Chapter 2 The Taste of Him #2
Sivan’s mouth is hanging open as he stands from his stool. “I just found out about this! How does that make me less serious? Here, take my card, and charge me the same. Vincent isn’t supposed to be paying for drinks while he’s here, my father will kill me if he thinks I’m not being a good host.”
“My dad will love this,” she says. Once she taps the cards on the machine, she hands them back to us.
“We gotta go,” Sivan says. “We’ll probably be back later tonight after meetings.”
“Good, I’m sure Jenny will be looking for you, Sivan. Her and what’s-her-face from your ship, Vincent? The girl that’s always hanging around?”
I shrug, pretending not to know who she’s talking about.
Sivan tilts his head at me. “She’s talking about Harlow, come on, you know who she meant.”
Hearing him say Harlow’s name instantly makes me feel nauseous. I don’t want him to ask me about what happened again.
Sivan hangs his arm around my neck and places my hat on his head. I take his from the bar and wear it.
“Seriously?” Ersin says. “You two had one drink each, you’re not drunk enough to mix up your hats.” We swap hats back and laugh, quickly heading for the door.
The air feels better outside, I didn’t realize how stuffy it was in there.
There’s not too much time left before meetings start, so we’re walking fast toward my father’s ship.
The sounds of music and laughter can be heard as we approach from the end of the dock.
Since meetings don’t include the entire crew, this is a good time for them to kick back and relax.
Besides, our fathers won’t be on deck until later tonight, so, the crew can let loose even more than usual, which is why there are a bunch of women aboard that don’t belong here.
Sivan blocks my path once we step on deck, standing firmly in front of me. “Hey, I’ve been talking to you for five minutes and you haven’t said anything. What’s going on with you? Your mood has been all over the place since I got here.”
“Oh, really? I didn’t hear you say anything.
Nothing is going on with me. I’m fine.” I try to step around him, and he moves in front of me again, placing his hands on my shoulders.
Although I want to pull away from him, I stand completely still almost frozen in place.
I can’t keep saying nothing is wrong—he knows me too well.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I tilt my head back in annoyance before I even check the message. “Fuck, I’m coming. I swear if this is Matteo telling me to hurry up, I’m gonna lose it. We’re not even late, yet.”
Sivan drops an eyebrow at me but keeps his hands on my shoulders.
I pull my phone out and see a text from Matteo: Meetings moved to 9am tomorrow. Try not to destroy the port.
I turn the phone toward Sivan and half smile.
He reads the text and nods, while giving my shoulders a firm squeeze.
His touch brings back that feeling again, a feeling I can’t explain.
“Alright, that’s a good thing, because I’m gonna give you two choices.
Something is bothering you, and I want to know what it is.
So, I propose we either go and steal some of the good rum, then we head back to Pudgy’s and find us a couple of girls, or we drink the good rum, and we talk like a couple of girls ourselves, in the back of the storeroom where no one can find us.
Your choice, but there is no third option. ”
What am I supposed to say to avoid lying?
Am I supposed to say that I was having trouble getting hard with Harlow until I pictured him?
Until I thought of him? I can’t fucking say that.
I absolutely cannot. Saying something like that would make me sound like I was…
“Rum, then we’ll find girls,” I say, and shove him back a bit.
The two of us race toward the storage room on the lower deck.
Our fathers have probably already left for the night after cancelling meetings, or they’re in the office, either way, we shouldn’t run into them.
Sprinting toward the storeroom, I feel happy with Sivan next to me, but at the same time I’m nervous to get too drunk because I don’t want to say the wrong thing.
Oh shit…
“Hello, Sivan,” Harlow says with a smile, rounding the corner. She’s walking toward us quickly, coming from the direction of my room. Maybe she was looking for me.
Sivan lets out a groan then greets her. “Ah yes, Harlow, how are you? Sorry, don’t want to be rude, but it’s my turn with this one, and I understand that you two spent some quality time together earlier, so cheerio, dear,” he says, while pulling me by the hand past her.
“Oh, Vincent, it’s not like you to kiss and tell. Am I to expect a marriage proposal soon?” she calls out from behind us.
Sivan stops in his tracks and turns toward her. “Why would he propose to you? He’s not even going out with you.” He pulls my hand again, and we continue toward the rum.
“Thanks,” I say.
“No problem,” he mutters, releasing his grip on me. He looks kind of pissed, though. “The rum is…this door, right?”
“No, not that—” I say, but it’s too late.
Sivan’s face is aghast, as the two of us are faced with the sight of Sam, the cook, asleep naked in his bed.
He’s a large hairy man whose body overwhelms the mattress.
“Shut the door,” I mouth silently. Sivan does as told, and we back away slowly.
I playfully smack him when we’re in the clear.
“Not this door, it’s the next one. Didn’t you hear me? ”
“Well, yes, I heard you, but the damn door was already open by then. God, my eyes, Vincent. I’ll never be clean again,” he says with a laugh.
“Well, yes, your eyes, but the smell was worse than anything.”
“How can you say that?” he asks as he opens the correct door.
I point to the door plate. “See? Storage, it says so right there. It does not say it on any other door. Remember for next time, would you?”
The two of us walk in and toss our coats and hats onto a barrel beside the door. Sivan sits in front of a large stack of rum crates and smiles up at me. “That’s better,” he sighs.
I grab a bottle from one of the top crates and open it while taking a seat beside him. “You first,” I say, passing him the bottle.
He takes a quick sip, then hands it back to me. “That’s good rum,” he says with a smile, while wiping his mouth.
I pause before bringing the bottle to my lips.
His mouth was just on this…is it okay that I drink from it, too?
Wait, why am I questioning this? We’ve always shared bottles before.
This is no different. I bring the bottle to my lips, and that strange feeling comes over me again, as I sip from it, but the feeling is stronger now.
It’s like a tingling sensation that’s spreading throughout my entire body.
It’s something I’ve never felt before today…
but what exactly am I feeling and why do I want more of it?
I pass Sivan the bottle again and watch his mouth as he takes a drink.
I can’t peel my eyes away from his lips.
He sighs loudly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“My father is bugging the hell out of me these days. Wants me to get married next year. Even brought up old Jenny. Can you believe that?” he asks while passing the bottle back.
He looks completely exhausted, now that I get a good look at him. “Jenny? Why would he bring up Jenny? She wasn’t even serious, was she?”
“No more serious than Harlow.”
“Well, Harlow is different. I mean, her mom is basically a mother to the entire crew. It’s not like I can toss her overboard or leave her in port just because I’m not interested in her.
No matter how many times I tell her how I feel, she doesn’t care, but she knows we aren’t going to get married,” I say, somewhat doubting my own words.
He takes the bottle from my lips as I barely finish a drink.
“Does she?” he asks, dropping his right eyebrow at me.
“That girl definitely thinks you’re getting married.
And I’m sure you will. Not me, though. I’m never getting married.
Some stupid girl cackling and whining all day in my ear, nagging me, taking fifty percent of everything I own, forget it.
Besides, can you imagine being with just one person for your entire life?
Oh, come on Vincent, that’s not for me. It never will be. ”
Never getting married… He’s never getting married. Why did him saying that make me feel weird? That’s nothing new, he’s always said he’d never get married.
“Hello…Vincent?” he says, waving his hand in front of my face.
“Oh, right, sorry. Yeah. You, getting married? No. I can’t imagine that either.”
“Where did you go?” he chuckles. “You were quiet there for about three minutes, just staring off.”
“Three minutes? You do this all the time. Come on, it was probably ten seconds. You’re so dramatic.”
He exhales loudly and leans his head back, letting out a large yawn.
“Sivan, have you ever not been able to, you know…” I say, before I can stop the words from coming out.