Chapter 2
The dining hall is beautiful, with white tablecloths, huge windows, and chandeliers that throw little rainbows across the walls.
Waiters in pressed uniforms carry trays of mimosas and Bloody Marys, and delicious-looking brunch treats.
My parents have claimed a table by the window, so at least I get to stare at open ocean while my mother tells the twins about her first day of med school, and they listen with rapt attention, as if she hasn’t told this story a hundred times.
I brought my book and it’s open to a page I’ve read twice without absorbing a word.
The hero is in some kind of cave, I think.
There are probably dragons. But three days into the cruise, all I can think about is Jai and Wyatt walking around the room naked.
Because after that first trip to the pool, they’d made a habit of it.
“It’s just so exciting,” my mom is saying, squeezing Lily’s hand across the table. “Both of you, moving on to the next chapter. It’s what we worked for, isn’t it?”
Lucy sips her orange juice and doesn’t look at me. Lily beams at our mom and leans in. “I can’t believe we’re going to the same med school as you, Mom!”
“That’s what this brunch celebration is about,” my mom says, holding up her mimosa. “Cheers to both of you!”
“Where are the boys?” my dad asks, checking his watch. He’s wearing his vacation watch, the one with the leather band that he only breaks out for special occasions. This brunch is apparently a special occasion. “It’s ten-thirty. They said they’d meet us.”
“They were out late,” Lily says, not meeting anyone’s eyes.
My mom’s eyebrows go up. “Out late doing what, exactly?”
Lucy and Lily exchange a look. It’s the look they’ve been exchanging since we were kids, the one that means you tell her and no, you tell her and eventually neither of them tells her anything.
“Just exploring the ship,” Lucy says. “You know how it is. They’ve been celebrating since we boarded.”
My dad grunts, low in his throat. It’s the noise he makes when he’s decided something is bullshit but doesn’t want to say so in a dining room full of strangers eating eggs Benedict.
I turn a page I haven’t read. The cave has gotten darker. The hero is probably about to fight something. Good for him.
The sound arrives before they do: laughter, loud and unsteady, cutting through the polite murmur of the dining room. Heads turn. My stomach drops.
Wyatt and Jai amble in, cheerful and loud and probably still a little hungover.
Wyatt has sunglasses on despite being indoors.
Jai’s hair stands straight up on one side, flat on the other, like he passed out mid-style and called it good.
They’re both wearing shorts and t-shirts, contrasting with the fancy outfits of the other brunch-goers.
“There they are,” Wyatt says to no one in particular, spotting our table. His voice carries. Several elderly couples pause their conversations to stare. “We made it! We are present for brunch!”
“Present and accounted for.” Jai salutes, nearly knocking over a water glass on the neighboring table. The woman sitting there pulls her purse closer to her body.
They collapse into the empty chairs across from me. Wyatt’s knee bumps the table and the silverware jumps. Jai reaches for a mimosa from a passing tray without asking. “Keep ’em coming, my man. We’ve had a night.”
My father’s face has gone still. My mother’s smile has not moved, which is worse. Lucy is staring at her plate. Lily looks like she might throw up.
“What kind of night?” Mom asks, in the voice she uses on difficult patients. Calm, measured, gathering data before the diagnosis.
Wyatt adjusts his sunglasses. “The kind where you learn things about yourself, Dr. Brown. For instance, I learned that the balcony dividers on this ship are not, in fact, climbable. At least not by me. Jai made it farther.”
“I made it to the railing,” Jai says, accepting a mimosa from the waiter. He drains half of it in one go. “Then security showed up with flashlights and it became a whole thing.”
Lucy closes her eyes. “You tried to climb onto our balcony?”
“Not tried,” Wyatt says. “Did. I was on that balcony. Briefly.”
“Very briefly,” Jai says. “Like, seconds. Then he fell into a planter.”
“I did not fall. I strategically descended into foliage.”
My lips twitch, and I stare down at my book, trying not to laugh, because my parents clearly do not want me to find these two amusing.
My father’s jaw is working. The muscle in his temple jumps. He sets his fork down with deliberate care. “You tried to break into my daughters’ room.”
“We knocked first,” Jai says, which is not the defense he thinks it is. “But they didn’t answer the door.”
“You were drunk,” Lily says.
“We were celebratory,” Wyatt says. “It’s a celebration cruise. We were celebrating.”
The table goes quiet. The kind of quiet that means something is about to break.
My mother has found my father’s hand under the table, which is what she does when she’s about to say something she knows will start a fight but she’s going to say it anyway because she’s right and everyone else is wrong.
I look at my croissant. It’s half-eaten, flaky and buttery. I pick it up. I stuff the entire remaining half into my mouth. It’s too big, and I immediately regret it, chewing for way too long while the argument continues around me.
“I’m going back to the room,” I mumble through a mouthful of pastry. I grab my book and stand up. “Not feeling great. Probably seasick. Bye. Sorry.”
I’m walking away before anyone can object. My cheeks are burning. Behind me, my mother’s voice shifts into the tone I imagine she uses when she’s yelling at the nursing staff for not following her instructions.
“Girls, we need to have a conversation about the kind of partners who—”
I’m out the door before she finishes the sentence. The hallway is cool and empty. I swallow the last of the croissant, which hurts going down, and press the elevator button with my thumb.
My heart is hammering like I just escaped some kind of real danger, and I’m not sure why. The elevator arrives. I step in, alone, and press 9.
The doors close on the sight of my own flushed face in the mirror, and the knowledge that whatever just happened at that table is nothing compared to what’s coming.
The room is an oven. I kick the door closed behind me and stand in the middle of the carpet, sweating through my shirt already. The AC is blowing warm air, a sad mechanical wheeze that does nothing but circulate the heat. I press my hand against the vent. Nothing but lukewarm nothing.
I drop onto the edge of the king bed. My book falls beside me, spine cracked, pages splayed.
The door bangs open twenty minutes later.
Wyatt comes through first, his face flushed and his eyes red-rimmed.
He looks like he’s been crying, which is a sentence I never thought I’d form about a man his size.
Behind him, Jai is quieter, his usual swagger gone, his movements careful and contained, like he’s walking on broken glass.
“Your mom threw champagne at me,” Wyatt says, holding his wet shirt away from his skin. “Because I didn’t have a five-year plan?”
“Is that why you’re all wet?” I ask.
“Lucy joined in. I guess five-year plans are big in your family?”
Jai drops onto the sofa by the balcony. “At least you weren’t called dumb. Lily was only dating me because she thought Indian guys were all smart.”
“Fuck that,” Wyatt groans. “You are smart!”
“She said it like it was a compliment. ‘I thought you’d be focused, Jai. I thought you’d have direction.’” He mimics her voice as he says it. “She wanted a doctor. Not a guy who spends six hours a day playing golf.”
Wyatt kicks off his shoes, then his socks, then peels his champagne-soaked shirt over his head and drops it on the floor.
His board shorts follow. He’s standing in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs that cling to every inch of him, and I am looking at the ceiling, at the wall, at my hands, anywhere but the thick outline of his cock straining against the cotton, heavy and full.
“That family sucks.” He turns and blinks at me. “Sorry, Cade, I’m just upset. Your parents are very nice people.”
“Just a little demanding. I mean, we just graduated! They don’t know if we’re going to have amazing careers!” Jai says.
Wyatt flops onto the bed beside me, face-down, and lets out a groan that vibrates through the mattress. “She said I was fun for college. Fun for college. Like I’m a fucking spring break story she’ll tell her future husband. ‘There was this farm boy, honey, he was so dumb but his dick was—’”
“Wyatt,” Jai says, warning.
“Sorry.” His voice is muffled by the pillow. “I’m drunk and sad and I smell like a bar floor.”
I stare at both of them, feeling seen in a way I’m not sure I ever have. “They hate my major too, if it helps.”
Wyatt sits up. “What? I thought you were a math genius!”
I blush. “I mean, maybe. Kind of. But they can’t see how majoring in math is a ‘real career track.’ Like what’s so wrong with going into research or becoming a professor?”
“And what’s so wrong with wanting to coach golf for a living?” Jai asks.
“Exactly! It’s an honorable career. You’d be helping kids and stuff!” Wyatt agrees. “Plus you were in those commercials, right? So you have a trust fund.”
“Commercials?”
Jai grimaces. “I was a child actor, most famous for toothpaste.” He does the little jingle and I burst out laughing.
“I loved that commercial. I think I had a crush on you as a kid.” Oh shit, I can’t believe I said that. I slap a hand over my mouth.
Wyatt snickers. “So you were looking at my dick the other day.”
“I’m sorry! I…”
“It’s okay, man. I’ve had gay friends before. No harm no foul.”
I hesitate. “I’m not actually sure. I’m kind of a virgin.”
Jai laughs. “I mean if you want to ogle us while you’re figuring things out, we don’t mind. I personally enjoy ogling.”
“Right?” Wyatt asks. “Me too. Gives me a nice boost of confidence. And I need all of that I can get after what your mother said about me.”
I’m blushing so hard you can probably see me from space, but there’s nowhere to go. “What else would cheer you up?”
“I’ve got it.” Jai dives for the phone and dials a number. “Room service? Yeah, we’re in 9114. I want brownie fudge sundaes. As many as you can bring. Surprise me.” He hangs up. “Ice cream fixes everything.”
“Are you really that sad? Like were you guys in love with them?”
Jai tilts his head. “I don’t know. Ask me when the ice cream gets here.”
“We might need ice cream just to survive this heat,” Wyatt groans.
“Seriously. It’s a thousand degrees in here.
Why is it a thousand degrees?” Jai pulls his shirt off.
One fluid motion, arms up, fabric gone, and now he’s standing in his shorts and nothing else, his chest bare and perfect, a body that belongs in an ad for something expensive and unnecessary.
He unbuckles his belt, and I stop breathing.
“AC’s broken,” I say. “I called maintenance. They said they’d send someone.”
I’m sweating through my shirt. The fabric is stuck to my back, to my chest. I hesitate, then pull it over my head.
The air hits my skin and it’s still hot but it’s something.
I keep my shorts on and walk over to the sliding glass door, and yank it open.
Unfortunately, the sea breeze I hoped for is nearly as warm as the room.
Wyatt flops on his back. His boxer briefs have ridden low on his hips, and the waistband cuts across the hard planes of his stomach.
His cock is a thick ridge under the black cotton, the head pushing against the seam, the outline of it clear as day, the shape of it, the weight.
My eyes fix there for one second too long before I wrench them away.
Room service arrives with a cart. Three brownie sundaes, whipped cream, chocolate sauce, the whole disaster. The waiter doesn’t blink at three half-naked guys in a room that smells like regret and cheap vodka. He’s seen worse. He’s on a cruise ship.
We end up on the bed. I don’t know how it happens.
One minute I’m sitting on the edge, the next Wyatt has pulled himself up to sitting and Jai has climbed onto the mattress cross-legged, and suddenly we’re all on the king bed, knees touching, spoons digging into melting ice cream, and I am between two nearly-naked men whose girlfriends just dumped them and whose bodies are six inches from mine on either side.
Wyatt’s thigh is pressed against my leg.
His skin is hot. Jai’s shoulder brushes mine every time he reaches for more whipped cream.
The ice cream is too sweet and too cold and it’s dripping down my wrist and I don’t care because Wyatt’s cock is right there, right next to my hip, the heat of it coming through the thin cotton of his boxers.
“Order more,” Wyatt says, through a mouthful of brownie. “We’re not done being sad.”
“I’ve decided not to be sad,” Jai says. “I’m a disaster, but I have a trust fund and a future in golf. Nothing can stop me now! I’m liberated.”
“To liberation,” Wyatt says, raising his spoon. “To no one asking us if we’re considering law school!”
“To following our dreams without judgment.”
They clink spoons. Ice cream drips on the comforter. Neither of them notices.
“You should have an epic vacation,” I say. The words come out before I can stop them. “Show them what fun is really like. Do all the stupid stuff they wouldn’t let you do.”
Wyatt’s head turns. His blue eyes find mine, bloodshot and suddenly alert. “What kind of stupid stuff?”
“I don’t know. Whatever you want. That’s the point.”
Jai sets his empty bowl on the nightstand. “He’s right. Why are we moping? We’re on a fucking cruise. In the Bahamas. With a balcony and a jacuzzi tub and—” He looks at me. “And a third roommate who is apparently the only one in this room with a functioning brain cell.”
“That’s not a high bar,” I say.
Wyatt laughs. It’s real, sudden, bursting out of him like he forgot he was supposed to be sad. “He’s got jokes. The quiet one’s got jokes.”
“Order more ice cream,” Jai says, reaching for the phone. “We’re celebrating.”
“Celebrating what?” I ask.
“Being dumb and free,” Wyatt says.