Harry Styles And The New York Apocalypse - Plot & Excerpts
You could go on deck and watch the waves crashing by. You could stand at the stern rail and imagine you were on the Titanic. Forget all the modern-day gluttony, the moronic people who never left the pool, and the amateurish entertainment - the basic joy was there if you wanted to experience it. But it was nothing to the feeling of being out there on a small boat, Liam concluded. Even with the shoreline almost always in sight, and the sea quite calm, to be bobbing along under a large white sail, with a sailor who threw himself from side to side and worked like a magician to keep her moving, it was exhilarating. To feel the spray hit your face, it made him laugh, feel refreshed, and to see Sabrina, her hair in a ponytail, loving it as well, that just topped the lot. Allison wasn’t enjoying it, though. She stayed in the cabin, from where her ashen face poked out, perhaps begging to be told that they were nearly there. ‘Were you sick on the liner, Allison?’ asked Liam.
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