Page 8 of If I Go Down with This Ship

Swallowing, I hold my hands up higher in surrender, words lodged in my throat.What can I even do?Is there any way to weasel my way out of danger?

Play a fool, I think.Maybe they won’t kill me if they think I’m a fool.

“I’m sorry?”I say, the picture of innocence.

Someone hauls me to my feet by the jacket before shoving me forward until I fall to my knees at the feet of the man wielding the knife, the scraggly imperfect scruff of a life at sea framing his jaw.I let my eyes roam up and up, taking all of him in.

Dressed in a grungy white shirt tucked into dark, loose breeches, he must be only a few inches shorter than me.Some of his nearly black hair is pulled back into a messy bun, other strands of wavy hair framing his face.He has a square jaw lined in salt-and-pepper facial hair, small patches of bare skin highlighted by silver scars where the hair hasn’t grown in, and dark, glittering eyes set above a strong, straight nose.He’s staring down at me with something akin to suspicion.

And I know I should be thinking of other things—like how to get off this ship, for one—but I can’t stop myself from staring.

Now is not the time, Laszlo.

But damn it all, he’s one of the most beautiful men I’ve ever seen.

Listen, I knew I was bi when I was twelve and sawThe Princess Bridefor the first time.Part of me—particularly the pre-Julian part of me—wanted to don Westley’s black getup and take up a blade, but I also wanted Westley to save me.Much as I wanted to be the hero, I wanted to be the Princess Buttercup of my own story.I wanted to be swept up and saved.I wanted my wishes to be granted.

But this man?Thisman is gorgeous.In fact, I would walk the plank for him in a minute—well, not actually.I’d love to steer clear of any plank walking, thank you.

My eyes keep going to the patch of golden skin exposed by the open shirt, likely turned darker by his time under the sun.To the way the loose bits of his unruly hair cascade over his shoulders in waves and curl around his ears.I’m starting to think I have a thing for ruggedly handsome men.

Who am I kidding?I always have, and this man is that fantasy come to life.

“I said,” the man repeats gruffly, “who are you and what are you doing on my ship?Who sent you?”

My eyes linger on his lips, and it takes a moment for my brain to tug itself from the fantasies flitting through my mind.I can’t quite place the man’s accent.It’s an odd, almost British accent, but there’s something else there, lingering in the slightly halted pauses, the tilt of his tone, the hard “r” sound, the thick curl of his words.I lick my lips to ask, but he presses the blade harder.

“Oh,” I say, clearing my throat.I peer around me as best I can with the blade digging into my skin.The crew watches this knife-wielding man—no,me, I realize—with contempt, their hands going to their own weapons as they fall in around us.

And then I see it.I blink up at him, at the two gold rings on his hands, at the shine of his boots.The way he holds himself, the way the crew pauses as they wait to see what he’ll do, the way they look at him with something like respect.“Yourship?You’re the captain of this ship?”I ask, choking when he applies more pressure.

The man raises a brow.“Aye, I am.”Tilting his head, he nods to one of the people behind me.The arms holding me in place tighten, and I hiss in pain, wincing as someone drags me to my knees by my hair, all the while the blade never leaving my throat.“And you are?”the captain asks, tilting his chin up.

What have I gotten myself into?Rather, how did I even end up here in the first place?

“I’m just…” I swallow hard, the blade rising and falling with the bob of my Adam’s apple.“I’m just Laszlo.”Here and now, I am nothing else, no one else.I’m not a writer or a traveler, I’m just a man with a name aboard a ship in the middle of an ocean.

For the first time in a while, I have no money to my name, no home or possessions besides the clothes on my back and whatever is in my pockets.And I have never once been threatened by a knife, let alone come face-to-face with a real-life pirate.

I look up to the sky and squeeze my eyes shut.This, dear universe, is not the adventure I dreamed of.

The captain makes a sound in the back of his throat.“Just Laszlo?”he asks slowly.I blink, returning my gaze to him.He narrows his eyes before leaning in close enough that I can see the scattering of white hair lining his jaw.“Did you steal yourself aboard this ship, Just Laszlo?”

Sweat trickles down my back, and my pulse speeds as I rack my brain.I don’t have a lot of time, and from what I know of pirates, it wouldn’t come as a surprise if they decide to dump me overboard.But stealing myself aboard?That’s probably the best explanation for this predicament, because how else would I have come aboard this ship in the middle of an ocean, appearing out of thin air?

Much as I wish I could just come out and be honest, I don’t think magic and time travel are the answer they’re looking for.Do they still execute people for witchcraft?Do pirates believe in witches?Damn it all, I should have paid more attention in history class.

“Yes,” I say frantically, grimacing as the blade presses tighter against my throat.The point of the captain’s knife is digging into the soft skin beneath my jaw, and I flinch against the sting of pain, the flash of heat making me dizzy.Warm blood trickles down my neck and I lock my knees together, everything in me on the edge of fainting.

I want to run, to flee, but I have only one place to go.I seethe waves in my periphery and hear them crash against the side of the ship, all my nightmares coming to life around me.Is that really how I want to die?

“Yes,” I say, clearing my throat.“Yes, I snuck aboard.”

A beat, and then two.Finally, the captain nods to the pirates on either side of me.Hauling me up, they drag me to stand against the railing, the cool metal of the blade still pressed to my throat as they shove me against the wood.It creaks under my weight, and the wind slashes through my thin layers as they angle me over.

Oh, I’m going to die.This is it;thisis where I meet my end.I squeeze my eyes shut, imagining Louise’s smiling face.I’m sorry, I think.I hope you’re safe and don’t grieve for me too long, you know?But she has Mom and her job.Besides, she’s stronger than me.Eventually, she’ll move on and just be happy that she doesn’t have to text me every day.

The crew presses in further, bending closer, peering to get a good look at me, hollering for their captain to kill me.And I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that this is it.Thisis how I die, time traveling aboard a pirate ship with my neck slit and my blood spilling into the ocean, thrown to the sharks.