I turn around and head back to my room to deposit the champagne flutes and the bubbly before I fire a quick text to Grace.
Where’d you go, Houdini?
As I wait for her reply, I tear open the envelope and scan the document until I locate Barun’s cell number. I punch it into my phone because if I’m going to keep up with Grace, I can’t guarantee that I’ll remember to do it later. As I’m holding it, her reply pops up on the screen.
Omg. This place is amazing.
I type back.
Wouldn’t know. Looking at my room, which is amazing but only 1/1000000 of the actual ship. Where are you?
The prom. Meet me?
The prom? Should I bust out the powder blue tux and the hairspray?
Stupid autocorrect she types back The promenade. Deck 5. Meet me?
I love how she asks, as if I would ever deny her. I tell her I’ll be right there and search through the documents for a map of this place. I can figure out how to get to deck 5 but if she wants to do some onboard sightseeing, we will need it. Sure enough, a map is included in my welcome package and I fold it and place it in my pocket for safekeeping. I immediately decide to add the itinerary, curious to see what it contains if I get a few minutes. With a final sweep of my new sleeping quarters, I lock the door behind me.
The elevator is a good five minute hike from the staterooms which makes me question how she disappeared so bloody fast. When the doors slide open, a tall raven-haired girl is standing behind them, her pointer finger grasped between her front teeth. When I step inside, the corners of her mouth turn upward into a smirk.
She takes her hand out of her mouth and extends it. “Chester See.”
Girl trying to share slobber ladened fingertips with me. I sidestep, hit deck 5, ‘Promenade’ and give a friendly wave in an effort to avoid the unwanted exchange of bodily fluids.
Her hand falls to her side. “I’m a big fan.”
I nod. “Than—”
Before I can finish voicing my gratitude, she cuts me off, “of Grace. Do you know where she is? She’s the whole reason I came on this cruise.”
Spittle girl just got creepier.
I cast a glance at the buttons on the elevator. She’s going to deck 13, marked ‘Lagoon.’ I shrug nonchalantly. “No idea, actually, but if you see her can you tell her I’m looking for her?”
The elevator promptly stops at deck 5 and so help me God, if the doors open to reveal Grace, I’m going to go all Tom Cruise, get my girl, and make a run for it. I don’t have to worry though, the area in front of me is vast and spotting Grace is going to be like finding a needle in a haystack.
“Have a nice afternoon,” I say.
“You too,” she mutters.
I walk into a floating city. To my left, there’s a martini bar called Shaken Not Stirred to my right, a restaurant I’m entirely underdressed for and in front of me, whoa. The makeshift streets are lined with shops and stores and bars. There’s even a theater, which I can only imagine puts on some pretty spectacular shows at nighttime.
Toward the middle of the deck is an indoor garden, filled with lush, tropical plants and a small water feature. That’s where I find Grace, sitting on a bench, sipping a pink slushy drink with an umbrella sticking out of the top. I flop down beside her, glad to finally be in her company again.
“You’re a hard girl to keep tabs on.”
“Hey Chester.”
“What’s your hurry? We were in our rooms for less than ten minutes.”
“Ten minutes wasted,” Grace says. “I’d rather be here than some tiny room.” She sweeps her arm out in front of her. “Look at all of the flowers.”
I do. “They’re beautiful.”
“What’s your favourite flower?” she asks.
“I dunno. I’m a guy.”
“I know but if you had to pick one, what would it be?”
“Birds of paradise,” I say. “They were in my parents yard growing up. I always thought they were odd but nice.” It’s the best I can give her. I don’t do flowers. “What’s yours?”
She sighs. “Sunflowers.”
Somehow this doesn’t surprise me. Grace is like the sun, bright and warm. Sunflowers were made for her.
“Sunflowers, huh?”
“Yeah,” she says. “I’ve never received any, like as a gift before. Men always seem to head to the roses,” she pauses, the faintest crease in her brow, “why do you think that is?”
I mentally jot down that I need to get Grace her sunflowers before answering. “I’m not sure. The cliche, I suppose.”
“Just once, I’d like to get a bouquet of sunflowers, you know?”
“Sure,” I say. “Makes sense.”
“Is it too much to ask for?”
“Nope.” She seems satisfied enough with my answer to stop pondering the details of flower-giving. I remove the folded papers from my pocket. “Hey, I got my itinerary.”
She straightens her shoulders. “What’s it say?”
“Not sure, I was going to go over it with you before you pulled the disappearing act.”
“Oh! Read it.”
As I’m unfolding the papers, a man dressed in full on uniform walks by. She drinks her pink slush through her straw, her eyes fixated on his movements. Her head moves almost imperceptibly from the right to the left as she follows the direction he’s walking. “So a ship Captain is the same as a pilot only in a nautical sense?”
“Yep.” I rub the papers across my leg to try and remove their creases.
“He could anchor himself to me any day,” she muses.
“And I just threw up in my mouth a little,” I say.
She frowns.
“Grace, I could have lived every day for the rest of my life without hearing you say that. In fact aside from the words, ‘it’s bad news, you’re dying’ that’s the last thing I want to hear.”
“I’m just being honest.”
I wave the paperwork across her line of sight to break the trance brought on by the man in uniform. “Itinerary.”
“Right,” she says, returning her attention to me. “Go.”
“Tonight there is a welcome gala on deck 4. Formal dress.”
She grins. “I love dressing up.”
“Day two. At sea. Day three, also at sea.”
“Are we at sea the whole time? What are we supposed to do?”
I wave my hands around. “I bet you could stay on this boat and never leave and still not be able to see all of it. It’s like the Louvre. Besides, if you don’t think they have things planned for us, think again.” I return to reading. “Day four. Puerto Vallarta. Set sail in the old seas on a Pirate Ship. On board the wooden boat, you’ll learn a little history, eat a pirate-style dinner and watch an impressive sword show between rivals.”
She snatches the paper, “What? Really? That sounds awesome.”
“No kidding.”
Grace continues reading down the list. “Day five. Mazatlan. We’re going to Stone Island with fans. Day six. The ship docks in Cabo San Lucas and you and me get to learn to make and taste salsa, served with margaritas and then dance salsa. Day seven at sea. Day eight, we’re back.” The smile on her face widens as she points to the page. “That right there, is paradise.” She powers up her camera and aims the lens at the paper. “Par-a-dise.”
Her camera is on me now so I put my frontman face on and belt out the lyrics, “ohh baby do you know what that’s worth? Ooh heaven is a place on earth.”
Grace giggles. “I love that song! You should do a cover.”
“Maybe. C’mon, let’s go exploring.”
We spend hours on deck 5, hitting all the shops. Grace buys more clothes while I resist the urge to comment that I’m going to break my back carting her luggage home. It doesn’t matter. She’s happy, totally hamming it up for my camera. This is going to be some good footage for both of our channels and I couldn’t think of any better way to spend the afternoon than here, with her.
Around 4:00 o’clock, she suggests we head back to our rooms to get ready for the welcome reception. I wonder if we’re going to run into raven spittle-girl on our way back, even more so, I wonder if I should tell Grace about her. I choose not to, figuring she will find out soon enough about her not so secret admirer.
We take the elevators to our deck and when I deliver her to her door a few feet from my own, I say. “Will you be ready in an hour?”
“One hour,” she echoes. “I’ll be waiting.”
In my own room, I discover a tux hanging from a hook on the wall, freshly pressed with a note from Barun.
‘For you to look your best, Mr. Chester.’
I’m going to have to tip that guy well.
Since it’s going to take me all of fifteen minutes to get ready, I use the opportunity to dive into a book and try and ignore the fact that Grace is probably naked in the shower next door. The more I try to read, the more my mind runs wild with flashes of her. Seriously. It’s bad. Really bad. Spittle girl and I are the same. The two of us could spearhead efforts to form a Grace Helbig secret admirer club. My advantage is, I know Grace and it’s a conscious decision to keep my hopes for a relationship with her a secret…until now.
My phone chimes, indicating 45 minutes has passed. I indulge in a quick shower, run some product through my hair, shave, and spritz on some cologne.
I get the pants and the shirt on, put my watch around my wrist and slip the cufflinks through the holes in the sleeves of the button up before finishing the look with the jacket. As soon as I do, I want to hire Barun on a full time retainer as my personal assistant. This suit is tailored to fit my body.
I have a quick glance at my reflection one more time.
Barun, you’re a genius, my friend.
I rap my knuckles on the door to Grace’s stateroom.
“Come in,” her voice beckons.
I turn the handle, not sure what to expect but when I swing it open, it doesn’t matter. The highest expectations couldn’t have dreamed this up.
Grace is standing before me, dressed in a floor length, strapless red gown. I know it’s a sweetheart neckline courtesy of an ex-girlfriend of mine who was borderline obsessed with this wedding dress reality show. The soft curve of Grace’s shoulder is partially covered in waves of her blonde hair. I stand there, dumbstruck for a full minute before I find my words.
“You look beautiful.” Beautiful isn’t the right word. Stunning. Gorgeous. Breathtaking. Enchanting.
She full on smiles and the way it lights up her entire face—it’s perfection. “You’re looking pretty hot yourself, Mr. Chester.”
“Huh?”
She points to the small note, still secured with a safety pin on my lapel before removing it, crumpling the paper and tossing it in the trash.
Stellar move, See.
“You do look your best,” she says. “You’re so damned sexy, Chester.”
The space between us shrinks and I gulp at the air.
“Can you do up my necklace?” She holds out a small, gold chain with a teardrop diamond on it.
I take it from her outstretched hand, hoping she doesn’t notice mine shaking. She spins, awarding me with a view of the nape of her neck and the curve of her shoulders. I never thought much about necks or shoulders, about how they are equally gorgeous, yet often unappreciated spots on a woman’s body until I met Grace. I’ll never see them the same way again.
It takes a few attempts before I manage to secure the latch and I have to stop myself from reaching out to touch her skin. Before I make an ass out of myself, I drop my hands to my sides and clench them into fists. “All done.”
She turns around, looping her arm around my back and pushing me forward until we are side by side, looking in the mirror.
Grace wrinkles her nose and says, “I feel like we’re in the movie Pretty Woman. Only you’re not a grey haired fox billionaire and I’m not a prostitute.”
I laugh and she does too before moving her arm from it’s spot behind my back. I square my elbow and hold it out to her. She slips her arm through mine. “Ready, Mr. Chester?”
Ready as I’ll ever be. I nod.
I felt like a million bucks before I left my room, now, with Grace at my side, I feel priceless.
***
Grace is as tall as I am, maybe taller in her heels. Walking through the cruise ship with her on my arm makes me feel like I’ve won some kind of lottery. She’s beautiful, no question, but she’s also smart, witty, funny, and confident. I wouldn’t change a single thing about her.
She’s uncharacteristically quiet while we walk. I would give anything to know what thoughts are circling around inside her head.
When we get to the restaurant, I understand the attire.
There are plush velvet chairs, seats of two and four with round tables between them. Each table is decorated with a candle and a rose.
Grace points. “See! Again with the roses. I swear, roses are the attention whores of flowers.”
A maître d stands tall as a soldier at the entry. Grace takes charge and steps forward, flashing him a smile. “Grace Helbig and Chester See.”
His eyes cast down for a fraction of a second before darting back up. “Of course. Louis will show you to your table.”
A skinny man, dressed in a tux grabs two paper menus. “Right this way.”
I motion for Grace to go ahead. As I follow behind, I take in our surroundings. There’s a very large grand piano in one corner of the restaurant, an elegant bar in the middle, peppered by the small dressed tables.
I’m surprised when Louis stops in front of one of the tables set for four, I’d been expecting a duo, but before he gets the chance, I pull out Grace’s chair for her.
She sits and Louis quickly snaps the linen napkin before draping it on her lap and setting the menus down on the table. “It’s a fixed menu this evening,” he informs us. “Your waiter will be out shortly to take your order. You’ll eat and then be escorted into one of our ballrooms for the reception.”
Grace’s eyes widen in delight. “Thanks Lou.”
Louis offers a tight smile while I sit across from Grace.
When he leaves, I decide this is it. This is the time. I just need a drink first.
Ask and you’ll receive. Moments later, a third man dressed to kill appears at our table. “I’m Joshua. Can I start by getting you a drink?”
“Wine, please,” Grace and I say in unison.
He points to a smaller brochure sized piece of paper, “There’s our wine list.”
She looks at me. “Red.” I love that as independent as Grace is, she’s willing to let me choose our wine.
I select a cabernet from Italy and watch as Louis disappears.
Wine is on its way.
No time like the present.
“Grace?”
“Yeah?”
“There’s something I’ve wanted to talk to you about for a while.”
“Really? Is it my new vlog schedule because I wasn’t sure if—”
“It’s not about your vlog.”
She relaxes into the plush chair, looking a little bewildered. “What is it then?”
I clear my throat and inhale sharply. My words better not decide to vacate the premises now. “Like I said, I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a while now but it never seemed to be the right time.”
Her hand flitters to her necklace while her features darken with concern. “Is everything alright?”
“Yeah,” I say, “everything is fine. It’s just that,” I pause, “when we were filming Side Effects—”
Before I get a chance to utter another word, Joshua returns with the bottle of wine and two people standing beside him.
“This is Brandy and Luke,” he says. “They’ll be your dining companions for the evening.”
You’ve got to be kidding me. This restaurant easily seats 500 people and they need to cram Brandy and Luke in with us. Grace welcomes them, saying something about the more the merrier. I can’t say I agree, so I blink, unable to believe my luck, or lack thereof. As they sit, Joshua pours the wine and Grace leans forward. “Tell me later?”
I give a grim, resigned nod. “Yeah. Later.”
Camera: ON
“Captains log. Sea Date One Zero Zero. On the ship. Spent the afternoon following Grace around the shops. Learned that she loves sunflowers which prompts a determination from yours truly to make sure she gets some. I was about to tell her when we were interrupted by the waiter bearing gifts of wine and humans. It’ll have to wait.”
Camera: OFF
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