Because I have three stories that haven't been posted yet.

Also, I know people have complained that they don't like small snippets of the story because they want to know what happened in between and honestly, the reason they're snippets is because literally nothing of interest happens in between. Nothing. Interesting ideas that can happen in the story pop into my head and I write it; in between, I just assume that they just sail and read or something. Here's the next installment:

You would have thought that Helena would have been nervous as she stood outside Vincent’s cabin, especially since it would be the closest that she would be to him in a while; it would make sense for her to be nervous. But, maybe because of the intimate look they exchanged, she felt that there was a barrier that was broken; she didn’t have to worry about him avoiding her anymore.

She had slipped the note under his door and waited until she heard him pick it up to skip back to Benjamin. Some of the crew had decided to stay in inns for their stay in the South of France, mostly to pick up women, but Vincent and Benjamin preferred to say on board along with the rest of the men. Helena had no business picking up women and something didn’t quite seem right anymore about her going about her working ways; the Captain wouldn’t have been happy and as they had just seemed to be getting back to how they were, she didn’t want to push it.

Benjamin was asleep in his hammock, even though he’d promised to stay awake and help her prepare herself. They had spent the day walking with, funnily enough, Benjamin as her escort; the Captain said he had business of his own to attend to and so she was allowed to frolic around as long as she was accompanied by Benjamin on these outings. Needless to say, the fact that they remained treating her like this helpless little thing still irked her, but she’d long since realised there was nothing she could do to fight it. It had been a pleasant day: Benjamin had seen her attempts at thievery and given her a lecture on how she needn’t take things anymore because whatever she wanted they could afford to give to her; unconvinced, she’d continued trying to steal things on many occasions, but Benjamin had caught her every time and just bought it for her instead.

Apparently it had been exhausting for him because, although he’d promised to talk her through beforehand, he was sound asleep in his hammock. She stalked over to him, ready to shake him awake; but he looked so peaceful that she didn’t have the heart to do so. Instead, she ran her fingers through her hair and smoothed out her shirt; she looked down glumly at her bitten-down nails and bony fingers. At times like these she would wonder what it would be if she was a graceful, delicate flower of a girl that stood up straight and wore dresses and corsets and drank tea with cakes; if she was actually Posh-Helena as opposed to Real-Helena. Posh-Helena would be confident with the right amount of bashfulness that would lure the Captain in so easily; Posh-Helena would have called him Vincent because she would be sure that it would make him wrap himself around her finger. The Real-Helena was already around his finger and she couldn’t bear to call him Vincent again because her pulse nearly choked her when she did so. The Real-Helena was far too frightened of what he did to her to be able to be sure of herself in the slightest.

The Captain was lying on his back in the middle of the ship, seeming to be staring at the sky. She went and stood over him; he too looked as if he was taking a nap but as she prodded him once in the side with her foot, his eyes snapped open immediately. She sat down one leg opposite him. They said nothing, just sat there looking at each other.

“How was your day?” asked the Captain, breaking the silence. Helena uncertainly played with the buttons on her shirt, undoing and doing up again the second button.

“It was very nice,” she said, her voice light. She was, despite the nervousness, still very happy that they were actually having a conversation. “The food here is delicious.”

“I suppose.”

“Hm, just because you grew up with luscious banquets in a mansion every night.”

“Heh.” He chuckled quietly. “Not every night.”

“It was probably still better than anything I ate for dinner.”

“Probably.”

“Mm.”

She looked up at him through her eyelashes and he was playing with the wooden floor, drawing patterns and circles with his index finger absent-mindedly. She watched him trace shapes for a while and, entranced, leaned forward. His hand stopped moving and he slowly raised his gaze to meet hers; breathless he leaned as well, but still leaving a significant amount of space between them.

Annoyed, Helena barked, “For goodness’s sake!” and pull him by his shirt towards her. He was too shocked to react properly but seemed dimly aware that if he didn’t hold her then she was going to fall back against the floor; so he wrapped one arm around her back while the other supported them both as strongly as it could.

He kissed her back but Helena realised that their position was far to awkward for him to be comfortable; he was too busy trying to prevent them from falling to be able to do anything else.

Panting, she pulled away. “Sorry,” she said, straightening herself up and kissed him again, trying carefully not to pull him too forcefully. She felt his hands bringing her closer this time, not just supporting her. She was cross-legged, practically in his lap with a firm hand on her back, clasping her to him. Hers knotted in his hair and tugged; apparently too hard because he jerked and groaned.

“Ow, Helena, love,” he laughed. She went in to kiss him again after apologising for a second time but he tutted and stopped her. Helena slumped back, disappointed. “Now what brought this one? I do recall you telling me that you needed some time? That we weren’t going to do this for a while?”

She didn’t like this; she didn’t like interrogation but most of all she didn’t like this interruption. She didn’t like that she could breathe, because that meant that they weren’t kissing and the things wrong with that were infinite.

“I...” She began and rubbed her face in frustration; how did he expect her to put it into words? “I don’t feel at ease around you, not exactly; but it just feels worse to think about it when I’m not. With you. So I think it’s common sense to see the wise option is for me to be with. You.”

“I see,” said the Captain; he seemed pleased but kept his distance, apparently enjoying the way she crushed the fabric of her trousers in her hand as way of restraining herself. She leaned in again and kissed his lips quickly, just as chastely as he had for that first time and kept their mouths very, very close; teasing him. But her plan wasn’t going as well as she thought because seeing his breathing coming quicker made her twice as nervous, twice as excited and twice as impatient. He reached for her just as she reached for him.