Rock the Boat Read online

  Rock the Boat

  Copyright © 2016 by Gia Riley

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded, or distributed via the Internet without the publisher’s permission and is in violation of the International copyright law.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Cover designer:

  Sommer Stein, Perfect Pear Creative

  Interior design and formatting:

  Christine Borgford, Perfectly Publishable

  Table of Contents

  Rock the Boat

  Dedication

  Playlist

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty—Four

  Chapter Twenty- Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Epilogue

  About The Author

  Other work by Gia Riley

  Acknowledgements

  To being in the right place at the right time.

  To taking chances.

  To soul mates.

  No matter how you meet or where you’re at in life, love will find you when you’re ready—often when you least expect it. Welcome it. Cherish it. And most importantly, feel it.

  May you all find your own moment of serendipity.

  Just Hold Me—Maria Mena

  Broken Pieces—Apocalyptia, Lacey

  Closer To The Edge: Thirty Seconds To Mars

  Never Be The Same—Red

  Never Stop—Safetysuit

  Give You Heart Away—Ella Henderson

  Picture Perfect—Escape The Fate

  Take It All—Adele

  Moon Shines Red—Jamie McDell

  You Changed Me—Michael Warren

  Running Away—Midnight Hour

  Whiskey Lullabies—Janet Devlin

  Without You—Hinder

  Stars—Grace Potter & The Nocturnals

  Heartbreak Story—The Wanted

  Set Me On Fire—Bella Ferraro

  Say You Love Me—Jessie Ware

  How You Love Me—Acoustic—3LAU, Bright Lights

  We Fall Apart—We As Human

  Congratulations—Rachel Platten

  Beam Me Up—Pink

  Light On—David Cook

  My Heart I Surrender—I Prevail

  Just A Fool—Christina Aguilera, Blake Shelton

  Here’s To The Heartache—Nothing More

  Question One:

  Which word best describes what you’re looking for in a partner?

  Sense of humor

  Adventure

  Loyalty

  Trust

  Passion

  Other

  “Does ‘other’ mean he can keep his pants up?” I ask Noelle, as she intently answers each question on this ridiculous questionnaire. It came in the mail with the rest of our cruise documents.

  She lifts her head, rolling her eyes at my hesitation to jump head first into the possibility of meeting my perfect match. She’s the type that writes with her face two inches away from the paper with her tongue sticking out as she concentrates. I don’t know how she doesn’t go cross-eyed. Still, she answers me honestly, like she’s actually taking my question seriously. Then again, why wouldn’t she? She’s a firm believer in the magical serendipity of soul mates, and she’s on a mission to find both of ours in the same week. “You would choose letter C or D for that.”

  “I think I’m still picking ‘other.’”

  “Why can’t you have fun with this, Lark? You just started the quiz and you’re already hung up on the first question. Relax a little. You’ll get better results.” I don’t miss the hurt in her voice as she responds. She wants nothing more than to have her best friend back—the carefree one who used to love a little adventure. But I haven’t been that girl in two months.

  The old me was so blissfully happy, I was blinded by love. And then, before I knew what hit me, it smacked me across the face like the oblivious fool I was. “Why can’t we use a dating website instead of dragging ourselves on some random singles cruise? If I couldn’t hang onto my dream guy on dry land, what makes you think it will be any different in the middle of the Caribbean?”

  With a defeated sigh, she says, “I promise it’ll be worth your while. Have I ever let you down before?”

  “No.” She’s been like a sister to me, especially after my world fell apart.

  “Then answer the questions. You’ll thank me when it works out exactly the way it’s supposed to.”

  I want to tell her she’s not capable of predicting the future. That no matter how hard she tries to place the pieces in a row so they interlock perfectly, there are no guarantees when it comes to love. It’s evil, twisted, and out of control. In fact, I should crumple this test up and toss it in the trashcan where it belongs before I get hurt again. I gave one hundred percent of my mind, body, and soul to my last relationship, yet here I am, sitting in my living room as single as can be.

  Noelle stands up, collecting the paint swatches and carpet samples from the coffee table, tossing it all in the trash. She even grabs the bridal magazine I have stashed at the bottom of the pile. “Stop torturing yourself. The dream you had with Grant is over, but that doesn’t mean you can’t create a new one with someone else. Maybe with all these little reminders gone, you’ll have a real chance.”

  “I’ve tried throwing it all away, but then I feel guilty.”

  “Grant’s the only one who should feel guilt, Lark. You know that as much as I do, even if it’s hard to admit. Now, less thinking and more writing,” she encourages.

  So, I do what any sane woman in my shoes would do. I pick up my number two pencil and take the first step toward moving on—I read question number two.

  Question Two

  Choose your perfect first date?

  Dinner

  Walk on the beach

  Movie

  Dancing

  Stroll in the park

  Drinks

  Concert

  Opera

  Other

  “Do people really go to the opera? I don’t think we even have an opera in this town or any other within a hundred mile radius. Which means going to one would be a commitment and not a date.”

  Noelle sets her pencil down, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath in through her nose and out through her mouth. She’s completely annoyed with me. Without even opening her eyes, she says, “You promised you would go on this cruise with me. You’ve told me a million times it’s time I found someone to spend my life with. This is how I’m choosing to do that, and I would really appreciate it if you could take your own advice and finish this damn test.”

  I flinch because I’m honestly not trying to be
difficult this time. It’s a valid question, or so I thought. “I’m sorry, but you have to admit it’s a ridiculous option.”

  “You weren’t going to pick it anyway, so it doesn’t matter if it’s there or not.”

  “True. I picked ‘other’ again.”

  “Since when don’t you like to eat, watch movies, or drink? They’re all on there.”

  I did all those things with Grant. Once a week, he would take me to a nice restaurant, usually one that was more than he could afford. When I would tell him we could go some place cheaper, he insisted on only the best for his girl. It made me feel cherished.

  Whenever a new movie came out he knew I wanted to see, even if it was a chick-flick, he would get us tickets. When I told him he didn’t have to suffer through another movie he wasn’t into, he went anyway. It made me feel special.

  But our favorite was meeting after work for happy hour at the little hole in the wall pub around the corner from my apartment. The food wasn’t that great, the floors were usually a little sticky, but the beer was plentiful and it was close enough we could drink however much we wanted and walk home. That made me feel free.

  I realize now he didn’t do all those things because he loved me, he did them because he felt guilty.

  “All I want is a week away to relax and get a tan. That’s why I’m going on this trip. I’ll meet whoever they pair me up with. I’ll play by all the rules, but it won’t change how I feel. I gave my heart away—and it got torn into a billion pieces. The last thing I want to do is fall for some guy who has the potential to do it all over again.”

  Noelle flops on the couch as she slings her arm over her face. “Can you at least agree to fuck’em and chuck’em?”

  I laugh because that was our motto in college. The same motto that backfired, leaving me hopelessly in love and forever changed. “It’s been two months. I think I’m allowed to take a little more time before I even consider another guy—if I ever do. As far as I’m concerned, he’s going to have to be pretty spectacular to even consider giving him a second glance, but for this trip, I’ll revisit the motto. Unless he’s hideous. If he is, all bets are off.”

  Noelle sits up on the couch and moves closer to me. “You fell in love once and you’ll do it again. If you’re lucky, he’ll be on this ship waiting for you when you get on. If not, at least you got laid.”

  I highly doubt it, but I pick up my glass, holding it in the air for a toast. “To getting laid in paradise.”

  Noelle raises her glass, smiling from ear to ear. “To finding Mr. Right or Mr. Close Enough.”

  Once we stop laughing, I pick up my test packet, looking at it in a new light. “Tell me more about this test.”

  “Everyone completes the same test before they get on the ship. They’ll match us up with our most compatible person, and we’ll get to meet them the first night. The rest is up to us.”

  “What if we hate our match?”

  “There’s no way that’s going to happen. Based on your answers, it’ll be someone who wants what you want. Someone who likes the same things you do. Which is why you should be picking actual answers instead of some broad response.”

  She does have a point. If I don’t get specific, or take it seriously, I could end up with someone I can’t stand. “Maybe you’re right.”

  “I usually am. Sometimes it takes you a little longer to realize it, but eventually you see the light. I refuse to give up on you, Lark. I really think this test is the beginning of our forever.”

  It would be nice now that the forever I’ve spent years building is gone. Grant was busy making his wildest fantasies come true, none of which included me. I was the one who thought we weren’t even ready to move in together, but when he talked about how he wanted to fall asleep with me in his arms every single night, without having to bounce back and forth between our two apartments, I couldn’t argue. I wanted that, too. But the night before we were supposed to move him into my place, it all came crashing down.

  The night I became a cynical, brokenhearted mess.

  Knowing Grant’s spending his Friday night packing instead of slinging back a couple beers with his friends like he does most Friday nights, I hurry to his place after work to surprise him with his favorite take-out. I wasn’t supposed to be home from my work conference until morning, but I skipped out on the mixer tonight and caught an earlier train home. I felt guilty sipping on champagne while he’s nose deep in boxes.

  My surprise becomes that much easier when I find his front door unlocked. I sneak inside his apartment, setting the bag of food on the kitchen counter. His kitchen table is already littered with empty Chinese take-out containers. It’s odd considering he doesn’t even like Chinese food.

  It gets even stranger when I hear music coming from his bedroom when I know for a fact there’s nothing left inside his room. He already moved his bed into the spare bedroom at my apartment. I helped pack all his clothes and took a handful of shirts to the cleaners before I left town. But without a doubt, he’s in his empty room when the thumping of the bass hits me low in the gut each time it pulses.

  Pushing the door open slowly so I don’t scare him, I realize the bass isn’t the only thing pumping. I stand shell-shocked in the middle of the hallway, watching as the guy I love pounds himself into some girl while her five inch stilettos are wrapped around his waist, digging into his skin. I cover my mouth with my hands, staring at the scene in front of me in utter disbelief. My boyfriend is banging someone against the wall.

  Like she can hear my thoughts, her eyes slowly open, realizing they’re no longer alone. Part of me wants to run away before Grant sees me, but I can’t get my mind and body to cooperate enough to move even an inch from where I’m standing. “Did you invite someone to join us tonight, Grant?” she practically moans in between thrusts. “It’s been awhile since we played.”

  “Not tonight—I don’t want to share you. Sometimes, I need all the attention.” He doesn’t let up even as he answers her question, his response making me feel even sicker, especially considering he’s still completely focused on their joined bodies.

  This isn’t a one-time deal for them. My mind filters through all the times we’ve been together, none of which were like this. How could I be so in love with someone hiding such vile secrets? What scares me even more is how well he hid it from me.

  “Then who’s she?” the skank asks, tilting her head in my direction.

  Grant looks over his shoulder, and once he spots me, he pulls out of her, letting her fall into a heap on the floor. I turn to run away, but he’s grabbing my arm before I can even think about moving my feet. “Lark, wait. This isn’t what it looks like.”

  “What is it then?” My entire body shakes as adrenaline consumes me. There’s no pain. There’s no sadness or fear—not even rage. I’m completely numb. This only happens in the movies. It doesn’t happen to normal people like us.

  “I fucked up. I’m sorry.”

  “If I had to guess, I’d say you’re only sorry you got caught.” He reaches for my hand, running his thumb over the ring he gave me on our last anniversary. He swore the next one he put on my finger would be my engagement ring. I believed him.

  “Lark, this isn’t me. You know me. You know I love you.”

  I shake my head because the guy standing in front of me isn’t the same one I’ve been planning on spending the rest of my life with. He’s not my college boyfriend and he won’t be my future husband either. He’s moments away from becoming my past.

  Before I can tell him we’re over, that any amount of begging isn’t going to save him, his girl is peeling herself off the floor, completely naked. Most girls would find something to cover up with, but not this one. She stands behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and raking her red nails across his chest. All I can do is stand and watch in complete shock. “Is this who you’re with when you’re not with me?”

  He drops his head, but he doesn’t try to remove her hands from his body. He lets her to
uch him, and I realize he might care about both of us. Even though he let her fall to the floor when he saw me, she gives him what I clearly haven’t been able to. She satisfies something I’ll never understand.

  “Grant, baby. If she’s not going to play, tell her to leave,” she whines, slithering around his body, and kneeling next to him.

  He watches her the entire time, and I don’t miss the flare in his eyes as she waits for him. They have a connection. An actual connection that may mean more to him than ours—and it breaks my heart all over again.

  “Pick your shit up at my house tomorrow or I’m throwing it all away.”

  “Lark, please let me explain.”

  “No. Get your stuff out of my apartment. I never want to see you again.” I run toward the front door. He chases after me, only he can’t even make it to the elevator because he’s still completely naked.

  “I love you, Lark. Don’t do this.”

  “You already did it. Actually, you were still doing it when I got here.” The elevator doors close as the first tear trickles down my cheek. The first sign that the numbness is receding. Sadness slowly creeps in, taking its place, as reality crashes like a storm around me.

  We’re over.

  Grant has been living two lives—one he shared with me, and the darker version he indulged in when I wasn’t around. And now, I have nothing to show for all the years I invested with him. I’m twenty-seven years old and I’m still searching for the one.

  “You’re thinking about Grant again, aren’t you?” Noelle asks, as she places another one of her famous margaritas in front of me. They’re always heavy on the tequila and light on the mix.

  “Yes.” She’s always been able to read me better than anyone, so I don’t bother trying to deny it. Part of moving on is coming to terms with what you’ve lost. The truth may be easier to process as time passes, but it doesn’t make letting go any easier. Part of me will always carry a piece of Grant with me.

  I’m still hurting inside.

  I still miss Grant.

  I still miss being in love.

  “Come on, Lark. You can do this. Worse comes to worst, you meet someone you’re compatible with for some smokin’ hot sex while you recharge your batteries and have a little fun. Does that sound so bad?”