Page 63 of Ship Happens

“Your allyship is astounding, Kev.” Owen rolls his eyes affectionately, watching Kevin’s reflection continue to get dressed. “I’m not even sure what I’d do with a rebound.” Who knows—he’s feeling decent about himself, maybe he’ll find someone to dance with, a stranger whose eyes he can get lost in instead of thinking about Jacob, about wanting to reach for his hand and drag him to the dance floor.

Not going to happen, Owen thinks.

“That doesn’t involve kissing a stranger at midnight?” Kevin asks.

“Are you offering?”

Kevin grins. “I’m not a stranger!”

“True. I’ve also heard you’re a bad kisser,” Owen jokes.

“Now I know that’s not true.” Kevin points, feigning offense. “I guess I’ll just have to prove it.”

“That sounds vaguely like a threat.”

Kevin wiggles an eyebrow, making kissy faces at Owen. “More like a promise, sweet cheeks.”

Owen scoffs, shaking his head, and the two of them finish getting ready, meeting the rest of the gang in the kitchen before they head out. The cruise line has transformed the three-story atrium for the party, every single entrance wide open, the lights warm, and streamers hanging draped from the ceiling.

Cater waiters walk around, carrying trays of drinks and finger foods, and there’s softer music than what was playing at the sail-away party, a live band set up in the middle of the room where passengers are mostly just gathered around.

“Come on!” Kaitlyn says, turning to Abigail and grabbing her hand, pulling her to the dance floor. Kevin breaks from the group as well, making a beeline for the food. And then, it’s just Owen and Jacob, left standing there, staring at each other.

“So . . .” Jacob starts to say, tucking his hands into his pockets. Then he starts to ask, “Do you want to—”

At the same time Owen starts to ask, “Should we go—”

They both stop. And when Owen goes to talk, Jacob talks over him again. And when Owen tries to tell him to just get his point out, Jacob apologizes. It almost feels like a bad comedy routine.

“Do you want to go sit down?” Owen asks.

“We just got here,” Jacob says. “You don’t want to dance?”

Owen pauses, stuck looking at Jacob. The band is playing a slow song right now; there’s no other way to dance to it besides taking the hand of the other person, pulling them in close, and swaying back and forth. The thought makes Owen want to crawl out of his skin. And yet, the idea of taking Jacob’s hand and letting himself be dragged to the dance floor is oh so enticing.

It’d been hard enough when he saw Jacob step out of his room dressed in a crisp white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, his strong hairy arms on display. Then he’d turned, and Owen got a perfect view of his firm ass in black slacks, and Owen had to stop himself from reaching out to cop a feel.

It’s no better now, under the warm light of the atrium, his top buttons undone, chest hair peeking out.

“I, uh . . .” Owen stammers, mouth going dry. “I’m going to the bar.”

“Really?”

“Yeah!” Owen tells him. “Just going to get some water. I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Right . . .” Jacob says, watching Owen run away. Again.

For the next hour, Owen occupies a seat in the corner all to himself, nursing a glass of soda water while he watches everyone around him have fun. Even the bartender stops checking in on Owen’s pity party, leaving him alone to wallow in his misery with a bowl of peanuts.

It’s not just because Jacob looks hot, although that’s no small part of the battle being waged in Owen’s head. No, it’s how easy this is all becoming. Like today, when Owen caught himself wanting to reach out for Jacob’s hand on their walk, just to hold it. Or the other day when they were trapped in the closet, and he would’ve loved nothing more than for Jacob to lean down, close the distance between them, and kiss Owen.

“What is that?” Kaitlyn asks, sliding in next to Owen, her forehead slick with sweat from all the dancing she’s been doing.

“Just water, which you need, by the looks of it.” By the time Owen finishes his reply, Kaitlyn’s downed half of the glass before she places it back on the bar. “Having fun?”

“Yeah. I forget how long Abigail can go for,” she says, peering over her shoulder at where Abigail and Kevin are both dancing to a quick tempo.

Owen smiles fondly at the two of them before his attention is pulled to the back of the room where Jacob is sitting at one of the circular tables, drink in hand as he also watches Abigail and Kevin with a smile on his face.