The Bucket List

10 The Sunrise

"Amara."

"Five more minutes," I mumble, brushing off the hand on my shoulder. I can't open my eyes. If I open my eyes—

Too late. There it is: the mother of all headaches.

The voice—such a lovely, enticing voice—chuckles. "I have pineapple juice."

That gets my attention. I crack open an eye, trying to reorient myself.

Nicholai crouches into my line of sight. His black hair looks as ruffled as I've ever seen it. And that sleepy smile of his...well. I've woken up to worse sights. Far worse.

His face dredges up a few bleary memories: lining up shots behind the bar, retreating belowdecks to escape the crowd...

Oh, God. Lawrence.

A cool breeze kisses my face. I shift, and the bench beneath me groans in protest. I must have fallen asleep outside, somewhere on the main deck—and fully clothed, too. I smack my lips and grimace at the bitter taste of tequila that lingers on my tongue.

"Good morning." Nicholai holds a glass of pineapple juice in one hand and a silver flask in the other.

"How are you still drinking?" I croak.

"The hangover only hits if you stop." He lifts the flask up to my nose. "Would you like—"

I bolt upright, turning my face away. The world tilts on its axis. "Do you have a death wish?"

"You're full of questions this morning."

I tear my attention away from him to get my bearings. The sky is still black, with stars glittering high overhead. But a spot of pink light now paints the distant horizon, hovering against a calm sea.

I stretch out my stiff muscles with a grimace. Falling asleep here, beneath the stars, seemed like such a good idea at three in the morning. Then again, almost anything seems like a good idea at three in the morning.

Nicholai clears his throat.

I turn a baleful eye on him. "What time is it?"

"More questions," he murmurs, straightening to his full height. He offers me the pineapple juice. This time, I accept it.

"Reasonable questions." I savor the taste of pineapple as it coats my tongue, chasing away the lingering hint of alcohol. "Thanks."

"She does have manners." He motions to the staircase. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" Another question. Sue me.

He's already halfway across the deck. "We're going to watch the sunrise," he calls over his shoulder.

I groan but follow him. I have a feeling this side quest is about the list, but I can't just now remember the particulars.

We proceed belowdecks in silence, yawning every other step. Nicholai polishes off the contents of his flask with a quick toss of his head—and then withdraws another, larger flask from his back pocket.

"Alcoholic," I mutter.

"Pot." He points at me from over his shoulder. "Kettle."

"Ouch." He's got me there.

We reach the back of the impossibly large vessel after a short eternity. I can feel the soft hum of the engine through the soles of my shoes, lulling me back to sleep. Ahead of us, a cleary-eyed crew member stands at attention, a yellow jet ski by his side.

"Mr. Ivanov." The crew member steps to the side. "She's all yours."

"Nicholai," I hiss as understanding dawns.