How to Love the Stars | Ghost (Simon Riley)

Chapter 38

Althea felt like throwing up once again. They were stuck on this stupid boat for four hours. Every rock of the waves against the hull of the boat made her want to hurl.

Althea's discomfort only seemed to worsen as the time dragged on aboard the boat. The relentless rocking and the relentless nausea left her feeling like she might just throw up again. She cast a longing glance toward the shoreline, wishing they could be on solid ground already. Ghost had sat across from her, leaning back against the seat and getting comfortable. Now he was just blatantly staring at her, which only made the boat ride even more uncomfortable.

Soap, who was humming a tune beside her seemed to neither notice her discomfort nor Ghost's sudden fascination with her face. She was trying not to look at him because if she looked over she knew she would only see him staring.

Soap plucked a box out of his pocket. "Want a cigarette?" She paused. She had never smoked before. Why not. She took it out of his hand, placing it in her mouth.

But before she could light it, Ghost, who sat across from them, acted swiftly.

"Get that shit out of your mouth," Ghost muttered, flicking the cigarette out of her mouth with a speed that caught her by surprise.

Soap let out an exasperated scoff. "What a waste of a good cig," he muttered, lighting one of his own and placing it between his lips.

Suddenly, he gasped. "Oh fuck."

Althea furrowed her brows, immediately starting to worry. Was the boat sinking? Would they get stranded out in the ocean? Ghost also turned to him.

"I left my Nintendo at the base."

This prompted Ghost to groan loudly, at the same time Althea sighed in relief. The boat wasn't sinking.

"Why the hell would you need that?"

Soap grinned sheepishly. "I'm bored."

"You're a fucking idiot Johnny."

As they bickered, Althea leaned against the side of the boat, her face turning a shade paler. She tried to focus on the horizon, anything to keep her mind off the churning sea. But it was difficult, and Ghost's presence, so close yet frustratingly distant, made it even harder.

He couldn't help but notice her discomfort, the way her face contorted with each roll of the waves. A battle raged within him. Part of him wanted to keep his distance, to avoid getting entangled in her problems. But another part, a part he couldn't quite suppress, wanted to help, to ease her suffering.

With a soft groan, Ghost finally gave in to that nagging impulse. He unzipped the outermost layer of his jacket, the rain blocker, and extended it toward her. "Here," he muttered, his voice gruff. "Put this on. It might help with the rain."

Althea tried to refuse the offer, pride warring with her discomfort.

"Oh, no. You'll get cold! I'm fine anyways."

But Ghost just dangled it in front of her face, continuing to insist, his determined expression leaving her no choice. "Just put on the goddamn jacket."

She slipped into the oversized jacket, feeling like she was buried in a mountain of blankets. It was strangely comforting, and the scent of gunpowder and leather that clung to the jacket was oddly soothing.

As the rain splattered against the boat and the waves continued their relentless dance, Althea found herself leaning into the warmth of the jacket. The rainblocker cocooned her, shielding her from the elements, and his warmth seeped through the layers. She closed her eyes, her queasiness momentarily forgotten, and allowed herself to drift off to sleep, the rhythmic rocking of the boat lulling her into a fitful slumber.