Page 38 of Ship Happens

“You could make that argument. Won’t make you any better at Putt-Putt.”

They move along to the next hole, where Owen watches as a child manages a hole in one effortlessly. Owen continues to follow Jacob’s advice, keeping his stance wide and his grip loose. It’s no hole in one, but the ball certainly gets a lot closer than Owen thought that it might.

“Hmph,” Owen huffs. “Looks like I don’t need your help after all!”

Jacob shakes his head, his skin colored a blue hue by the flashing neon lights of the decoration. “Guess you don’t.”

“You know,” Owen starts to say, walking up to the ball and giving it the tap it needs to gain the momentum that carries it over the small hill, “you don’t have to hang out with me.”

The ball goes up the hill and down the other side. It doesn’t land in the hole, but it bounces against the barrier that keeps the balls from rolling out of bounds.

“Is that you asking me to leave?” Jacob leans a bit closer, balancing with his putter. “Or is it okay that I’m here?”

Funnily enough, the last thing he wants is for Jacob to leave.

He appreciates the company right now. Quite a bit, actually, even if it is Jacob. “You can stick around . . .” he says. “Only if you really want to.”

Owen finds the ball, lining up the easy shot, watching as the ball sinks into the hole.

“Wow, you’re already showing improvement!” Jacob pulls Owen’s attention away from the game yet again.

“That sounded sarcastic.” Owen smirks.

Holding his hands up, Jacob says, “No, no. I’m being one hundred percent serious.” His tone indicates otherwise.

“Okay, I don’t need the sass.”

Jacob smiles at Owen, reflections of the nearby string lights reflecting in those brown eyes. It’s so easy to dive headfirst into them, and Owen hates himself for it.

But he’s not angry.

“Hey!” A shout comes from just a few yards away, around the other side of that damn hippo. Both Jacob and Owen turn suddenly to look at the adult man waving his club in the air. “Are you two gonna stop flirting and clear the course or not?”

Owen prays the flush on his cheeks isn’t obvious.

Jacob looks down at Owen’s ball, right next to his foot. “Do you actually want to finish the game?” he asks.

Owen chuckles. “If I bastardize this game any further, they might actually throw me in ship jail.”

“I think it’s called the brig?” Jacob corrects.

Owen rolls his eyes, squatting to pick up the ball at the same time Jacob does, their fingertips brushing against each other as they both reach for it.

“Sorry.” Owen forces out a sound that he means as a laugh, but he’s not certain it comes out that way, only furthering his embarrassment.

Their eyes meet, and Owen feels that tug in his heart. The very same one he remembers from the day they met face-to-face for the first time, when Jacob opened the door to his apartment and let Owen in.

“Come on.” Jacob picks the ball up, dropping it into Owen’s open palm. Their eyes meet once again, and for a moment, it almost feels like everything is normal. Then Owen has to remind himself that this means nothing, it’s just an act of civility.

That’s all they have now, and maybe that’s all they’ll ever have.

“Please, please, please!” Kaitlyn begs. “You have to win it for me, he’s so cute!” She presses her nose against the glass window of the claw machine, gawking excitedly at the pile of plush Kirbys, all designed to look like they’re napping. “Look at his little nightcap, Owen!”

“Why don’t you ask your wife?” Owen questions, leaning against the machine.

“You know how uncoordinated she is.” She pulls out a plastic card loaded with credits for the ship’s twenty-four-hour arcade.

“Give me some room,” Owen says, taking the card.