TEN
1473 Words
The steam from the shower still clung to the air as they stood there, catching their breath. Lila’s heart raced in tandem with the water dripping from her skin. Nigel’s hands remained on her waist, steadying her as the aftershocks of their intimacy lingered.
She blinked up at him, her lips curving into the faintest of smiles. For a moment, the only sound was the soft patter of water hitting the tiles. But then it hit her—a nauseating churn in her stomach that came on without warning.
Her eyes widened. “Nigel, put me down,” she blurted out, her voice sharp with urgency.
Nigel reacted instantly, his hands loosening their hold as he gently set her back on her feet. “What’s wrong—”
“I’m gonna throw up!” she exclaimed, quickly stumbling out of the shower area.
Nigel followed her without hesitation, grabbing a towel on his way. Lila made it to the toilet just in time, clutching the edge of the porcelain as her body betrayed her. The sound of retching echoed in the small bathroom, and Nigel crouched behind her, completely unbothered by the situation.
“Here,” he said softly, draping the towel over her bare shoulders. One hand gathered her damp hair, holding it back from her face, while the other rubbed slow, soothing circles on her back.
“Thanks,” Lila mumbled weakly, her voice muffled by her own misery.
“Take your time,” he replied, his voice calm and steady.
Another wave of nausea hit, and she leaned over the toilet again, her body heaving as she emptied the remnants of her disastrous night of drinking. Nigel didn’t flinch, staying by her side through it all, his touch steady and reassuring.
When the worst of it passed, Lila sat back on her heels, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She felt utterly drained, but relief was already beginning to replace the nausea.
“Well,” she croaked, her voice hoarse from the ordeal. “That was attractive.”
Nigel chuckled softly, his hand still resting on her back. “I don’t think I’ve ever been part of such a romantic post-shower moment.”
She shot him a glare but couldn’t keep it up for long. The absurdity of the situation began to sink in, and a laugh bubbled out of her. It started small, just a faint chuckle, but soon it grew, her shoulders shaking as she gave in to the ridiculousness of it all.
Nigel laughed too, his deep, rich voice filling the space. “You’re definitely one of a kind, Lila,” he teased, shaking his head as he handed her another towel.
She took it, dabbing at her face as she leaned back against the bathroom wall. “You’re surprisingly good at this whole holding-hair-back-while-I-puke thing. Is this part of your charm, or am I just special?”
“Oh, you’re special,” he said with mock seriousness, offering her a bottle of water from the counter. “Very few people get this level of VIP treatment.”
She took the bottle gratefully, sipping it as her laughter subsided. The room fell quiet again, but this time the silence was comfortable.
Nigel leaned back on his heels, his gaze soft as he watched her recover. “Feeling better?”
“Yeah,” she replied, her voice steadier now. “Thanks for... everything.”
He smirked, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’m adding ‘excellent puke assistant’ to my resume.”
Lila rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress her grin. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet, you’d be lost without me,” he quipped, rising to his feet.
She laughed again, shaking her head as she let him pull her up.
~~
Wrapped snugly in a thick blanket, Lila leaned against the headboard, her head propped on a pillow. The gentle hum of the ship’s engines was a soothing background noise, and the remnants of a light breakfast tray sat on the bedside table. She felt drained—emotionally and physically—every muscle in her body begging for a day of stillness.
Nigel sat at the edge of the bed, scrolling lazily through his phone. His hair was still slightly damp from the shower, falling haphazardly across his forehead. The easy silence between them was interrupted when he spoke, his voice light.
“So, what’s the plan for today?” He glanced at her over the screen, his brow arched.
Lila groaned, burying her face into the blanket for a moment before turning her head to look at him. “I have no plan,” she admitted, her voice muffled. “No vengeful plots or carefully orchestrated schemes. Just this bed.”
Nigel smirked, setting his phone aside. “Not exactly the fierce, scorned ex-girlfriend act I was expecting.”
She rolled her eyes, though the exhaustion in her gaze softened the gesture. “I’m too tired to be angry today. Too tired to even be petty. So, unless you’re going to play some dramatic revenge games on my behalf, I’m staying right here.”
He leaned back on his hands, a playful glint in his eye. “You’re telling me I have a free pass to plot and execute all kinds of mischief while you lounge around like a queen? Tempting, but I think I’ll pass.”
“Good choice,” she murmured, pulling the blanket tighter around herself.
Nigel stood and began clearing away the breakfast tray, his movements casual. “You know,” he said as he stacked plates, “I’m not entirely opposed to a lazy day. We’ve earned it after last night’s... adventures.”
Her lips twitched at the memory—if only for a brief second. She watched him move with surprising ease for someone she’d pegged as just another spoiled celebrity. He didn’t seem at all like the type to lounge around in bed or make small talk about mundane topics, but here he was, indulging her whims without complaint.
Settling back into his spot, he stretched out his long legs and leaned against the headboard, his shoulder brushing hers. “Since we’re apparently doing nothing, entertain me,” he said, his voice teasing. “Tell me more about you. The real you, not the fire-breathing Lila.”
She chuckled, shaking her head. “There’s not much to tell. I’m a tattoo artist. Cynical about life. End of story.”
He tilted his head, studying her. “Tattoo artist, huh? That’s a hell of a lot more interesting than most people I meet.”
Lila arched a brow. “You don’t meet many interesting people in Hollywood?”
“Oh, I do,” he said with a smirk. “But most of them are... curated. You? You seem pretty authentic.”
She wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so she settled for a shrug. “It’s a job. I’m good at it. That’s all there is to it.”
He didn’t buy her dismissive tone. “What’s the wildest tattoo you’ve ever done?”
Her lips quirked at the memory of one particularly strange client. “There was this guy who wanted a flamingo wearing sunglasses tattooed on his inner thigh. He said it symbolized his ‘chill yet fiery nature.’”
Nigel burst out laughing, his head falling back against the headboard. “And you actually did it?”
“Of course,” she said with a smirk. “I’m not here to judge anyone’s weird life choices—except when they involve bad ink.”
His laughter died down, replaced by a thoughtful expression. “Maybe I should get something done. A tattoo to commemorate this wild cruise.”
“Yeah?” she said, intrigued. “And what would you get?”
“Hmm.” He tapped his chin as if pondering deeply. “A tiny caricature of you, standing victoriously over a broken heart. Something tasteful, obviously.”
Lila snorted. “Tasteful? Sure. That’s definitely the word for that.”
He grinned at her reaction. “Alright, maybe not that. But if I ever find the time after this cruise, I might come to you for something real. Something meaningful.”
She blinked at him, surprised that he even wanted to see her after the cruise. “I’m holding you to that,” she said after a pause.
“Deal.” He extended his hand as if sealing the promise, and she shook it with a roll of her eyes.
For a moment, the conversation lulled, the quiet between them comfortable once more. Nigel returned to scrolling through his phone, while Lila sank deeper into the warmth of the blanket. She allowed herself to let go of the tension she usually carried, grateful for the reprieve, however temporary it might be.
- Writer
