Page 59
Story: Ship Happens
FIRST DATE REVELATIONS
New York feels jarringly normal after the surreal bubble of the cruise ship. My apartment—filled with stacks of research papers, potted plants in various stages of dying, and the familiar clutter of academic life—seems almost foreign, as if it belongs to a different version of me.
In a way, it does. The Harper Bennett who left five days ago was laser-focused on exposing corporate environmental hypocrisy. The Harper Bennett who returned has... complications and a situation-ship.
Specifically, one six-foot-two complication with blue eyes and a maddening ability to make me forget every reason getting involved with him is questionable.
“Earth to Harper!” Zoe waves her hand in front of my face. “You’ve been staring at that same paragraph for ten minutes.”
We’re sitting in my living room, takeout containers spread across my coffee table as I attempt to focus on drafting my ‘expose’ while Zoe interrogates me about the cruise.
“Sorry.” I blink, refocusing on my laptop screen. “Just trying to get the wording right.”
“Mmm-hmm.” She gives me her journalist’s scrutiny. “Nothing to do with your dinner plans tonight?”
I’d made the fatal error of mentioning my upcoming date with Ethan, unleashing a barrage of questions I’m not qualified to answer.
“I can complete work on a deadline,” I mutter, though my concentration has been scattered all day. “It’s not like I’m some teenager with a crush.”
“No, you’re a grown woman who spent a week having hot sex with a billionaire she despised and is now attempting to write an objective assessment of his company while preparing to go to his apartment for a ‘dinner’ that we both know is about getting naked again.”
Put like that, it sounds ridiculous.
“It’s more complicated than that,” I protest.
“Obviously.” She steals a piece of broccoli from my forgotten takeout container. “That’s what makes it fun to watch. Harper ‘Principles Above All’ Bennett, sleeping with the corporate enemy, and I have a front-row seat.”
“He’s not the enemy.”
“Exactly my point.” Zoe looks triumphant. “Five days ago, you called him ‘the poster boy for corporate greenwashing.’Now you’re defending him. So, what happened between the champagne throwing and the bedroom gymnastics?”
I sigh, closing my laptop. There’s no point in pretending to work until I satisfy her curiosity.
“He surprised me,” I admit. “The conservation work is legitimate, not just PR. He’s implementing significant environmental improvements, many exceeding regulatory requirements. And he’s...” I struggle to articulate the complexity that is Ethan Cole. “He’s not what I expected.”
“Meaning?”
“He listens. Really listens, not just waiting for his turn to talk. He asks thoughtful questions. He’s willing to acknowledge where he’s falling short. And when I identified an issue with their waste systems, he didn’t get defensive or try to cover it up. He focused on fixing it.”
“Wow.” Zoe’s expression turns serious. “You like him. Not just because he’s hot and good in bed, but as a person.”
“I do,” I confess, the admission both frightening and liberating. “It’s inconvenient and complicated and a terrible idea, but... yes. I like him.”
“And he likes you?”
I think of Ethan’s expression when I agreed to try an actual relationship, the way he respected my need for professional distance, the text exchange on the plane that made me smile even when I was exhausted.
“I think so,” I say cautiously. “But it’s new and strange and neither of us knows if it can work in the real world.”
“Hence tonight’s dinner.” Zoe nods sagely. “The first real-world test.”
“Exactly.”
“What are you wearing?”
I laugh at the abrupt shift. “Clothes. I haven’t decided. Something casual but nice. Not trying too hard.”
She looks horrified. “Please tell me you’re not planning to wear one of your ‘scientific conference’ outfits. This is a date with a hot billionaire who’s already seen you naked. Up your game, Bennett.”
New York feels jarringly normal after the surreal bubble of the cruise ship. My apartment—filled with stacks of research papers, potted plants in various stages of dying, and the familiar clutter of academic life—seems almost foreign, as if it belongs to a different version of me.
In a way, it does. The Harper Bennett who left five days ago was laser-focused on exposing corporate environmental hypocrisy. The Harper Bennett who returned has... complications and a situation-ship.
Specifically, one six-foot-two complication with blue eyes and a maddening ability to make me forget every reason getting involved with him is questionable.
“Earth to Harper!” Zoe waves her hand in front of my face. “You’ve been staring at that same paragraph for ten minutes.”
We’re sitting in my living room, takeout containers spread across my coffee table as I attempt to focus on drafting my ‘expose’ while Zoe interrogates me about the cruise.
“Sorry.” I blink, refocusing on my laptop screen. “Just trying to get the wording right.”
“Mmm-hmm.” She gives me her journalist’s scrutiny. “Nothing to do with your dinner plans tonight?”
I’d made the fatal error of mentioning my upcoming date with Ethan, unleashing a barrage of questions I’m not qualified to answer.
“I can complete work on a deadline,” I mutter, though my concentration has been scattered all day. “It’s not like I’m some teenager with a crush.”
“No, you’re a grown woman who spent a week having hot sex with a billionaire she despised and is now attempting to write an objective assessment of his company while preparing to go to his apartment for a ‘dinner’ that we both know is about getting naked again.”
Put like that, it sounds ridiculous.
“It’s more complicated than that,” I protest.
“Obviously.” She steals a piece of broccoli from my forgotten takeout container. “That’s what makes it fun to watch. Harper ‘Principles Above All’ Bennett, sleeping with the corporate enemy, and I have a front-row seat.”
“He’s not the enemy.”
“Exactly my point.” Zoe looks triumphant. “Five days ago, you called him ‘the poster boy for corporate greenwashing.’Now you’re defending him. So, what happened between the champagne throwing and the bedroom gymnastics?”
I sigh, closing my laptop. There’s no point in pretending to work until I satisfy her curiosity.
“He surprised me,” I admit. “The conservation work is legitimate, not just PR. He’s implementing significant environmental improvements, many exceeding regulatory requirements. And he’s...” I struggle to articulate the complexity that is Ethan Cole. “He’s not what I expected.”
“Meaning?”
“He listens. Really listens, not just waiting for his turn to talk. He asks thoughtful questions. He’s willing to acknowledge where he’s falling short. And when I identified an issue with their waste systems, he didn’t get defensive or try to cover it up. He focused on fixing it.”
“Wow.” Zoe’s expression turns serious. “You like him. Not just because he’s hot and good in bed, but as a person.”
“I do,” I confess, the admission both frightening and liberating. “It’s inconvenient and complicated and a terrible idea, but... yes. I like him.”
“And he likes you?”
I think of Ethan’s expression when I agreed to try an actual relationship, the way he respected my need for professional distance, the text exchange on the plane that made me smile even when I was exhausted.
“I think so,” I say cautiously. “But it’s new and strange and neither of us knows if it can work in the real world.”
“Hence tonight’s dinner.” Zoe nods sagely. “The first real-world test.”
“Exactly.”
“What are you wearing?”
I laugh at the abrupt shift. “Clothes. I haven’t decided. Something casual but nice. Not trying too hard.”
She looks horrified. “Please tell me you’re not planning to wear one of your ‘scientific conference’ outfits. This is a date with a hot billionaire who’s already seen you naked. Up your game, Bennett.”
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