Britt Belladonna, a workaholic employed at a cruise company, is sent on a rival company’s cruise to dig up dirt on the competition. It seems like an easy enough assignment: go on the cruise, figure out why this company is drawing in more customers than the cruise line she works for, and create an amazing report that will earn her a promotion.
While on the cruise, however, she learns it’s for singles and everyone on board is looking for love. As a single businesswoman, she has no desire to engage in any romantic endeavors. But her roommate Jamie Lyonne, a total slacker Britt had the displeasure of meeting in college, has a different idea. Jamie wants to experience everything the cruise has to offer, and drags Britt through all the different excursions. Water parks, ziplining, snorkeling ... Jamie wants to do everything, and Britt goes along with it under the guise of secret research.
Soon the lines blur between what’s strictly business and what’s for pleasure. Jamie’s bright personality starts to melt Britt’s walls, and Britt begins to fall for her frustratingly easygoing roommate. Is it worth it for Britt to turn away from everything she’s ever known and take a chance with Jamie? Or should she continue her workaholic ways and let her feelings for Jamie fall by the wayside?
There isn’t a luggage rack, so I’ll just slide my suitcase beneath the bed for more room. As I’m doing just that, I hear the door click, as if someone is unlocking it.
Weird.
Then someone does open the door, and I freeze, one hand on my suitcase and the other balancing on the bed. I turn slowly, facing the girl in the doorway.
Christ. Is that who I think it is?
She stumbles into the room, giant suitcase in tow, also holding a rose and champagne flute. She appears just as surprised to see me, but I don’t notice any recognition behind her eyes, and that annoys me greatly.
How does she not recognize me? I’d know her anywhere, with her long dark hair and dewy green eyes. Her cupid’s bow lips and high cheekbones.
Honestly, she’d be very attractive if she wasn’t so damn lazy.
“Hi,” she says, a confused lilt in her voice. “I guess you’re my roommate? Why is there only one bed?”
I look at the bed and then look at her. “There’s only one bed because this is a single, and you’re in the wrong room,” I say.
She blinks, and then opens the door. After running her finger along the gold numbers drilled onto the face of the door, she says, “It’s 1122. That’s my room. Maybe you’re in the wrong one?”
“No,” I say, annoyance creeping into my words. “I’m definitely in the right room.”
“Oh,” she says. “Well, I guess we can take turns sleeping on the couch. That’s big enough, right? I mean, the queen would probably be a little too cramped, and this queen needs space to stretch.” As if to emphasize her point, she stretches her arms out wide.
“What?”
“Oh, never mind,” she says. “It was just a joke.”
I notice that I’m still bent over my suitcase, so I straighten. Bending over rumpled my pants suit, so I smooth it out and fully face this intruder.
“I’m Jamie,” she says, holding her hand out.
I don’t see the point in pretending like I don’t know her, so I say, “I know who you are.”
She seems taken aback, even going so far as pulling her hand back. “You what?” she whispers, evidently horrified. “Oh, God, my brother told you about me, didn’t he? He set this whole cruise up, so of course he would seek out a roommate for me.”
“I have no idea who your brother is,” I say.
“Joel.”
“Correction, I don’t care who your brother is,” I continue. “I know you from university. Sociology 101 at Florida, spring 2018.”
“I took sociology?” she asks.
It is an effort not to throw her through the porthole. “Yes. Jamie Lyonne, right?”
Her eyes widen. “How did you know?”
I feel the last of my patience snapping. This is why I don’t interact with people. “Because we took a class together. And had a partner project together.”
“Did we?”
“On social cues,” I say. “And you contributed absolutely nothing.”
“Why would I do anything when you probably did such a good job doing everything?” she asks, batting her eyelashes.
I could rip them out one by one and still not be satisfied.
“You’re lazy, and now you’re encroaching on my personal space,” I say. “This was funny to start, but now it’s getting old. You have to go to your actual room now.”
She stares at me. “This is my actual room. And you know what? You’re being such a jerk, I think you should have to sleep on the couch the first night.”
This is ridiculous. I’m not getting paid to talk to this sorry excuse for a person. I look at her, taking in everything about her. She may be unfairly attractive, but she’s also wearing a rumpled Blondie tee shirt and ripped jean shorts. They’re so ripped that there’s barely any fabric covering her. All in all, a very unattractive outfit that doesn’t make me wonder what’s underneath. She should be more composed, like me.
I don’t have time for this, and I say as much.
“Where are you going?” she asks as I push past her.
“We are going to talk to the captain. Come with me.”
She grumbles a little, leaving her suitcase in the middle of the room, but follows me out the door. I check to make sure it locked -- it did -- and then I’m on my way.
“Yikes, my mom does that,” Jamie says. “And you still never told me your name.”
“Britt.”
“That’s pretty,” she says, and my traitorous cheeks flush. Which is stupid. A name is a name is a name. There’s nothing pretty or nice about it. It is what it is, and she’s just being polite.
Except I don’t think polite is a word that meshes well with Jamie Lyonne, so maybe she does mean it.
