I stand in the hallway, hurt and confused. I thought Alex had wanted…the other night at the club he’d seemed so earnest when he…

Straightening my shirt I fix my hat on my head. When Alex shoved me, it’d been knocked to the side, and somehow, having it crooked seemed to only add to my confliction about finally admitting that I’m not straight. My entire reputation was built on that icon and I’d been outed, and now rejected, I can just imagine what a laughing stock I’m going to be.

I race back down the hall and up the stairs, slamming the door to my cabin behind me, starting to hyperventilate. Had I not been good? Was the kiss bad? Maybe Alex didn’t like the taste of brandy? Okay, now I know I’m reaching, but the sting of rejection is so fresh, I wonder if the throbbing ache of pain is ever going to subside. I feel like it would’ve hurt less if he’d just slapped me across the face.

Maybe I shouldn’t have been so accusatory when I approached him. I did shun him deck side earlier yesterday morning, and it is plausible he was still smarting from that insult but shoving me seemed a bit harsh. Is this just how it is? I have no idea how to process rejection being gay. Being rejected by women never hurt so much, maybe because I was never really that into women.

I loosen a button on my shirt and feel the lump in my throat once it’s given the room to grow. The tears form in my eyes before I can stop them, and a few slip down my cheeks. I can’t help it, I’d been so nervous about talking to him. Then I go and decide it was a good idea to take my liquid courage and confront him, only making the situation worse.

I glare at the complimentary bottle of brandy on the wet bar. Alcohol is evil and makes people do stupid things. Although, if I’m being completely honest, I’ve been the one doing stupid things the last couple of days all by myself. No assistance needed on that front, thank you very much.

I pace, wondering what I should do. Should I back out of production, now that I made it worse? Should I have Jake fire Alex? That isn’t ethical. This mess has only been made worse by my constant screw ups and I need to find a way to fix this myself. Is there any chance to explain my actions and smooth it over? Jake was so kind at the bar, and I want nothing more than to show him that he can have the best promotional video ever and not ruin his chances. There must be a way to fix this.

Before I know what I’m doing, I reach into my pocket, pull out my cellphone, and send a mass text to the cast and crew, calling an emergency shooting slot in the performance area. I want to get the sex scene out of the way. Maybe if I take that off the table I’ll be able to think about Alex rationally. In reality, I know that the reason I am calling the session is for a chance to talk to Alex alone. I can use the excuse of wardrobe, although the outfits are pretty straightforward. Bathrobes and silk boxers. But this is the only way I can ensure he won’t slam the door in my face.

I should have listened to Jake when he told me talking to Alex was the best course of action. Instead, I barged in, horns blazing, and lips in full smooch mode, and made a real mess of it all. Actions speak louder than words, but sometimes the mature thing to do is to think before acting, talk it out and communicate, then follow through with actions.

My phone starts to ping with responses, the session is on. The right people are on the way, but it’s Alex’s response I don’t receive so I text Alayah, the makeup stylist and ask her personally to check in on Alex. If he was sleeping he might not have heard my text, and I know they’re friends and her cabin is right next to his. She’ll rouse him for the session.

Heading up to the performance room I greet a very sleepy-eyed Jake and instantly feel bad. He probably hasn’t slept in the month leading up to this cruise, and with a successful shooting today, he probably let himself crash in anticipation of another day tomorrow, figuring the professionals he was working with would have everything well at hand.

“What’s up?” he mumbles, and a young assistant, probably fresh out of college, hands him a cup of coffee.

“Sometimes, the best production time is when the inspiration hits. I was off my game today, but now I’m feeling it and I think the romance and ambiance of a nighttime setting for the sex scene is the best time to film. I’m sorry, I know everyone is tired, but…”

“No, no! You’re the expert. If this is the time to do it, we can push back the morning session a couple of hours and do the afternoon session tonight. We have some flexibility,” he perks up and falls into the role of director, getting the scene set up. A king-size bed had been moved by a crew of six men up to the theater area, and they work, sweating and grunting to get it on the stage. Jake directs where to place the bed in the middle of the stage and he then begins ordering assistants to make the bed in various sheet sets of different thread counts and material.

When they hit the crimson satin sheets, I give him the thumbs up as the actors who’d been chosen to do the scene show up. One is groggy eyed, and a cup of coffee is forced into his hand immediately. The other is three sheets to the wind and a bottle of water is immediately handed to him. His face is misted with cool spray to start to sober him up. I doubt he’s coming back from the sloshed state he’s in until at least tomorrow morning, but the best we can do is help him remember any lines he might have, although this filming should be pretty straight forward with some passionate kissing, heavy petting and panting. I’ve been trying not to dwell on it too much, then all thoughts of it flee my mind when Alex walks in with Alayah.

Alayah immediately makes her way to the tired looking actor, and begins to address the bags under his eyes. Alex looks around, seeing his assistants already bringing the bathrobes and boxers to the actors, and his eyes catch mine. I gesture him over. He’s changed again which is peculiar. He’d been in the shirt and tie earlier with dress slacks, then the bad boy look, and now he’s back in the shirt and tie. Could it be he has an interest on board already who likes a certain appeal?

Heat begins to rise beneath my collar as I consider it. Jealousy has never been my thing. I think it’s strange now that I would be getting jealous over a man who has caused me nothing but confusion and hurt since I met him. I’m still reeling from my admission to coming out, still feeling like I’m foreign in my own body. And then to be rejected so forcefully? I’m not sure how he’s going to react to my need to talk to him.

With everyone busy prepping for the filming, he walks over slowly, and I wipe my palms on my own slacks. They’re slick with sweat and I can feel my stomach churn from the nerves. What if he rejects me again? At least in the hallway below deck, there hadn’t been anyone to see the rejection and how much it had hurt. It would be public here, in front of over two dozen crew members. I don’t know how I’ll handle it if he does it. I’ll definitely have to excuse myself from the project if he calls me out on it so openly and publicly.

The strange thing is, he looks completely confused as he approaches, and not at all angry and shocked like he did when I kissed him. I can see Jake and Alayah out of the corner of my eye and they’re both watching us, waiting for a sign, whether good or bad. I know they will each step in if necessary, but I want this out with Alex. I need to know where we stand. Either cool, distant, and professional, or completely at odds, awkward, and hostile. Part of me hopes he’ll forgive me and the attraction and lust I feel will be reciprocated in a classic tale of love at first sight. It’s a lot to hope for, but I’ve always been a dreamer.

“Is everything okay, Mr. Andrews?” he asks when he gets close to me.

“Ah, yeah. I was just hoping for a private word is all. Look, I know we got off on the wrong foot, er, well at the club and all…”

“Are you saying you didn’t enjoy that?” he asks softly.

He’s taller than me. Where I am five feet eight inches, he’s pushing six feet and I have to look up to him. “No, not at all. I just mean the shock of the other day and seeing you in the conference room…I didn’t handle that well and I’m sorry. And then on the deck…but I just want to say, that doesn’t excuse being shoved in the hallway. I mean, I know it was a kiss and it was sudden, and I probably shouldn’t have shouted, but to be honest I’d just admitted to Jake that I think I’m gay and…”

“Huh?” he looks so confused that, for a moment, I’m confused. “Mr. Andrews, what are you talking about?”

I frown. “Please, call me David. I think with the intimacy of the other night, we should at least be on a first name basis, don’t you?”

He nods, but still looks deeply perplexed. “Alright, David. While I’m glad we confirmed you enjoyed yourself at the club, I’m still very confused. I appreciate you apologizing for the conference room and deck meeting, but what’s this about you coming out and being shoved in the hallway?”

“Alex, please. Don’t pretend like it didn’t happen. I was so hurt, and you were so kind at the club. I think it was pretty obvious that I’m new to the scene. I was the one to deny that anything had happened, and I apologize for that, but please!” I beg.

I look at the crew who are pretty much ready for us to film now. The drunk actor is in bed and we won’t be able to keep him there much longer. I have a feeling the actor is the kind of man I’m going to find peeing in the foyer’s shrub and be excited that he’s helping to water the plants so thoroughly. The other actor looks like he is going to fall asleep right next to him.

“David, I am so confused. You were shoved in the hallway? Are you alright?” Alex looks genuinely concerned but still just as confused. What is he playing at? Why is he denying what happened? Is this payback for what I did to him? He didn’t seem like the kind of person to be that cruel.

“I guess now was not the right time to talk to you about this,” I whisper, and his frown deepens. My fantasies have been shattered. Reality is so very rarely an accurate representation of how fantasies play out. I turn towards the crew and call out action. The actors surprisingly only need a few takes before they have a rhythm down and play out the scene. I push Alex to the back of my mind, suddenly wanting this session to be over as quickly as possible. The drunk actor manages to ramp up the ardor, despite his inebriated state, which in turn wakes up the other actor, so that by the time filming is done, the two are walking hand in hand out of the performance center to one of their state rooms. I can’t help but wonder why my life can’t be that romantic. Why can’t I walk hand in hand with Alex back to my cabin, where he’ll teach me all of the amazing and wonderful things about coming out and how intimacy can be found with another man?

I ignore Jake when he calls my name from across the room. The crew looks tired as they put away the equipment and everyone heads to bed. Making my way back to my cabin I just feel exhausted and dejected. I tried to do the right thing, but apparently I’m getting a taste of my own medicine, and quite frankly, it hurts worse than anything I’ve ever felt in my entire life.