather than something she might be inclined to pound if it were light or fruity.
“So, you’re an actress, huh?” Devon asked once they had their drinks in hand.
She hated talking about that part of her life. It had brought her so much joy in the past—she had lived for performing. But now…now it just felt like something she was doing because it was the only thing she knew. And landing a show would be her escape—albeit probably only a temporary one—from waitressing. She currently had no other options for a career or even a job.
“Yeah,” she finally said. “Trying to be, anyway. It’s been a while since I’ve performed, though.”
Devon gave her a wry smile. “You just love waitressing too much to leave?” he teased.
She laughed. “You know it.” Melanie paused. “Actually, I hate being a waitress. And I’m horrible at it, for the record. Last week I nearly dumped a bowl of spaghetti and meatballs onto a two-year-old. Not my finest moment, but thankfully the kid’s mom took most of the damage. Of course, my paycheck took some damage to pay for her Armani blouse.”
“Who wears Armani to go out to eat with a two-year-old?”
Melanie looked up at Devon, surprised to realize that he was on her side. He was on her side. After being chewed out by Cliff for the humiliating accident and getting reactions like, “Oh, my God! I can’t believe you weren’t fired!” from her friends, she couldn’t believe this near stranger actually empathized with her.
“Um, I know, right?” she said, trying to hide the fact that she was completely flustered by his kindness. “But anyway, enough about my insanely boring and depressing life. I want to hear about you.”
Five
Devon took a deep breath. He liked this girl. A lot. He couldn’t understand why. She was totally down on life and clearly struggling with some insecurity, but at the same time, she seemed unbreakable. Maybe she didn’t have everything figured out, but she wasn’t about to lie down and let life get the better of her. He didn’t know how he knew that—she certainly hadn’t said anything to inspire those thoughts—but he knew it just the same.
However, now she wanted to know about him. That was the bigger problem here. Part of him wanted to divulge who he really was—start off on the right foot with Melanie. But he knew that wasn’t an option. Not now, not yet.
“Well,” he began, “I grew up on Long Island. Typical suburban upbringing. Parents divorced after I went off to college—”
“Where did you go?” Melanie interrupted.
“Columbia.” Melanie’s eyebrows shot up in shock. Devon knew it sounded impressive, but getting in had just been a lucky combination of good grades and recommendations. It wasn’t as if he had excelled once he was there. “And I’ve been in the city ever since.”
“Columbia grad turned cruise ship masseuse?”
“Yeah, I know how it sounds. Too smart for the real world and all that, but…” But what? But I already made my fortune and now I’m just killing time until I think up the next big thing? “But I realized that I just wasn’t cut out for life in a suit, in an office, nine-to-five every day. It definitely wasn’t for me.”
“Well, good for you,” she said, lifting her beer into the air. “To doing what makes us happy.”
They clinked mugs and took swigs of their beer.
“So, are you happy?” he asked, wanting to shift the conversation away from himself and back on her.
Melanie gave a little laugh. “I’m happy right now,” she said, blushing. “But in general? No. Not really.”
Devon leaned forward and put his elbows on the table. “What would truly make you happy, then?”
“Does it matter?”
“Of course it matters. If you can dream it, you can do it, right?”
“You make it sound like magic.”
Devon shrugged. “Maybe it is. Either way, it’s fun to dream, isn’t it? So, come on. If you could do anything, be anything, go anywhere…?”
“All right,” Melanie said, clearly ready to play along. “I would have a really swank apartment in the city. No roaches.” Devon laughed. “Floor-to-ceiling windows, one of those low-to-the ground beds that costs a fortune. Oh, and appliances that respond when you talk to them.”
Devon tried to laugh along with her—clearly she found her dreams to be pretty silly. But Devon didn’t think they were silly at all. After all, he had everything she had outlined so far, even the appliances, which were admittedly really cool.
“I would want to travel—a lot,” she continued. “I’ve never been to Europe, and I think Tokyo would be a great place to visit. And eventually, I would want to have a baby…or two.”
Silence fell between them for a moment.
“Oh, my God. I can’t believe I just said that.” She put her forehead in her hand. “I promise I’m not trying to scare you off with baby talk.”
Devon hadn’t been the least bit fazed by the topic. “Hey, I want kids, too. At least two, but more would be fine.”
Melanie tried not to laugh. “You know, maybe we should save this talk for the second date.”
“Does that mean you’ll go out with me again?” Devon hoped so.
“Well, the night’s not over yet, but if you asked me now, I’d say yes.”
Satisfied with her answer, Devon motioned to the bartender to bring the receipt so he could sign off on it. “Ready for dinner?”
“Starved.”
&
nbsp; They meandered through the ship, marveling at its grandeur, until they reached the buffet. He hated that he couldn’t take her somewhere nicer than the buffet, but with any luck, he would have plenty of opportunity for that later. Surely there would be nice options ashore, and maybe he could even take her out in New York. For now, this would have to do.
True to her word, she packed in all the food she possibly could in one sitting. “How in the world are you so skinny?” he wondered as they left the dining hall.
“Ha! Skinny? Not usually a word I use to describe myself. Don’t get me wrong—I don’t think I’m fat or anything, but…” She paused. “Sorry. I’m not great at taking compliments. And for the record, I work my ass off at the gym least six days a week.”
As they emerged through the sliding doors onto the outside deck, the sun setting on the water before them and the wind ruffling their hair, Devon had the urge to grab Melanie around the waist and kiss her. He wasn’t usually the sappy, romantic type, but something about this environment had turned him into one.
Still, he wasn’t sure they were there yet. He wanted to be certain she wouldn’t slap him in the face before he made his move.
They strolled along the jogging track, which was nearly deserted tonight. Most people were still at dinner or getting ready to see the on-board musical. That suited Devon just fine.
“So, when you talked about your dreams earlier, you didn’t say anything about performing.”
Melanie stared out at the ocean from their spot at the railing. “Hm. I didn’t, did I?”
Devon let her think on it for a minute. Clearly, she wasn’t sure what to think of it herself.
“It doesn’t make me happy anymore,” she finally said. “Actually, I get a little nauseated just thinking about it.”
“Nauseated?”
“It used to get me so excited, so pumped up. But now…now it’s just a job. A job I go to every day where any number of potential bosses say to me, ‘You’re not good enough.’”
“Really?” Devon looked at her, shocked that anyone could say that so bluntly to another human being.
Melanie gave a little laugh. “Well, not in so many words. It’s always cushioned with, ‘I don’t think you’re right for this part,’ or something to that effect. Either way, I rarely feel good about myself or my life when I walk out the door of an audition.”
“Ever thought that maybe you’re barking up the wrong tree?”
“I think about it all the time.” She turned to look at him, her eyes squinted slightly against the setting sun. Strands of her shimmering red hair blew across her face. “You know, you’re the first person I’ve ever admitted that to.”
Devon couldn’t help but feel flattered by that fact. And he was pretty sure he couldn’t hold back anymore. She had confided in him. That must mean she liked him, right?
He took a step toward her, leaving barely a half-inch of space between them. Her lips parted on an inhale, and Devon seized the opportunity. He lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers. They were soft and sweet—she tasted like the pineapple she’d had for dessert.
She responded by taking the lead, allowing him to deepen the kiss. He reached a hand up to caress her cheek and eventually found the nape of her neck. She leaned back into his hand as if she couldn’t hold her own head up anymore and Devon gave a silent cheer of triumph.