Chapter Ten He’s a Person, He’s a Man #3
And suddenly, hearing the break in the water before he actually sees the creature breach the surface, Owen gawks as one of
the whales soars into the air. Of course, it’s so large that only the top half breaches the surface of the water, but it’s
still glorious as it spins, turning onto its back before it collides hard with the ocean.
“They’re so big!” Kaitlyn exclaims.
“Well, yeah!” Abigail rolls her eyes. “They’re whales.”
“Do you think I could ride one?” Kevin asks, acting like he’s going to climb over the side of the boat before Jacob stops
him. Owen takes a few more photos with his phone, immediately contemplating a flash page full of whale tattoos.
“Want a picture of you with them?” Jacob asks.
“Oh, no,” Owen tells him. “It’s fine.”
“Come on, when are you gonna be this close to whales ever again?”
Fair enough, Owen thinks, standing there awkwardly as Jacob snaps a handful of photos. It’s only after a second or two that Owen realizes
he should probably do something with his hands, settling on the standard peace sign and an awkward smile.
Jacob pauses, staring at the screen of his phone with an almost fond expression on his face.
“No good?” Owen asks.
“Nope,” Jacob reassures him. “They’re great! I’ll send them to you.”
Owen feels a twisting in his stomach when the texts come through and he’s forced to reread the last things that he and Jacob
said to each other last year.
Jacob: Can we please call? I want to keep talking about this . . .
Jacob: Owen, please.
Owen glances up at Jacob, wondering if he’s rereading the messages too. Or maybe he deleted his side of the texts between
them. The boat pulls into the dock, deckhands tossing ropes to help lead the boat back into place.
“Did you have fun?” Kaitlyn asks as they’re ordered to take their seats again.
“Yeah . . .” Owen nods. Truthfully, he did, sans all of the anxiety he feels being this close to Jacob again.
“See what happens when you try new things?” she teases, pulling Owen in closer. “Imagine if you’d never come on this trip.”
“Yeah . . .” Owen repeats, glancing up at where Jacob is seated across from him, looking at something with Kevin on his phone.
“Okay, so!” Kaitlyn starts to say, leaning forward to talk to everyone. “There’s this really cool-looking diner near the port. I figure we eat there, then head back to the room and shower, get the salt water off of us.”
“Probably a good idea,” Owen says, giving himself a sniff.
“Then we get changed and head to the New Year’s Eve party?”
“Sounds good to me,” Owen says, flipping through the photos that Jacob sent him. From across the aisle, his eyes meet Jacob’s,
and Owen feels his heart fluttering in his chest. Only one thought comes to mind as he stares into those tender brown eyes,
letting himself fall deeper and deeper and deeper.
Oh no.
“God, I shouldn’t have eaten all of those pancakes,” Kevin says, pulling his belt tight around his waist.
“I told you to stop at five,” Owen chastises, pressing his towel to his hair to try and get as much water out as he can. Normally
he’d just let it air dry, but there’s no time for that tonight. “Then you went for the second bowl of grits.”
“I’m bulking!” Kevin says, letting out a guttural breath as he readjusts himself.
“Are you going to see the girl you’ve been talking to tonight?” He almost feels like a teenager getting ready for homecoming,
asking Kevin about who he’s going to dance with.
“Nah, I’m on to fresher waters, O-dog.”
“She dumped you?” Owen asks, tone deadpan.
Kevin shrugs. “Eh, it was never anything official.”
Owen stares at Kevin’s reflection in the mirror, watching him flatten his collar before he starts to play with his permed hair.
He’s always been jealous of Kevin’s ability to move on, to get what he needs out of a relationship and leave it without being weighed down by emotions.
It might’ve made things easier with Jacob if he knew how to move through life that way.
“What about you?” Kevin asks, switching places with Owen in front of the mirror. Owen squats on the floor, readying all of
his hair products in front of him. “Any sweethearts catching your eye?”
“Pfft, yeah, right.” Owen scoffs, scrunching the first of his serums into his hair, letting it absorb before he moves on to
the next.
“You could always find a rebound? I can give you the room for the night, do a little spooning with Jacob.”
“I’m good.”
“I could be your wingman,” Kevin offers. “I’ve been told I’m really good at it. I even helped my gay friend Patrick hook up
with a guy a few weeks ago.”
“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.
“Can I get another water?” Kaitlyn asks when the bartender comes back around. Then she turns her attention back to Owen. “So . . .
you just gonna hang out here all night?”
“I was thinking about getting up to pee in a second,” Owen says to her.
Reaching up to muss Owen’s hair, she asks, “Ah, I see. You’re freaking out.”
“I’m not freaking out,” Owen protests, watching the bartender slide Kaitlyn her glass. “Or, I mean, I really don’t know.”
“Hmm . . . well . . . what do you want, Owen?” Kaitlyn asks him.
He tries to answer her. Because he knows exactly what he wants. But he doesn’t say a word.
“Come on.” Kaitlyn stands up, holding her hand out as the music calms down. A lot of the dance floor is vacated, guests deciding
to take a break. There is an actual heat to the room thanks to all the activity. “Wanna dance?”