Chapter Thirteen A Loving and Healthy Relationship Between a Man and His Pastry #2
Owen doesn’t bother replying to him. “I . . . I don’t think that I would’ve regretted it either.” Resting his head against
the back of the couch, Owen cranes his neck to look at Jacob.
“You don’t think?” Jacob asks.
Owen ignores him. “I don’t think that I’m any good at being your ex.”
The words feel heavy as he says them, but with their weight comes a relief that Owen has been searching for ever since that
final phone call, when he told Jacob that they needed to end things.
“I’ve tried,” Owen tells him. “I’ve been trying, for months now. Even before this stupid trip. I’ve been trying to picture
you as someone who I’m not allowed to think about anymore, not allowed to love, and I . . . I can’t, Jacob.”
He swallows.
“I’m sorry.”
Jacob stares. “For what?”
Owen doesn’t say anything, because he doesn’t have an answer for him. He just wants Jacob to know that he’s sorry.
“My day begins with me having to remind myself that I can’t text you good morning,” Jacob says. “Every time I manage to make a meal that
doesn’t look like it’ll give me salmonella, I want to send you a photo. There’s a stray cat outside my apartment building
that everyone takes turns feeding, and I’ve wanted to call you about him for months because he’s the most beautiful calico you’ve ever seen in your entire life, and he’s so sweet.” Jacob says the words with
this almost melancholic excitement, like he’s been waiting to tell Owen about these things for so long. “I want to call you
at the end of the day and tell you everything, and I want to hear everything about your day and listen to your voice, and
hear your laugh and . . .”
Jacob lets out a low, heavy breath.
“Every single day it’s getting harder and harder to not wake up next to you.”
Owen blinks back tears, turning away from the man he loves, the man whose heart he broke. The floor underneath Owen shifts,
and he has to remind himself that he’s on a cruise ship, and his brain isn’t playing a trick on him.
“Will you say something?” Jacob pleads, his voice cracking as he forces a chuckle, and Owen’s heart breaks. “Because I’m starting
to feel really embarrassed.”
“Don’t, I . . .” Owen swallows. “I love you, Jacob. I’m still in love with you. And I don’t think I’ll ever get to a place
where I don’t love you. I don’t ever want to know what that feels like.”
“So . . . what do we do?” Jacob asks. “Do you think we—”
Owen stops him with a hand. “Let’s just . . . let’s not think about what comes after this trip. I’m sick of overthinking things.”
“That sounds dangerous,” Jacob says. “And pretty stupid. And really surprising coming from you.”
“Yeah.” Owen nods, agreeing. “It does.”
Owen fully expects Jacob to stand up, to say that this was another mistake and that they’re just tired, that they should just
go to bed. But he doesn’t; instead he asks, “Can I kiss you? I really wanted to last night.”
“Yes,” Owen says, without an ounce of hesitation in his voice. Because he wants this just as badly.
Jacob leans in, and Owen follows him like it’s muscle memory, tilting his head to the side as he meets Jacob’s soft lips.
He tastes like the Sour Patch Kids he was eating during the movie. Sour and then sweet. It feels so right, so natural, the
way he slots in next to Jacob, Owen letting his hand fall to Jacob’s thigh, while Jacob’s comes up to hold Owen’s cheek.
It’s chaste, but that doesn’t stop Jacob from letting out a soft whimper as Owen accidentally grinds against him.
“Sorry,” Owen breathes out heavily, pulling away for just a moment before he goes back in. Jacob lets out another whine, Owen
drinking in the sound, the butterflies in his stomach fluttering eagerly.
He’s not sure who pulls away first, but they’re left sitting there, staring at each other, both of them a little out of breath.
“What?” Owen asks.
“You’re so beautiful,” Jacob whispers, brushing Owen’s hair behind his ears.
“Stop.” He wants to curl in on himself, to vanish from this moment completely.
“But it’s true.” Jacob says the words so effortlessly, so honestly.
“I . . .” Owen takes a breath, his lips wet from the kiss, then it’s his turn to ask. “Can I kiss you again?”
“Yes.” Jacob smiles at him, showing Owen that gap between his two front teeth as Owen takes his cheeks in his hands, and their
lips meet again. Owen lets himself fall forward, careful of how and where he places his body. Jacob’s hands slide down Owen’s
body, down to his waist where he holds Owen against him. Jacob lifts his leg ever so slightly, his thigh digging against Owen’s crotch.
“Whoa . . .” Owen lets out a soft gasp. “Hold on there, cowboy.”
“Sorry.” Jacob swallows. “I kinda got caught up in the moment.”
“That’s okay . . .” Owen smiles at him. “I don’t think I want to go that far tonight.”
Jacob nods enthusiastically. “That’s probably the smartest idea either one of us has had all week.”
“But if we hang around out here,” Owen starts to say, dragging out the words, “we’re going to get caught.”
“You wanna go to my room?” Jacob asks innocently, looking at Owen almost like a puppy. “We don’t have to . . . you know, do
anything, I just . . . I want to keep kissing you.”
“I want to keep kissing you too,” Owen admits. “And I want to sleep next to you again.”
“Yeah?” Jacob grins like an idiot.
And Owen smiles right back. “Yeah, I do.”
Jacob lets him fall back onto the couch comfortably before he stands, offering Owen his hand.
“Thank you.” Owen lets Jacob help him stand.
They can’t keep their hands off each other as they navigate to Jacob’s bedroom.
More than once, Jacob almost trips, leaning down to kiss Owen, pulling him in by his cheeks.
It takes everything in Owen not to jump into the man’s arms. With the bedroom door closed behind them, Owen pushes Jacob until his knees hit the bed, and he falls to the edge, staring up at Owen with those big, beautiful eyes.
For a brief moment, Owen just wants to stand there, appreciate how desperate Jacob seems for his affection.
He reaches out with a hand, brushing Jacob’s bearded cheek with his palm.
“Tell me what you want, Jacob,” Owen whispers.
“I want to kiss you,” Jacob says, his voice almost pleading. “I want to hold you to my chest, keep you close to me tonight.
I want to share a bed with you.”
Carefully, he extends his knees to saddle himself in Jacob’s lap, throwing his arms over Jacob’s shoulders. Their lips press
together, mouths opening and tongues sliding in next to each other’s as Jacob’s hands skim Owen’s waist, pulling Owen down
as Jacob falls back onto the bed. “I want that too.”
Neither one of them sleeps all that much that night. When they aren’t making out, they talk about nothing important at all,
and then Owen will lean in to kiss Jacob again. Or Jacob will pull Owen closer, pressing their lips together. And for hours,
they don’t think about the consequences of their actions, the repercussions they’re going to face in the morning, or the conversations
that they’re going to have to have at some point.
They just allow themselves to get lost in each other.