Be My Anchor

Chapter Four

I was sitting on the floor of our room, staring down at my suitcase as if I had options on what to wear tonight. Mom made sure we all knew that it was a nice restaurant, so our attire should be appropriate. I only brought one fancy outfit, I just wasn't eager to finish getting ready.

Mom approached me with half of her red hair braided and her makeup done. "Hey, do you want me to curl your hair or something?"

"No, thanks," I responded immediately. I wasn't planning to try that hard for this dinner.

And anyway we never did that kind of thing: mother helping daughter get ready. It was just not us.

She frowned, but decidedly changed the subject. "Did you have fun with Tristan today? He's only a year older than you and I don't think he's dating anyone-"

I choked on my spit. "No need to play matchmaker, Mom," I asserted, not making eye contact. "Today was fine, but I'm not looking to date him."

"Okay, okay, I'll back off," she conceded and went off to finish getting ready.

I looked back down at my suitcase and threw on the lightweight floral dress. I walked over to the mirror, bringing my hair to the front of my shoulders and looking at the auburn color. I left it down.

**

The restaurant was one of the largest rooms on the cruise ship. The tables were covered in white cloth and the silverware was perfectly set. A large staircase cascaded down the middle of the room, leading to another level filled with more tables.

The walls were lined with floor-to-ceiling windows to present a view of the murderous ocean. In every direction I looked, the ocean stared back. I put my head down for some semblance of relief.

Who designed this place? I would've liked to have a word with them.

Our families greeted each other once we reached our table. I sat down quickly, choosing the chair best fit for avoiding the ocean. Tristan stalked around the table toward me.

I looked at him. I looked at his lips, once so close to mine. I looked away. My hands were fidgeting under the table.

He sat down in the chair next to me and smiled. "You look great," he said.

I blushed a little and avoided eye contact. "Thanks."

After we all got settled the dinner was going just how I imagined it to. Luke and Davis were drawing something on their kid's menus and cackling to themselves. Our parents were talking about various adult things in which Tristan would occasionally join, but he mostly talked to me.

I tried my best to keep up the conversation, but he maintained eye contact too long, smiled too wide, and laughed too hard. At one point, he draped his arm along the back of my chair. I leaned forward to make sure my back didn't touch him.

I didn't like how casual he was being like we'd been friends for years when we hadn't.

Two sodas later and I excused myself to find the bathroom. But if I was being honest, it was more for a break from the table than my actual need to use a toilet.

I was walking back to the table when I turned abruptly and smacked my hand against a cold, wet surface. The drink flew right off of a tray that a waiter was holding and spilled all over another diner.

"I'm so sorry!" I blurted out. I felt horrible that I had ruined this person's...oddly wrinkled blue shirt.

"Damn it," said a familiar voice. "You don't have to keep proving to me that you're clumsy. I already know."

I looked up from his soaked shirt to see Gabe with his messy hair and dark eyes. Why did I keep embarrassing myself in front of this guy?

I didn't mind running into him, believe me, but I did mind that every time it happened, I ended up looking like an idiot. And anyway, this was the one place I didn't expect to see him. Fine dining didn't exactly seem like his scene.