Page 81 of Ship Happens

“What?” Owen asks.

“You’ve got a little . . .” Jacob starts to say, motioning to his own cheek.

Owen reaches up to wipe away whatever it is he’s gotten on himself. Jacob just lets out another laugh. “No, on the other side—” And Owen wipes again, only for Jacob to reach up with his thumb, wiping at the skin underneath Owen’s left eye.

“There.” Jacob’s thumb is coated in a fine dusting of powdered sugar.

“Thanks,” Owen says, sure that his cheeks have turned beet red.

“Um . . . again . . . about last night, I—”

“It was a mistake.” Owen swallows. “We were tired, high, I was probably woozy on ibuprofen. Nothing happened anyway, so why linger on something we would’ve regretted?”

“Who says I would’ve regretted it?” Jacob dares, before he turns away, the words said quietly enough that Owen can’t really be sure that he heard Jacob correctly.

Except he did. He knows that he did.

The timer on the oven dings and instead of Owen asking Jacob to clarify what he means, he slides on an oven mitt and pulls the scones out of the oven. They’re perfectly flaky, with a buttery-golden top, the burst blueberries filling the air with a fruity, sugary scent that makes Owen’s mouth water. He doesn’t ask Jacob what he meant, because he knows the answer to that question already.

Chapter Thirteen

A Loving and Healthy Relationship Between a Man and His Pastry

The two of them return to the suite with a plate full of still-warm scones, now complete with a drizzle of icing along the top, that their friends devour.

They’re so good, in fact, that Kevin loudly declares, “If these were a woman, I’d date her for several years before getting on one knee and proposing, leading to a long and happy life filled with our half-human/half-scone offspring.”

“Kevin, what the fuck are you talking about?” Abigail asks, confusion and scone crumbs on her face.

“I’m talking about a loving and healthy relationship between a man and his pastry. What about my lifestyle offends you, Abigail?”

“Being a bit pastry-phobic, aren’t we?” Kaitlyn jokes, bumping her wife with her hip before going back to devouring the baked good. “So, the two of you went to a cooking class?”

From across the counter, Owen eyes Jacob.

Jacob eyes Owen.

And for a beat, neither of them says a word.

“Yeah . . .” Jacob breaks the silence first after just a few drawn-out seconds. “I, uh . . . I met up with Owen sort of late.”

Kaitlyn hums as she chews. “I’m guessing Jacob wasn’t much help, huh?” It takes Owen a moment to realize she’s talking to him.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. He helped . . . with the icing.”

Kaitlyn nods, but she doesn’t say anything. Owen can’t tell if she’s picking up on whatever weird energy the two of them have conjured up, but it’d be a miracle if she hasn’t.

Given that they only have one more day before they reach Juneau and the last leg of their vacation begins, Kaitlyn and Abigail want to spend their time wisely. Which means fitting in everything they possibly can.

They start with go-karting, racing the small cars on a track with sections that actually hang off the boat. Owen narrowly snags a victory from Kevin, Abigail and Kaitlyn left in the dust behind them. And poor Jacob winds up wedged between the two tires that make up the barrier.

After that, they grab lunch before they return to the room. Owen is exhausted, but Kaitlyn still wants to maximize their time together. So they dress in their swim trunks and waste some time at the indoor pool. Owen, Kaitlyn, and Abigail all watch as Jacob and Kevin take turns on a huge trapeze that swings them over the water, the two of them doing flips as they soar through the air before crashing into the water.

They play a quick game of shuffleboard that Owen’s pretty sure he loses at big time, only because he never truly understands the rules of the game. And they finally head back to the room one final time to shower and dress for dinner.

Kaitlyn keeps their destination a secret from the entire group, even Abigail. The only information they’re given is to “dress fancy.”

“Hey, uh . . . you’ve got the steamer?” Jacob asks, traipsing into Owen and Kevin’s room.