4. Which Game?
4
WHICH GAME?
Magnus
Tango lesson?
Those two words give me a very bad feeling. What has my best friend cooked up?
Right now, though, I need to take one problem at a time. Namely, Susan's brother, Gabriel Verieux.
His name is Gabriel! I can't believe it. Whenever Susan or her parents talked about her brother, they always called him Gigi. I never thought about what that nickname could be an abbreviation for, and I still can't believe it! Gabriel Verieux. One of our national heroes. One of the men who won us the ice hockey silver medal at the Winter Olympics.
Susan, Klaus, and I watched every single one of the Terengian games and she never said a word about one of the players — one of the best wingers in the team’s history, one of the first line of our national team — being her brother. Should I have figured that out? I’m going to forgive myself for not doing that. After all, there are three other students on our course with the last name Verieux. In fact, there was a girl in my class with that last name. It would never have occurred to me to ask Susan if she was related to this particular Verieux.
When I get my hands on her … How could she have kept this from me? Clearly it was as much of a surprise to Klaus too, and that was a bit of a shocker. We’ve both been to Susan's house a few times, and her parents never mentioned anything either! Her father was always over-eager to discuss what we were learning, and her mother seemed to live more in a fictional world than here on planet Earth. I don't think the subject of sports in general or ice hockey in particular even came up.
Thinking back, if Susan's brother was mentioned at all, it was something like, "Gigi is coming home next month." Why Susan has never mentioned her famous brother, though, is an absolute mystery to me.
"Hmm ..." Gabriel Verieux clears his throat.
Maybe I should stop calling him by his full name. Even in my own head.
Then the thing I was about to worry about before the whole famous-brother surprise pops back into my head. Namely, that Gabriel Verieux — damn, I was going to have to break that habit! — that Gabriel didn't look too happy as he pulled his sister away just now.
"I may be wrong here, but I’m guessing Susan didn’t tell you I’d be your roommate on this trip," I say with a wry grin.
Gabriel rubs the back of his neck, whether from nerves or embarrassment is hard to tell.
"She told me to expect a delightful creature, so ..." he admits sheepishly.
I can't suppress a giggle. That’s Susan to a tee.
"And that delightful creature turns out to be her gay best friend." No sooner are the words out of my mouth than I freeze.
Shit! Was blurting that a good idea? I'm out and not about to hide who I am, but I’ve heard once too often about how homophobic some athletes can be. What if Gabriel is one of them? I could punch myself in the face for being so careless.
Panicking, I glance across at Gabriel. His posture and expression seem calm, although I can't tell what he's thinking at the moment. The mirrored glasses, which have found their way back onto his nose, hide the tell-tale eyes.
Gabriel shrugs. "Okay, I will admit to expecting a little more ... bust. But Susan isn’t wrong. You're a delightful creature, too."
Then his head tilts as if, behind the glasses, he’s checking me out. That can't be right, can it? Although, who knows? My body seems to like the attention, either way, because something starts to stir in my shorts. Gabriel raises his head and looks at me — presumably in the eyes this time.
Am I dreaming, or did he really just say I was a delightful creature? And did he actually just body-scan me? I’m so confused that my mouth falls open.
Is he flirting with me? The thought penetrates my numb brain.
When Gabriel’s face then turns bright red, I know I wasn't wrong. I take a deep breath. He’s clearly let something slip out that maybe took him by surprise as much as it did me. So, for now, I’ll let him off the hook. That’s not usually my style, but I'm so relieved that he seems okay sharing a room with a guy who’s into men, that I decide to be gracious for once.
It’s not as if we haven’t got anything else to talk about, thanks to Susan ...
"Do you know what Susan meant by ‘first tango lesson’?" I ask, air-quoting "first tango lesson" for emphasis.
Gabriel shakes his head. "No, but I wouldn't put anything past Susan."
His expression is a mixture of despair, a pinch of brotherly pride, and a flash of humor.
Wanting to be honest, too, I whisper conspiratorially, "I wouldn’t either!"
Our eyes find each other despite Gabriel's mirrored sunglasses, and something happens between us. Something I can't describe.
Then a loud blare makes us both jump. While my heart threatens to leap out of my chest, my brain registers what startled us. The captain must have thought it was a good idea to sound the horn as the boat casts off.
Thanks! I think. A little warning next time would be good!
"Phew, I wasn’t expecting that," Gabriel says with a nervous chuckle. "I almost tripped over my travel bag," he adds, pointing to the somewhat worn, plain black bag standing next to his feet.
Suddenly it occurs to me that Gabriel's plane was delayed and he landed so close to the ship’s embarkation that he wouldn’t have had a chance to go to our cabin. He’s yet to see just how cramped the conditions will be for the next few weeks.
"Shall I show you to our quarters?" I suggest attempting a more relaxed expression than I actually feel.
Inwardly I’m praying, Let this go well! Please, let this go well!
Gabriel nods and follows me silently up the nearby staircase. Our cabin is on deck six.
Still silent, we walk down a featureless hallway to the white door with the number 6274 on it. Susan and Klaus are next door to us, but luckily, nothing can be heard from their cabin. I hope it stays that way. There are certain things about my bestie that I definitely don't need to know about.
I open our door with the key card and then take a step back to allow Gabriel to enter. And, in all honesty, to give me a means of escape, if he should lose his nerve. Admittedly, he's been pretty cool about everything so far, but I can’t seem to trust it yet.
Gabriel doesn’t hesitate as he enters what will be our home for the next few weeks. The cabin is a bit smaller than a regular hotel room. To the left of the entrance door is another door that leads to our bathroom. Against the right wall are two beds. Two pillows lie on each of them and a dark green comforter is laid over the foot ends. Opposite the two beds is a narrow desk with a television on it.
Without any apparent reaction, Gabriel walks through the cabin and heads directly to the glass door that takes up almost all of the outer wall of our cabin. I hadn't closed it completely earlier when I put my bag down on the bed closer to the balcony.
I’d love to know what he’s thinking. Is he underwhelmed by the plain, small room? And now, I’m thinking it was a bit cheeky of me taking the better bed. I mean, he paid for the trip and all that. Why didn't I think of that before?
Still silent, Gabriel pushes the balcony door open all the way. A fresh breeze blows in from the sea and makes a few papers lying on the desk flutter. Gabriel doesn't react, and I have no idea what to make of it.
As he steps out onto the tiny balcony, which is just big enough for two loungers and a small, low coffee table, I notice he’s still holding his travel bag. Is he planning to bolt?
My nerves are getting more frayed, and I chew on my lower lip. Why won’t Gabriel say anything?
Gabriel
I inhale deeply. The salty sea air is so refreshing. I'm lucky enough to play for a Gothenburg-based hockey team, so I live just outside the city, only a few streets from the sea. But, what with the punishing training schedule and the many, many games played throughout the season, spending time at the beach is a rare treat. It’s a shame because I love the smell of the sea. The wonderful crash of the waves and even an on-shore breeze is a welcome retreat.
Dropping my travel bag on the floor next to me, I take another deep breath, and it's as if all the stress of the last few months falls away in that one simple inhale. I'm on vacation! At last! I step forward and rest my forearms on the railing and gaze out to sea. Behind me, I can hear movement in the ridiculously small cabin Susan booked for us.
Susan.
I shake my head.
What was my crazy little sister thinking? Putting me in this tiny room with someone I don't know is insane. Why didn't she book bigger cabins? Or better yet, why didn't she just book an extra cabin?
Then there's the little matter of the tango lesson. I'll show up there in two hours — I don’t want to be a party pooper — but I’ll just let the whole thing wash over me, and then get on with the rest of my vacation.
Minus the sex.
Or maybe I’ll meet a delightful creature all by myself somewhere onboard. Preferably one with a single cabin. I would hate to throw Magnus out of this one for an hour … or several. I get the impression that he’s got no more idea of my sister’s plans than I do.
"Um, Gabriel ..." The voice behind me is slightly uncertain.
I flop into one of the small loungers on our little balcony — why is everything so small? — and turn my head in the vague direction of the voice. Magnus is standing in the balcony doorway, holding a few sheets of paper in his hands and looking at me a little feverishly.
"How good is your Spanish?" is his next surprising question.
"Almost non-existent," I answer, wondering why Magnus is interested in my foreign language skills.
"Well, my Spanish isn't perfect, but if I'm interpreting this right, Susan signed us up for an intensive tango course with the famous dance teacher Ernesto de Vale.”
Magnus hasn’t even finished speaking when I jump from my chair and snatch the notes he’s been clutching so tightly. In a panic, my eyes fly over the printed words. I mean, a single tango lesson is one thing, but a whole course … And what exactly does that entail? How much time will it take?
My plan was to disappear for a couple of hours each morning and afternoon to the state-of-the-art fitness suite they have on board — simply because I hate having to rebuild my game fitness from scratch before the season starts. But the rest of the time, I'd planned to spend in a deck chair, with maybe a little swimming, and time to devour a mystery novel or two. Any time left would have been dedicated to flirting — or a little more — with my sexy companion. Those plans have been derailed already and look set to come off the tracks completely.
The words on the paper in my hand mean nothing to me. I wasn’t lying when I said my Spanish was virtually non-existent. I took French in school instead. I look helplessly at my traveling companion.
"As far as I can make out, we have a double tango lesson each morning and another one each afternoon." Magnus answers my unasked question in a tone that suggests he doesn’t want to admit the truth to himself.
In my mind's eye, I see my vacation flowing down a symbolic drain. So Susan has decided I'm supposed to tango for four hours a day. I wonder if she’s considered the additional four hours in the gym I’ll need to stay halfway in shape over the vacation. Her itinerary doesn't leave much time for rest and relaxation. It's enough to make me spit!
I'm going to kill Susan!
Angrily, I try to push past Magnus. It's about time the thing that our mother gave birth to answers for this.
"Where are you going?"
Magnus has been a bit reserved, if not downright shy, since we met. Now he’s blocking the balcony doorway, his arms folded across his chest, refusing to let me pass.
"I'm going to wring my sister's neck!"
A wry smile crosses his face. "I'd hold off for a bit, if I were you."
"Why should I?" I growl back. My brusque manner doesn't intimidate him any more than it does my sister.
"Klaus had his end of year exam yesterday. He’s been cramming for months now. The week before, Susan and I had some pretty tough seminar work to complete. That means they’ve hardly seen each other in the last few weeks."
I stare at Magnus uncomprehendingly for a moment, but the penny drops at last.
Yuck! The thought his words conjure is even worse than the proposed tango lessons. I shake like a dog to dislodge it so that Susan remains a virgin in my mind. No matter how many boyfriends she hooks up with or how many future kids she has, my little sister doesn't do … that . Period!
Magnus watches me with an amused smile as if he’s reading my thoughts.
Can this day get any worse?
I squeeze past him and drop onto the bed that doesn’t have a bag on it. After staring at the uninteresting white ceiling for a moment, I turn back to Magnus. As forceful as he was just a few minutes ago, he’s retreated into himself again — as if he’s holding back his true self from me. That’s a shame! I was pretty impressed with how he stood up for my sister.
Right then, the sun slips out from behind a cloud and I gasp as the rays illuminate Magnus from behind, making his shoulder-length blond hair shine.
He truly is a delightful creature. It’s the second time today that this surprising and not entirely welcome thought flashes through my mind.
With a discontented grunt, I turn away. I have no problem with gay men. In fact, I'm pretty sure Daniel, one of my best friends, is at least bi. I'll eat my hockey helmet if nothing happened between Nico and him during the Olympics. Everyone’s different. Love is love and so on ...
But that doesn't mean I look forward to sharing a room with my sister's gay best friend. As I said, I have no problem with him, but I was expecting to be sipping a Mai Tai with one of Susan’s cute female classmates right now. I’d planned to play the big hockey hero for her in the hope she’d fall into my arms … and then my bed.
I’ll never let my sister talk me into anything else as long as I live!
Magnus
Gabriel has made himself comfortable on the empty bed, and I stare at him uncertainly.
I have no idea what to make of my best friend's brother. I'm relieved he's not a homophobic asshole — one point for him. And he seems quite down-to-earth for a national hero, at least as far as I can tell after our brief acquaintance — another point in his favor. However, making death threats against my best friend isn’t exactly an attractive character trait, although maybe she deserved it a little. Damn! This is difficult. Perhaps that isn’t a downright black mark against him.
So far, then, he gets a tentative seal of approval.
Still, I can’t get my head around his behavior towards me. When Susan disappeared with Klaus, he gave me the once over — I’m sure of it! It was so intense it was an instant turn-on. And he said I was a “delightful creature.” So what if he instantly blushed from head to foot? Perhaps his own words took him by surprise!
Then there was that gasp when he saw me standing in the balcony doorway. What was that about? For a moment I thought he liked what he saw, but I must have imagined it because it was immediately followed by a frustrated grunt.
Am I imagining everything?
Am I reading too much into a few innocent gestures and sounds?
Maybe his behavior has nothing to do with me at all? Possibly he just wanted to be friendly to the "delightful creature" and now his long journey has caught up with him and he just wants to rest. Or maybe it was because of the bed after all?
"Would you prefer the other bed?" I ask cautiously.
Gabriel turns to me. For a moment, his features go blank with incomprehension.
Then he says, "No, I always sleep on the bed that's closer to the bathroom," as if it was common knowledge. It probably is — among his hockey colleagues.
My gaze falls again on the papers in my hand.
"We’re supposed to meet in the ballroom in just under two hours for the first dance lesson," I repeat the unexpected words Susan said to us only a few minutes ago.
Gabriel turns his back on me with a huff of annoyance. And his butt.
His sexy, tight, and tempting butt. A butt I’d love to sink my teeth into and nibble on. And those full cheeks … what wouldn’t I give to ease them apart and explore the softness inside with my tongue?
Stop! My thoughts halt abruptly as my subconscious pipes up loudly.
I exhale deeply. It’s right to intervene.
I have to share this tiny room for the next few weeks with this man ... with this obviously heterosexual man ... with this heterosexual man who’s already pissed by his sister’s choice of travel buddy. So no matter how much of a tempting specimen he is, it would be downright foolish to imagine him naked.
Or imagine him doing anything … naughty.
Or —
No, stop! I must stop this right now! My subconscious screeches yet again. Be thankful for the little things, Magnus. Be thankful he didn't kick you out of his cabin. Be thankful that he doesn't seem to have a problem with your sexuality. Be grateful ...
Gabriel shifts on his bed. He’s probably making himself a little more comfortable, but the byproduct is a wiggling body part that I’d just been admiring.
Shit!
My face flames instantly as utter lust races through my body.
Oh God! I have to get out of here! This man is too sexy. If I keep watching him shake his ass I won’t be able to contain myself.
I grab my key card from the small desk and take flight. And “flight” is the perfect word for what I do. I rush out of our cabin and only pause for moment in the windowless hallway to breathlessly lean against the wall between our room and Susan's.
Susan! What have you done?
How is this all going to work out?
How am I supposed to survive the next eighteen days?
* * *
The next two hours crawl by at a snail's pace while paradoxically flying by at the same time.
After catching my breath, I headed to the main deck and stood alongside countless other passengers at the railing and looked back at Barcelona as it shrank slowly into the horizon. The sea of houses gave way to the surrounding landscape — those green and yellow hills that rise along the coast — and I can't say exactly why, but the sight calmed me.
The melodic Spanish that was being spoken around me also relaxed me. It’s a language I can read relatively well, but when it’s spoken I can barely understand a word. I let the flowing sounds envelop me like a warm, comfortable cocoon — one that I’d have preferred not to emerge from.
When my heart eventually started beating calmly and the thought spiral I was in started spinning a little slower — sadly, it didn’t vanish completely — I set off to explore the ship.
Having done one full circuit, I’m blown away! I should have looked a little closer at the travel documents Susan sent me. It’s unbelievable how huge this ship is. At 950 feet long and 118 feet wide, it’s a real floating city. And it has everything anyone could want: nine pools — one with a slide and pirate ship — twelve bars, a library, a medical center, a range of stores, a 6,000-square-foot spa area, a bouldering wall, a gaming area, six restaurants, a disco, and an extremely well-equipped fitness suite. I was briefly tempted to work out my frustrations on the weights, but I didn't have any sports gear with me and sweating through my favorite shirt on the first afternoon wasn’t a good idea.
I stumbled upon the darned ballroom, too, worst luck. It’s located on deck four and the room is dominated by two chandeliers, their lights reflected in the highly polished parquet floor. The luxurious ambience immediately conjured up images of the Titanic.
Great! Now, I'm doubly nervous. Because not only am I sharing a room with an absolute Adonis — and forbidden fruit — over the next few weeks, but I'm informed enough to know that crossing the Atlantic will take several days. Days — plural — that we won't see land. Not even from a distance. What if this ship suffered the same fate as the infamous luxury liner?
A little green around the gills, I flee for the second time that day.
I had to get out of that room.
* * *
I only return to the ballroom at the very last moment. In fact, I'm a little late. My watch shows 4:31 p.m. as I step over the threshold. That's not normally my style at all. Not that they take punctuality too seriously here.
A good twenty couples are loosely spread around the spacious room, chatting away. A man I would guess to be in his mid-fifties sits at the black grand piano in one corner, fingering soft melodies to himself.
"Magnus!"
My name, called loudly, makes me spin around. Susan, Klaus, and Gabriel are standing in the corner opposite the piano. Susan is beaming. Her cheeks are glowing, and although every piece of clothing is pristine and there’s not a hair out of place, it’s obvious what she’s been up to for the last two hours. Or maybe it’s just obvious to me.
Gabriel looks decidedly uncomfortable standing next to the two lovebirds. Although whether he’s interpreted his sister's radiant appearance the way I have, or he’s nervous about the upcoming dance class, I’m not sure.
With a wry smile, I join the group.