Chapter 4

Andrew

 

I was going to keep running into him—hopefully not literally—for the entire cruise, wasn’t I?

Walking through Palma de Mallorca with my parents, I barely noticed the scenery. I was too hung up on the gorgeous man I’d crashed into on day one.

On a ship as big as this one, I’d figured that at best I might catch a glimpse of him now and then. No, I’d seen him three times since we’d, uh, met. Once while I’d been moving my luggage to the cabin my mother had wrangled for me so I could be close to them (yay?). He’d been walking down a passageway, looking at something on his phone, and thank God he hadn’t noticed me drooling like an idiot.

The second time had been at the restaurant last night when he’d looked right at me, and there’d been that moment of oh, it’s you! and he’d stumbled a little, but then he’d bolted.  I still didn’t know what to make of that.

And just a couple of hours ago, while my parents and I had been on our way out for this excursion, we’d wandered past one of the pools…and there’d he’d been. I’d almost tripped and my mother had almost crashed into me, but I just hadn’t been able to stop staring. Not when he’d been lying in a sunchair in a pair of black swim trunks and nothing else.

It was probably just as well he’d had on some sunglasses, or I’d have faceplanted. Which would have made a great impression—two of the few times he’d ever seen me, and I’d been unable to walk without crashing or falling. Not that he’d been steady on his feet at the restaurant last night, but still.

The tour guide led us along the shady side of a narrow street lined with chalk-white buildings, and I tried to pay attention to her narration, but I couldn’t get that guy out of my head. Here I was in a gorgeous place I’d never been, and I was completely distracted by a lightly bearded jaw and smooth abs and long fingers.

I also couldn’t stop thinking about the very fact that I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Having a crush or feeling even one iota of attraction was foreign to me these days. I’d been in such a funk since long before I’d lost my job. I’d been miserable at that gig. Depressed and stagnant. Now I was unemployed and felt worse even while I was relieved at not having to work in that place anymore. So my libido had pretty much gone into hibernation while I tried to unfuck my life.

And then…him.

I couldn’t fix my attention on the scenery. Not the beaches. Not the history. I noticed a good-looking and well-tanned guy walking the other direction, and I was aware of how attractive he was, but I didn’t really feel anything. I was way too busy fixating on that stranger who was probably still back on the boat lounging half-naked by the pool.

And probably miles out of my league.

My heart sank as that thought circled around for the hundredth time. Because of course it did.

No point in fantasizing about him, Andrew. You’re never going to lay a hand on him.

I sighed. Well, now I felt so much better. Was it time to go back to the boat yet?

According to my watch, no. Still a few hours to go.

Fuck.

 

***

 

Though I hadn’t been paying much attention, I wasn’t completely oblivious to my surroundings, and Palma really was beautiful.

The Cathedral of Santa Maria of Palma was spectacular. The enormous gothic style building dominated the scenery, and inside was…wow. I would have been impressed no matter what, but given that it had only been a few days since I’d toured the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona, this place was jaw-dropping.

Don’t get me wrong—the Sagrada Familia had been…interesting. Not what I’d expected, probably because it wasn’t centuries old like this one, which looked more like a classic cathedral. My Catholic parents had been decidedly unimpressed with it, which I had to admit was kind of amusing. Maybe I’d just been too hot and jetlagged that day, but I’d found it seriously entertaining listening to them grumble about how it looked more like a Martian art project of something out of a David Cronenberg film than a proper cathedral. My mom had been especially annoyed—offended, even—by the blocky alien-like statues making up the Passion and Nativity scenes on the exterior. Meanwhile, my dad had flustered our tour guide by trying to get an explanation for why the clumps of fruit on top of the spires outside looked like Trix cereal. I’d just chuckled and trailed along behind them, stopping to take pictures of the amazing rainbow rays pouring in from the stained glass, and the light fixtures on the pillars that looked like either unearthly eyeballs or fencing masks, depending on the angle.

So that had been my first and so far only experience with a cathedral, and then…this. Even from a distance, the La Seu—what the locals and our guide kept calling this one—was impressive, towering over the clumps of smaller buildings at its feet. Inside, it seemed even bigger with its soaring arches and gigantic pillars framing colorful stained glass windows.

When we were in there, I was so blown away, I almost forgot about the hot guy in the black swim trunks. Almost. For a minute. But then I was thinking about him again, and felt myself blush as I self-consciously glanced around in search of a confessional. I was a lapsed Catholic, but old habits died hard.

The tour broke for lunch at a small plaza surrounded by cafés, and my parents and I found a table in the shade by a fountain. The wind occasionally blew some spray on us from the fountain, which normally would have annoyed me, but given how hot it was today? I wasn’t going to complain about a cool mist.

We ordered a pitcher of sangria to share, and despite our really awful Spanish, managed to order some something involving goat cheese and onions along with a plate of fries. I hoped, anyway.

As soon as the waiter had walked away, Dad turned to me and took off his sunglasses. “Hey, are you all right? You’ve been kind of distracted all day.”

I saw the most gorgeous man and I can’t stop thinking about him.

“I’m fine. I’m just, um…” Feeling sorry for myself because he’s out of my league. I cleared my throat as I thought fast. “Worrying about things back home. Getting a new job and all that.” Aw, fuck. That was a can of worms I didn’t need to open.

“Honey.” Mom squeezed my arm. “You’re on vacation. Try to relax a little. God knows you need it.”

I nodded but didn’t speak. She was right—the job had been horrifically stressful, and even though unemployment hadn’t been a picnic, I had to admit the pink slip had almost been a relief. Some downtime wasn’t the worst thing I could indulge in after my stint in that hellhole.

Dad wasn’t going to let the subject drop, though. “Maybe what you need is to come up with a strategy. Something to give you an edge when you’re jobhunting.”

I suppressed a groan. “Like what?” I shrugged. “I mean, I get it—capitalize on my strengths. But as far as something that’ll make me stand out? I’m not sure I have anything because I’ve always done what I was supposed to do, you know? I’m just like everyone else out there because I thought that was what employers wanted.” I exhaled, hating how depressed I was feeling in the middle of this sunny paradise. “Now I just feel like I’ve been spinning my tires.”

“That’s because you need to pursue things, Andrew.”  He patted my forearm. “Things besides what you’ve already been doing. You need to think outside the box and be aggressive.”

I shot him a side-eye. “Dad. This is me we’re talking about.”

“I know, but you can learn new tricks just like any old dog.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek. I understood what he was saying, but it was easier said than done. “Employers want to know what I’ve got experience with. I can’t really do new tricks at the interview stage, you know?”

“Sure you can.”

I inclined my head. “Such as?”

“For starters, by applying for things you normally wouldn’t.”

I arched an eyebrow, but before I could protest, he went on.

“You’ve got to take some risks. Jump on opportunities. Don’t just sit back and hope those opportunities notice you. Even if it’s a job that seems like more than you’re qualified for on paper, you might be exactly what someone’s looking for.”

I tried not to sigh impatiently. Times had changed since my dad had been applying for work. Employers didn’t have time to waste on people whose ambition reached beyond their qualifications, and I wasn’t about to put myself on anyone’s shit lists. The days of pounding pavement, tossing your résumé at everyone who’d listen, and generally being a pain in someone’s ass until they recognized your persistence as ambition and hired you? Those days were over.

Right then the waiter arrived with our food, which turned out to be sliced baguettes with warm goat cheese and caramelized onions. They were amazing, too. I was going to have to make these at home.

As a bonus, they pulled my dad’s focus away from my floundering career. While we worked our way through the food and sangria, he and Mom discussed whether it would be worthwhile to sign up for the Alhambra excursion while the ship was in Gibraltar later in the week.

And me? My mind went right back to the place it had been for the last two days.

 

***

 

It was almost seven when my parents and I made it back to the ship. We had dinner in one of the ship’s many restaurants, and they went to see a show while I bowed out and went back to my cabin to relax.

Except I wasn’t relaxing. I was restless. I needed a break from being joined at the hip with my parents, yes, but staying here in my cabin all night? Not a chance, unless I was just going to lie here and mentally ogle the man who’d been on my mind all day.

I sat on the edge of my bed and thumbed through the itinerary to see if there was anything interesting going on. Shows…movies…themed parties…

The LGBT mixer appeared on the screen, and I stopped scrolling.

Instantly, my stomach was a ball of nerves. Just the thought of going down there and trying to meet someone…oh God. How was I even supposed to do that? I could barely approach someone on a hey let’s go fuck app, never mind in person.

On the other hand, the odds of me seeing anyone I met at that mixer after the cruise were slim to none. I could walk in there, get sloppy drunk, say something stupid, and hook up with a guy I would never touch sober, and no one would ever know. Hell, if I drank enough, even I wouldn’t know.

Okay, maybe dial it back a notch. No getting blackout drunk. If I dented my dignity tonight, I would damn sure remember it…but no one in my social circles would ever know it had happened.

I chewed my lip as I stared at the icon for the mixer. What did I have to lose besides a little pride? And hell, I had a cabin to myself. The bed was narrow, but it would fit two if we were…like…stacked.

Yep. I was going.

I tossed my phone on the bed and went into the bathroom to grab a shower.

 

***

 

Whoever had organized this mixer had spared no expense making sure there was zero chance of someone stumbling in here and not realizing it was a queer event. Every surface was either covered in something rainbow—flags, confetti, streamers—or illuminated by strategically placed rainbow lights.

And probably just to be sure some little old ladies didn’t stumble in here and have a heart attack, there were a couple of employees stationed outside like bouncers. They asked just about everyone if they were here for the mixer before letting them in.

I must have telegraphed queer pretty strongly because they waved me in without a word. I didn’t bother thinking about whether or not that offended me; I knew how people saw me. And besides, the sooner they let me in, the sooner I could find someone hot and available.

At the bar, I ordered up a glass of liquid courage. Not just metaphorically, either—there was literally a drink called Liquid Courage on the menu. I didn’t pay much attention to what was in it. I wasn’t a big drinker, so I had no idea what half the liquors and liqueurs were. I just gave it a quick look to make sure it didn’t have tequila in it, then ordered one.

It wasn’t bad. Sweet with a sour edge, and definitely something strong. Perfect.

Drink in hand, I leaned against the bar and scanned the room. The crowd was mostly men with a handful of women and some androgynous people. There was a drag queen wandering around handing out rainbow paraphernalia to attach to hair and clothing, and I didn’t think even one more person could possibly fit on that tiny dancefloor. They sure tried, though.

Around the edges were couples. Some who seemed cozy enough to be established. Others who were extra cozy like they were just waiting for one or the other to whip out a room key and say, “Let’s get out of here.”

I took a deep swallow of Liquid Courage. It wasn’t doing much, but it kept my mouth from going dry just in case I needed to effortlessly deliver some smooth lines to whichever hot man I finally managed to approach.

Smooth lines. Me. Ha. I’d be lucky if I could stammer my name and maybe something in the ballpark of I’m into you. Online dating had been specifically invented for people like me who needed to type-delete-type-delete-type a few dozen times before actually hitting Send. There was no delete key in person.

I could do this, though. Just had to find an attractive man—okay, pick one of the many attractive men, and try to get on his radar. Approach him? Not likely. Establish eye contact from across the room and hope for the best? That I could do. Just had to—

Oh.

Dear.

God.

My jaw literally fell open, and my Liquid Courage very nearly slipped out of my hand.

It was him. Again. And he was wearing a black blazer over jeans and a white T-shirt. Had this guy hacked into my computer and found all of my kinks or something? Because Jesus fucking Christ.

Standing by the other bar, one hand holding a mostly empty glass while the other was casually in his pocket, he was scanning the room. He looked relaxed. Way more relaxed than I could ever be in an environment like this. Like he wasn’t at all nervous and didn’t think for a second that he’d have any trouble getting the attention of any man he wanted. Or was totally at ease with the idea of, if he didn’t see anything he liked, leaving alone. Completely confident he could have any man in the room, and not at all above leaving if he didn’t want any of them.

Or something. I was probably reading way too much into him. All I knew was he radiated confidence, and I wanted him. Especially now that I knew he wasn’t straight. Or hell, maybe he was. A straight guy so secure he’d hang out at a gay mixer? Okay, probably not. If he was here, he was queer.

My spine straightened as I realize there were some other guys stealing glances at him. And that he was checking out other guys.

Competition.

Except did it even count as competition? Did I stand a chance at turning his head in an empty room, never mind when he was already eyeballing that silver fox with the skintight shirt revealing a six-pack underneath? Or when there was a ridiculously hot olive-skinned guy watching my man—yeah right—over the top of his glass?

Maybe I didn’t stand a chance. Maybe I did. But I wasn’t going to find out if I just stood over here like an idiot. And Dad had told me I should be more aggressive. Jump on opportunities instead of hoping those opportunities noticed me. Did that apply to men? And did the whole thing about going for jobs I wasn’t strictly qualified for count too? Did I really have anything to lose by approaching a man who was out of my league?

I supposed I didn’t. Maybe a little dignity, but I couldn’t imagine I had much of that left after colliding with him the other day and tripping over my own feet this morning. It was worth a shot, wasn’t it? Because on this cruise and in this bar, I wasn’t some flailing loser who had no idea where his next paycheck would come from or where his life was going. I was a man who wanted another man, and there was no reason to assume that—if only for tonight—I had a shot with that man.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I straightened my shirt, took a deep breath, and headed across the room.