Unexpected Gift

Unexpected Gift

One extra suitcase—more expensive than his own—lay incongruous among his mismatched luggage. Well, people made mistakes. He read the stateroom designation tag attached to the owner’s label and had to squint to decipher the scrawl: Across the hall, it looked like, and small wonder the porter had read 8 for 0. It belonged to a Mr. Christopher Mainwaring, according to the scribble on the tag. Not a big deal to take it to the man, he thought with a shrug, and definitely not worth bothering the already overworked portering staff about. The ship’s massive engines shuddered as they started up, the horn blaring briefly before the intercom chimed and the captain began his announcements. It was nothing that hadn’t already been covered in the literature that had arrived with his tickets, so he had no qualms about returning the suitcase instead of listening. While the captain told the passengers about the ship’s medical facilities, he knocked on the door opposite his own and waited.

Call and check on dad, he reminded himself, and make sure mom knows where all of the Christmas presents are. He’d written it down, but the paper had probably fallen off the fridge and found itself a new home in the vacuum.

“Come in,” a resonant voice called out, firm and with a nice English accent—at least it sounded English.

Josh opened the door to a tall man wearing a white shirt and khaki pants with his back to him, unpacking his things. “Uh, hello?”

The man turned, eyes wide for a moment before his eyebrows knitted together. Caramel brown hair was swept neatly back from firm, straight brows and clear, hazel-colored eyes. An attractive package overall—slim in build, with straight shoulders and lips that were neither too thin nor too plump. His throat and the dip between his collarbones were exposed where his top button was unfastened. Josh wondered if he had any idea how good he looked and bit back a reflexive urge to comment on it: that was not why he had come on this cruise, and for all he knew, this guy didn’t swing his way anyway. It felt like bubbles were popping in his stomach. Josh closed his eyes for a moment and hoped this guy didn’t notice. The last thing he needed was to jump feet first into something disastrous. Or feet first into something he would make disastrous. God. He could be such an idiot sometimes when it came to a good-looking man. This one would be just like the last three—if he were even gay; it would be a whole different kind of disastrous if he weren’t. Repeating mistakes was his favorite mistake, and he liked making them with men who wore ‘in control’ like the clothes on their back. This cruise was supposed to be a way to get away, find perspective. He took a deep breath as the other spoke.

“Oh, hello. I’m sorry; I was expecting a steward.”

Definitely not a steward, Josh thought. And the man had already noticed his baggage was missing, obviously. Josh set the suitcase down and looked up to see its owner smiling. It was a nice smile, the sort that he’d make every effort to see as often as possible if this man were his partner. It was welcoming, leaving crinkles at the edges of his eyes. His lips quirked up just so, kind of endearingly lopsided, and his teeth were straighter than he would’ve expected from an Englishman. He found it more attractive: he wasn’t too perfect. Gah. No, he couldn’t think like that. He needed to get back to the reason he was there.

“Looks like they mixed up our suitcases. This was in my cabin.”

The stranger smiled. “Thank you for bringing it; that’s why I was expecting a steward. I hope you didn’t have to drag it far.” His tone was appreciative.

“Just across the hall, so not a problem.” Josh smiled back.

“Even so, it’s very good of you. Let me buy you a drink before dinner to thank you.”

Josh opened his mouth, then reset his brain. “Thanks, that’d be nice. I believe I’m at the Captain’s table tonight.” He wasn’t sure why he’d said what table he was at. Just talking for the sake of it, he suspected. The drink offer seemed... a little too thankful. Josh wondered if perhaps Christopher shared his proclivities—it was hard to tell; he knew that what some considered ‘homosexual behavior’ didn’t always mean the other person was gay. He’d seen enough BBC America to know the English had certain mannerisms, speech patterns and body language that read as gay, but were in fact just good manners.

Laughter filled the room. “So am I, as it happens.” The man held out his hand. “Christopher Mainwaring.”

Huh, it wasn’t pronounced the same way it was spelled. Christopher said ‘Mannering’. Josh accepted Christopher’s hand and shook it firmly. “Joshua Matheson. Nice to meet you. Say about seven?”

“That sounds good to me. The piano lounge bar?”

“Yeah, sounds good.” He realized he’d just echoed Christopher. Josh bit his lip, hoping he didn’t sound like an idiot. Maybe he was just reading too much into the drink. He could just be a friendly man; he seemed to be alone, like Josh, and maybe he felt like company. Just take it for what it is, he thought. “See you then.” He smiled.

Christopher nodded and walked him out of the cabin.

Josh returned to his room and unpacked his things. Christmas in the tropical Virgin Islands—already off to a good start. A better start than he’d built up in his mind. At least he wasn’t home, in a cold winter where people stockpiled bread and milk at the first sign of snow. He shook his head; he didn’t want to think about home. This trip was his Christmas present to himself, and he planned to enjoy it. If that included having drinks with Christopher and— Josh shook his head and shoved the inappropriate ideas of other things he could enjoy with Christopher away.

He needed to shower and clean up before they met up for drinks.

And check on his dad.

***

Josh wiped the mirror off and looked at himself. The scar on his right cheekbone was a little red against his lightly tanned skin; his brown hair and eyes were almost the same shade with his hair wet. He reached for the hairdryer and turned it on, combing his fingers through the short mess to tame it into something more presentable than the shower-post-sex look it had now. It parted naturally and didn’t look half bad when he was done. His mind drifted through shaving. The rest of the family were probably talking–still, again–about his decision to go off on a cruise alone for Christmas rather than hole up in his parents’ house with them for the fortnight; he thought his sister Serena might understand his thinking, but he didn’t hold out much hope for anyone else. It wasn’t that he objected to his family: he loved them dearly, but he had wanted, just for once, to spend a holiday not being sighed over and encouraged to believe that the right girl was out there somewhere. Or guy, depending on the relative talking to him; most of them were fairly accepting of his orientation, but they all seemed to have trouble getting the idea that he wasn’t in any hurry to get into another relationship.

Once dressed for dinner, he set out, paying more attention to his surroundings than he had on the way to his stateroom when he first embarked. Garlands and tinsel hung along the halls, threaded with twinkling lights; everywhere he looked, a reminder of the holidays hung, tinkled or glowed. His nieces and nephews would be stringing up popcorn on the Christmas tree and trying to sneak a look at presents before Christmas Day. There’d be cookies and milk and a bright tree that his cat would be climbing before nightfall. His dog Duke would be drinking as much water from the tree stand as possible, generally making a mess of everything, and probably even opening a present or two early for the family.

Josh smiled and ran his hands down the front of his tuxedo. His tie had been straight when he left the room, but he checked his appearance in one of the windows as he wandered by, just in case. Everything looked good. No, this wasn’t a date and he didn’t have to look perfect for it. Josh laughed at himself and carried on. Christopher was just a man he was meeting for a drink for doing a good thing; a friendly thank-you, no different than his grandmother inviting the kids who brought her wandering dog home in for lemonade and cookies.

He wandered around, appreciating the lack of traffic and horns blaring. No police sirens or loud bass thumped in the background, and for miles, all he could see was water, with a receding coastline behind the ship’s wake. A fresh breeze of ocean air slid across his face, warm and clean. It didn’t take long to find the piano lounge. He arrived in time to join Christopher as he ordered a Martini. When Christopher noticed him, he asked what Josh would like to drink.

“Bottle of Heineken, please.”

Christopher nodded to the bartender and asked that the drinks be charged to his room. “Settling in all right?” he asked. Gone was the shirt that exposed his neck; Christopher had also changed into a tux, no doubt tailored to fit every inch of him in the most flattering way possible. He didn’t look out of place in the piano lounge; if anything, he seemed to feel at home in his surroundings. It wasn’t just his clothes; Christopher fit into the surroundings like he spent his days in fancy lounges sipping Martinis, while Josh was more comfortable if he had his Lay-Z Boy and a cold beer. Christopher had an air of quiet self-assurance that Josh didn’t dare attempt to replicate.

“Oh, yeah. First time. You?”

“Mm. I don’t normally go away for holidays; I don’t normally take holidays at all at this time of year. You?” He angled his body toward Josh on the stool.

“Me, either. I thought it would nice to try something new.”

Christopher nodded and sipped his drink. “I take it from your accent that you’re from one of the southern states.”

“That obvious, is it?” He chuckled and hoped he didn’t sound like a hick. Too many years of hearing how stupid southerners were just because of their accents made him wary. He tried to make his speech neutral to avoid the stereotypes. “Lexington, North Carolina. And you’re English, right?”

“Guilty as charged. Home counties.”

Josh frowned. “Home counties?”

“Ah, an historic term to identify the group of counties encircling but not including London. Though I supposed I shouldn’t really apply it to Hampshire; Hampshire only received the designation in 1965.”

Josh nodded and took a swig from his beer. Christopher had only lightly pronounced the ‘h’ and said ‘an.’ “I’ve never been to England. Always thought about going. This is as close as I’ll get for a while, I think.” He chuckled. He knew the British Virgin Islands wouldn’t be anything like England, but it was still British.

Christopher smiled. Yeah, definitely handsome, Josh thought, as Christopher said, “I doubt there’ll be much similarity.”

“Well, yeah. This is my first vacation in years and it was to get away from my family.” He waited for Christopher to show disapproval or pity—of which he wanted neither.

Surprise registered on Christopher’s face instead. “Really?”

“It’s not that bad. There’s no, uh, ‘community’ to speak of in Lexington. I just wanted to be alone, have a little fun, and not have my mom badgering me about why I’m not with Nate any more and my dad reminding me that there’s still a good gal out there for me and I can give him another set of grandkids.”

“Ouch.” The sympathy was welcome. But he had just outed himself to this stranger and realized if he wasn’t careful, he might offend other passengers. It wasn’t a gay cruise, and even though Josh was comfortable in his own skin, he knew some people didn’t like the idea, or thought it was contagious. Josh watched Christopher’s throat as he swallowed some of his Martini, then remembered to look up when he started speaking again. “I would have been working. I was, to a degree, bullied into taking this holiday.”

“I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. I thought somewhere warm would be nice. Why did you need to bullied into it?” He left out that he just needed a break from his family in general. To the inexperienced ear, it could sound like he held a grudge for looking after his parents from time to time.

Christopher’s laughter was warm like orange. “Because I wouldn’t have taken it otherwise. Christmas is one of my busiest times of year. I’m an organist, among other things: of the seventy two hours from Christmas Eve to Boxing Day, I probably spend a good sixty of them in churches, and eight or ten in transit between churches. I tend to crash on Boxing Day and wake up on New Year’s Eve.”

Josh raised an eyebrow; the hours Christopher worked were insane. “Sounds a little selfless... or masochistic.”

“I find it rewarding, actually. Not financially, obviously: the pay is terrible,” he added with good humor.

“Are you religious, then?” Josh asked, thinking there were only so many reasons someone would spend so much time in churches. He sipped his beer, tapping a finger along to the familiar sound of Jingle Bells. It really didn’t work as a lounge song.

Christopher gave a wry smile. “Not particularly. I’m a musician first and foremost. Apparently this means that I have a spiritual side, but I can’t honestly claim to have encountered it.” He shrugged. “Ironically, I got into church music for financial reasons when I was ten.”

Fascinating, Josh thought, watching his companion. He smiled, imagining himself doing something similar and couldn’t see it, not in his little city. “I stopped going to church when I came out of the closet.” He shook his head, mordantly amused. “I was invited to leave the congregation. Ever had anything like that happen to you?” Something about Christopher was comfortable. It was like he’d known him for ages and they were old friends catching up.

Christopher shook his head. “Never. If they invited me to leave, they’d have to have Mrs. Pinsentt, who is not only arthritic in the fingers but has never mastered the pedal board, and is constitutionally incapable of managing a gaggle of choristers.” He rolled his eyes. “And of course, you know what they say about public schools.”

No, he didn’t. Unless he meant public school boys tended to be homosexual. “Sorry if I said anything offensive. I was just going with my gut on that one.”

Christopher smiled again, apparently amused. “No offense taken. You’re closer to right than wrong. I’m, ah, non-practising, one might say.”

Josh nodded. “Same here. For a while, anyway. Didn’t think I’d meet a kindred spirit on this cruise, I’ll admit that.”

“Kindred spirit?”

Josh looked at him. “Guys like us tend to take the rainbow cruises.”

“The what?” His expression was blank.

Ah, yes, Josh realized, he really is a bit oblivious. “The gay cruises.”

Light red tinted Christopher’s cheeks. “I hadn’t realized there were such things. I’ve never really participated in ‘the scene.’”

“Oh, I’ve never been on one. And there isn’t a ‘scene’ in Lexington. Reckon you’re lucky not to get lynched.”

Christopher hummed his understanding. “I will admit that I suspect that an element of the tolerance—or lack of intolerance—I encounter arises from my inactivity in that sphere. I don’t exactly make a secret of it, but I can’t imagine that there would be no comment at all if I were to start trumpeting it from it from the ramparts. My day job is teaching in a boys’ school, after all.” He snorted. “Nice, middle-class boys from Hampshire don’t.”

“I’d hardly call you a boy.”

Christopher looked perplexed for a moment. “Idiom. My apologies.”

Josh nodded. “Which idiom? Lynched?”

“No, the phrase about nice, middle-class boys. I wasn’t describing myself as a boy; it was just a turn of phrase to indicate that young people of my particular background do not tend to become involved in the scene. When I was of the sort of age to be drawn into it, my cultural background would have held me away. Not that I was actually aware of it in any case, as far as I can recall.” He shrugged.

“Oh, sorry. Different language, but the same.” He chuckled. “I suppose if this meeting is anything to go by, maybe I’ll get used to it.” Josh grinned.

Christopher smiled, and warmth settled in his Josh’s chest.

“My physics and philosophy colleagues lead me to believe that all things are possible.”

Josh beamed. “So I’ve heard.” He finished his beer before it got too warm. He set the bottle down and the barman swept it away and provided a fresh one before Josh could say a word. “What’s it like teaching?”

Christopher paused and took a thoughtful-looking sip from his drink. “That’s actually quite difficult to answer. There’s a lot more paperwork than there used to be, even in the public schools. And yes, that means something different in England: the schools attended by the majority of the population are comprehensive; then there are the grammar schools, which are usually but not invariably fee-paying and may or may not require pupils to have passed the eleven plus. There are private schools, which don’t tend to have academic entry requirements except for scholarship pupils and are always fee-paying, and then there are ‘public’ schools, which are like private schools, only somewhat more exclusive.” He laughed when Josh stared blankly at him. “It’s a relic of a much more class-driven society.” He shrugged. “I suppose there’s a degree to which teaching is teaching, but I can’t imagine that any teacher in one of the struggling comps in a ‘deprived area’ would be willing to agree that my day at work is anything like his.”

Josh chuckled, thinking about the school he had attended versus the private ones and knew it had to be a different world by comparison; anyone was able to attend his school as long as they’d lived in the right area—or if they had papers documenting that they lived in the area. Some parents would try to move their kids around like pieces on a Monopoly board to get the best education for free. Josh had been in the same school district his whole life. “I imagine so. I don’t know how people do it. I don’t have the patience for it. I like my parents’ bookstore; the books don’t argue or cheat or anything like that.”

Christopher chuckled. “Cheating doesn’t tend to be a problem in my classrooms, and it’s practically impossible in music in any case. I suppose the demographics and teacher:pupil ratio in my school keep the argument problems down. That, or I just have spectacular people skills,” he added drolly.

“I could see that.”

That lovely smile Josh had come to like came back as Christopher drank his Martini. “So you work in a bookshop?”

“Mm. Matheson Books. It’s in the city center: It’s like a quad and tucked into a corner of one of them in the town square. There’s a sewing shop next door. A cat lives in the store that my sister named Chester. No idea why, but she roams and the customers like her. Apparently she adds charm.”

“Sounds very much like the dog that haunts my local pub.”

Pleased by the easy progress so far, Josh probed for more information. Just making a new friend, that’s all. “Tell me more about Hampshire.” He smiled, amused by a dog haunting a local pub; his imagination gave way to a scruffy dog that looked no better than the patrons served inside.

Considering, Christopher toyed with the stem of his glass. “It’s one of the more affluent areas, I suppose. County town is Winchester, which used to be the capital of England. Very much girls in pearls and ladies who lunch territory.”

So, the dog couldn’t be scruffy, not if the people had any sort of hearts. A dog wouldn’t hang around somewhere he wasn’t being taken care of anyway.

“Ahh. I see. Ever get bored of that?” Josh would; he’d have to make up things to do to keep himself from going insane with the monotony of it. Then again, the bookstore was pretty monotonous, but at least new books and people came in, providing him a fresh dose of socialization and entertainment. There were perks to being the inherited owner; pre-release copies came to him from time to time, even if he didn’t necessarily like the content. It was a way to spread the word and help market the books.

Christopher seemed surprised by the question. “I don’t really have time to get bored. Between the day job and the evening job and the weekend job, the odd patches of boredom are a refreshing change.”

An odd hope that Christopher was bored with him bubbled up—being bored meant he was relaxed and actually enjoying Josh’s company. He wanted to ask if Christopher was bored with him, but didn’t.

“Why do you work so hard? Sounds like you’re running yourself ragged.”

Christopher laughed. “I’ve always been the busy sort. One gets used to it.” He shrugged.”Not your pace?”

“Eh, I try to keep busy. I’ve got a dog. Duke. He takes up plenty of time. The store can be slow sometimes, since online retailers are so much more competitive, but I try to keep the prices low and the books in the black. It’s hard, though. Authors don’t always want to come to little bookstores for signings unless they’re locals. I do what I can. For fun, I work out, help my parents. They’re getting older. I’m close to my brother and sisters.” He shrugged.

Christopher blinked. “Yes, I understand that a lot of high-street bookshops are having problems. The only ones that seem to be coasting along quite well are the academic book shops, as far as I can see. I’m probably as guilty as anyone else of taking the lazy online option, if truth be told.” It was nice of him to sound faintly apologetic about it.

“Now, I do stock some of the academic books. I sell them at cost. I don’t lose, but I don’t get anything, either. As long as the debt to earnings ratio is even, I reckon it’s all right.”

“My grasp of commercial economics is somewhat tenuous; I’m far better at pure mathematics.”

“And music. Usually they go hand-in-hand, if I’m not mistaken?”

He laughed that rich orange laugh again. “Where there is a talent for one, there is often an affinity with the other, yes. I took joint honors in both at university.”

“Have you traveled much?” Josh swiped the beads of sweat on his bottle and wondered why he was so ravenous for more information about this man. If Christopher asked him why he was so interested in his life and the things that most people ignore, he wouldn’t have an answer. He was comfortable and thought Christopher could be a friend, and friends were always good, even if they only had until just after the New Year to spend time together laughing and just being two people, having a good time.

“Yes and no. I get about a bit, but it tends to be work-related. I’ve competed at Chartres, Dunfermline and Montreal this year, for example, but they weren't what you'd call holidays, between the competition and working around the dogs. This is the first time I’ve ever left them; they normally travel with me.”

“You seem a little... unhappy about that.” Josh watched his long fingers toy with the stem of the glass again.

“Do I?” he asked, surprised. “I’m not. It comes with the territory, and I really don’t mind it.”

“Just the way you’re playing with your glass. Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

Christopher flashed a smile. “I’m a professional musician. My fingers get restive if they’re unoccupied for protracted periods.”

Josh nodded. “Makes sense. What kind of dogs do you have?”

Something lit up in Christopher’s eyes at the question. “One Labrador, two Greyhounds, a Papillon, a Border Collie, a couple of mongrels, and half a Mastiff. The Labrador is the only one I consciously set out to acquire.”

“That’s a lot of dogs. How do you only have half of one...?”

Christopher smiled with amusement. “His official owner hasn’t quite passed him on yet.” He rolled his eyes. “I seem to be the local acquirer of second-hand problem dogs; the problem with this one is that he weighs nearly as much as she does and broke her arm in two places by shouldering her out of the way to lunge at an apparently aggressive dustbin.”

Josh nearly choked on the beer he’d just had a swig of, but swallowed it and burst out laughing. “That’s something I’ve never heard before. Then again, people used to think it was fun to go cow-tipping.”

“Cow whatting?”

Josh shook his head, feeling heat climb his neck, along with a rolling discomfort in his gut. He didn’t want to say more, but he’d opened that can of worms himself. He sighed. “Just what it sounds like. Someone goes out into a field and tries to tip a cow over. Sometimes they push; sometimes they use... other things. I never went. I’ve just heard stories.”

Christopher looked like Josh had just told him he was Santa Claus. “You do know that a cow weighs more than a half ton? Even on the basis that the cow didn’t react in any way, it would take at least two people to push one over, and I can’t imagine one just standing still while someone makes the attempt. It’d be more likely to kick your stomach out through the back of your skull.”

Josh winced at the clarity of the imagery. “Like I said, I never went. People got hurt, though. Small town, nothing to do, so they get drunk and do stupid things.”

Snorting, Christopher agreed, “Don’t they just? I grew up in a village; I know the syndrome.”

Josh nodded. “I was a bit boring, I guess. I did my homework and stuff. Studied and went to college and played sports. I blame my parents being older and a little more old-fashioned.”

“I don’t know that mine were older, but they were probably old-fashioned. And of course, I went to a very good school.” He rolled his eyes, amusing Josh, as was no doubt the intention. “Which was very old-fashioned, as they tend to be. I think the most progressive thing to have happened in that school in the last fifty years was opening the prep to girls in nineteen ninety six.”

“Wow. Definitely more old-fashioned. Another one?” Josh pointed at the empty Martini glass.

“I think we need to be making a move towards the dining room, actually.”

Time had flown by; Josh wasn’t ready to stop talking to Christopher just yet. “Yeah, probably so.” He smiled, not wanting to show his disappointment. They were just across the hall from one another, after all. “After you.”

Christopher smiled back and led them to the dining room.

***

After dinner, they went back to the piano lounge and sat in the comfy armchairs. Josh watched Christopher, off and on, like he had during dinner. Choosing the general holiday cruise versus the gay one had been intentional: Josh knew he could be impulsive and the last thing he needed was to get wrapped up in a weird relationship that wouldn’t last. Except now he’d met probably the only other gay man on the ship and been attracted to him like bees to flowers. He sighed. Christopher was just a friend.

They drank, talked and laughed. When they music had stopped, Josh realized they both weren’t listening to the music any more. Christopher’s eyes were closed and he’d slumped in the chair. He looked peaceful and comfortable, even if his head lolled at an angle that would leave his neck aching for hours. Josh didn’t want to keep him from restful sleep. He reached out and touched Christopher’s shoulder, tapping a few times to get his attention. “Christopher...”

He blinked awake, eyes widening and his lips parted a little. “Oh, God, how embarrassing. Sorry.” He stifled a yawn. Poor soul has to be exhausted. Josh exhaled and watched Christopher. God, he’s cute. Out of Josh’s league, for more than one reason. No. If he’d only landed in Florida that day, jet lag would be catching up with him.

“It’s all right. Come on. It’s late. You need to sleep.”

They didn’t speak on the way back to their cabins. It was a content rather than awkward silence, which was nice. When they arrived at their rooms, Josh bade Christopher goodnight. Josh smiled as he undressed and hung his tux in the closet; it had been a good night. He was sure he had messages from his family, but he could talk to them later. He just wanted to sink into the large bed waiting for him and sleep.

***

Four am looked at Josh from the side of his bed. Nothing he could do could get Christopher out of his head. He’d managed a few naps, but every time he closed his eyes, he saw Christopher and his open top button, the slice of neck beneath the collar. He didn’t like affairs, and relationships were trouble, but he could think of about two dozen things he wanted to do to this man he’d only just met.

He rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, shoving aside any more thoughts of the possibilities of three weeks.

***

Sunlight blasted through the cabin window like a spotlight. Josh wasn’t sure if he wanted to get up yet or if he wanted to stay in bed and try to get some of the sleep he’d lost during the night. Eyes opened or closed, he thought about Christopher: face, lips, smile, laugh, lithe body. His dreams had been a muddy fantasy mixed with reality. Every hour on the hour, he’d woken, bed empty, the sound of the ship and thoughts darting across the hall. He closed his eyes and kept the pillow over his face.

The next time he woke up, the alarm clock read nine o’clock. Those four hours of uninterrupted sleep had done wonders, and now he was ready to get up and start his day.

He started with a shower. His mother had thought it would be amusing to give him some Hawaiian shirts and shorts to wear on the cruise; he found the least offensive combination and put it on, along with a pair of flip-flops. Satisfied that he didn’t look too bad, he headed out to find some food.

Couples, groups and occasional singles passed by, smiles on their faces. Josh nodded and greeted them as he sauntered through the halls and main areas.

Josh caught a glimpse of Christopher as he stepped into the dining room and approached him with a smile. “Morning.”

Christopher smiled back. “Good morning.”

“How’d you sleep?”

“Very well, thank you. You?”

“Not too badly,” he lied, not wanting to say how much of his night he’d spent thinking about Christopher. “Starving, though.”

Christopher chuckled. “There’s plenty on the menu.”

“Mm. That sounds like it could mean a lot of things, but without food, my brain just doesn’t work the same way.” Josh grinned, until he realized that Christopher had no idea what he’d meant and would have to explain. Josh shifted and chuckled, his face hot. “Sorry. You’re attractive.”

Christopher colored. “Ah... it was actually just a comment on the breakfast options. In terms of food.”

“Christopher, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“Please call me Chris.”

Exhaling helped ease the embarrassment rolling through him. “I usually go by Josh.” He smiled, thankful for the change of subject on Chris’s part.

Chris rubbed the back of his head wryly.

So, he’d made a comment that was a bit forward with someone he’d only just met. That was okay, he supposed, if he wanted to make the rest of the cruise a nightmare. He berated himself for letting his mouth open before thinking. Worse yet, he’d interrupted Chris’s peaceful breakfast of toast and poached eggs... which seemed rather unfulfilling. “Well, since I’m already intruding, can I join you?”

“Please do.”

Josh sat and eyed the menu. One of everything, please popped into his mind, but he knew he should keep it simple. A server took his order, which seemed like a feast compared to Chris’s meager portion. “Not hungry?”

Chris looked at his plate. “About as much so as ever.”

“You don’t eat much?” Josh asked. Then he wondered if that was something about being English or just about Chris.

“Not generally, no.”

“How the hell do you function?” came out and Josh clamped his mouth shut. He’d done so well last night, and they’d been getting along; he was not this much of an idiot most of the time.

Fortunately for him, Chris was amused rather than offended. “I’ve never had a problem. I just don’t take a lot of fuel.”

“Hrm.” He dug in when his food arrived, devouring pancakes, bacon, eggs, toast—the actual plate if he wasn’t careful. Between bites, he asked, “What are your plans today?”

“Other than a singing lesson and a quick piano brush-up, nothing.”

“Wait, you’re taking a working vacation?”

Chris smiled. “It wasn’t the intention, but I had a message from Melissa—the singer from the piano lounge last night—when I left the cabin this morning. I’d taken the liberty of suggesting a couple of exercises for her top register before you got to the lounge last night.”

“You must be very good, then.”

Chris’s eyebrows arched. “I am.” There was no arrogance to it; it was a plain statement of fact.

Amused and liking how easy it was to talk to Chris, Josh suggested, “Maybe you could teach me to sing.”

“Oh, probably. If I can get a recognizable tune out of George Richardson, I can get one out of anyone.”

Josh laughed. “Maybe later. I promise I’m a good student, but I might not be able to carry a tune in a bucket.”

“Anyone can, if they’re taught right.” Chris nodded at a few people across the room, one of them was the singer. “Her real problem is transitions.”

Josh nodded. “I’ll take your word for it. After some of this food settles, I think I’ll go for a swim.” He ate slower, now that the edge of hunger wasn’t as strong. It was early and he wanted to get some sun, move around and work out some of the tension that had been riding him for months. He finished eating and looked at Chris. “Have fun with the lesson. I’ll see you later.” He smiled. “Buy you a drink, this time.”

Chris smiled back. “That would be nice.”

“Excellent. Say around two?”

“Piano lounge again?”

“Sure. Whatever you like.”

Chris inclined his head. “Two, or thereabouts, in the piano bar, then. Enjoy your swim.”

“Thanks.” Josh signed his name and room number to the bill and went to change.

***

A few people sat around the piano lounge, listening to the Christmas music, most of them in the comfy sofas and chairs rather than at the bar. The bar felt appropriate for his early-afternoon not-a-date drinks with Chris. He couldn’t lie to himself and say that he wasn’t trying to get to know Chris better. It felt like he had to know him. Like he should know him. He was easy to talk to, lacking the pretention and airs of some of the people he’d met. What he saw was what he got, and Josh liked that. They could talk about anything without it being complicated or offensive, or at least they had managed to so far, and as long as things remained that way, well, there were worse ways to find a life-long friend.

The morning had been pleasant; Josh felt warm from being in the sun and was up a few hundred dollars since he’d boarded after playing in the casino for a bit. It was close to when Chris agreed to meet him, so he ordered their drinks and waited. For a while, the music was just the pianist. He recognized a few of the pieces—not Christmas songs, more classical—that happened to suit the mood. It was a soothing, comfortable place to spend a quiet afternoon. The mellow quiet was exactly why he had chosen somewhere new to spend Christmas. There would be no snow at home; there rarely was. He remembered a white Christmas years ago, but most of the wintry mix came after the holidays. He remembered wearing bright red snow boots over his shoes as a kid and snapping a piece of elastic around a button to keep the snow off his feet. He’d played with his sister and mother, building a snowman with charcoal for eyes, and a big carrot for the nose. His buttons had been rocks from the crumbling wall that separated his parents’ house and the neighbors’.

He smiled, propping his elbows on the bar with his beer in hand and looked around the room; he hoped the Martini stayed cold enough for Chris. He drank and watched the people spread out around. He caught sight of Chris out of the corner of his eye and smiled and swiveled on the chair. Josh waved him over and held his hand out to the waiting drink. Chris laughed and joined him. “Thank you.”

“Glad to know I got it right. How was the lesson?”

Chris sipped his drink. Josh didn’t linger when looking at his lips at the rim of the glass. “Oh, it was alright. A little hurried; I couldn’t really do a great deal with her in half an hour, but if she works at it, she should iron out her problem area.”

“That’s good. Pro bono?”

Chris looked thrown by the question, but said, “If you mean ‘without payment’, then yes.”

“Generous, too.” Josh smiled. “Something about you isn’t perfect. It can’t be. Otherwise, I’d have to say you’re too good to be true.” He blinked, frowning, and realized how what he’d said must’ve sounded. “That came out wrong; I’m not hitting on you. I didn’t come out here looking for anyone. I can’t imagine you did, either.” He took a swig from the green bottle. “I’m not good at affairs,” he added with slight hesitation.

“I...” Chris went blank again, like he couldn’t find the words to respond. After a moment, he picked a tack and started again. “I’m not perfect. I just wasn’t going to charge a girl who earns less than half my salary for something that will make time I spend in a room where she’s performing considerably pleasanter. So I was motivated by selfishness, if anything.”

“I wouldn’t say that. It’s better for everyone, if that’s the case. So, generous, again.”

“Hm.”

“Not often I get to compliment someone. Let me have my moment.” It came out in a rush. His face was warm and he didn’t know if it was embarrassment or something else. He smiled.

“You’re rather odd, aren’t you?” It was an amiable observation rather than an insult, and Josh shrugged equably. He didn’t mind being quirky. If anything, he was glad he wasn’t like everyone else. “Maybe. Or just a bit tongue-tied by you. Something.” He took another swig and toyed with the label on the bottle. He needed another.

“I wouldn’t say that tongue-tied is the problem.” Even though it was a good-natured and amused comment, Josh’s face became hotter.

“Talking too much, then. Brain tied. Something.” He laughed and finished the bottle, waving to the barman for another. “Good God, I sound like an idiot.”

Chris chuckled again. “And you’re not even jet-lagged.”

“No. I think I’m sure I’m losing my mind.” Josh sighed and nodded at the bartender when he set the fresh bottle down.

“Are you entirely sure that you didn’t come on this cruise for romantic reasons?” Chris’s tone and expression were curious. Josh felt the heat creeping up his neck. Everything he’d recently said sounded like he was there for romantic reasons. The problem wasn’t a conscious choice to pursue romance; the problem was that he always found himself in situations where he couldn’t resist wanting to be involved.

“Of course not. I swear!”

“You’re just naturally very friendly.”

The statement that could be a question in disguise. “Yeah. And a bit of a fool sometimes. Wow. Sorry. I’m coming across as a complete idiot.”

Surprising Josh, Chris smiled. “No, you’re not.”

“Or unstable.”

“Hardly that.” He smiled faintly. “Cultural differences probably account for a lot of it.”

“Maybe.” No, they don’t, Josh wanted to say; he was acting like he had a crush. He didn’t want to think about that.

“I trust you enjoyed your swim.”

Thankful for the change of subject, Josh seized it. “I did. I went to the casino, too. Won a little bit.”

“I was thinking about looking in there this evening. Is it any good?”

“Not too bad. I had fun. Want company?”

Chris smiled. “If you like.”

“Cool. I’m not very good, but I have fun.”

“That’s the important thing.”

That, Josh agreed, was the important thing. Fun. Now he just had to stop acting like he had a crush and maybe he’d stop wanting to cringe when he said something stupid.

***

“So, card-counter?” Josh looked at Chris, amused and in awe of how he slipped through without the staff noticing.

Just the corner of his mouth went up. “Only recreationally and for low stakes. My grandfather taught me; we used to make a fortune out of his local bridge club.”

“Sounds like fun.”

And the full, warm, proper smile came out. “Yes, it was. Do you play?”

“Not at all.”

“I suppose it is a bit old-fashioned.”

There was a bridge club that met at the rec department, but Josh was sure only older folks played. “Cultural difference?”

“Maybe; I don’t know many people of our generation who play.” The half-embarrassed admission was oddly endearing; Chris was more amusing, more interestingly different than he had seemed at first sight.

“Mm. Sometimes I play poker with some friends, but I’ve never been a major player in any way.”

“No, neither have I. It was just an activity my grandfather and I could do together; he took my brother fishing.” Chris smiled. “They were very good about ensuring that we all had a share of time.” His expression changed—perhaps guilty pleasure. “I really did have an idyllic childhood, I think. I must be in a minority of one.” Then he lit up, inasmuch as it seemed he ever did, and asked, “Would you like to see my dogs?”

Pleased, Josh nodded. Chris pulled a tablet out and tapped the screen a few times before presenting it to Josh. There were masses of dogs: muddy, wet, playing in the snow, sunbathing, sleeping, eating. All of the dogs he owned had to be in the selection of photos Josh saw, and they all seemed happy.

“They’re great,” Josh said and pulled out his cell phone. He tapped the screen a few times and pulled up a few photos of Duke and Chester. Chester liked to fall asleep in the windows of the store and that was when Josh got the best photos of her. She was stout and had long grey fur with white on her paws. Duke was a typical boxer, but always had an expression like he was up to something. “These are my two.”

Something around the edges of Chris softened when he looked through the photos of Josh’s pets. He also got to see a lot of the store, since Chester spent a lot of her time roaming the shelves, and lying on the highest ones, or taking up a large space in the window, or on top of an open book. “The cat looks remarkably like the stray that lives in the churchyard. Friendly little soul.”

“Yeah, she’s sweet. Likes to sleep on my head sometimes, since I live above the store. Shop, as you said.”

Chris laughed. “This one isn’t quite that friendly. She’ll come into the church, and she’s quite happy to have a tickle behind the ears, but she won’t go into houses and the last person who tried to pick her up needed a tetanus booster.”

“Ouch.”

“Mm. The verger did manage to catch her and get her spayed after the second round of kittens; she’s done a lot better since then.”

The people in Chris’s village seemed nice, just from what he’d said. Or he could have a rose-tinted view of them. Josh didn’t know, but hoped one day to find out. “Sounds like they did a good thing for her. I always wish I could do more in my own little city, but I never really know what to do. I’ve donated books to the schools and library. But I’m not exactly Daddy Warbucks.”

“Who?”

“It’s not important.” He smiled and took a drink.

***

Josh took the first opportunity to take a day trip to the islands. It was beautiful, the sun warm and heavy like a wet t-shirt. The water sparkled as far as he could see, beyond the ship, in emerald and sapphire. White sand burned hot under his feet once he stepped off the dock. He wandered around for a while, buying souvenirs and taking in local cuisine. Before the sun went down, he took a swim in the ocean, feeling like nothing could hold him down.

The last few days had taken away his stress and worry, replacing it with a sense of ease he hadn’t felt for a while. One thing after another had stacked up and had come so close to tipping over that he’d needed to get out from under it, if only to remind himself there was more in the world than the bookstore, his family, and their needs. There were places he’d only read about in books, and people with accents so deep they might as well have been oceans. It was incredible. It wasn’t like the people were that much different than the ones he saw every day, but the surroundings, the sights and scents and sounds invigorated him more than he’d even hoped they would He soaked up every detail, shamelessly people-watching to find a genuine local bar and talk to people who weren’t fellow tourists.

He went to a hole-in-the-wall club that seemed to be for men only off a back alley. Definitely a gay club, or at least it pretended to be among the tourist gentlemen’s clubs. He had a beer and danced with one of the islanders, but something was missing. He left not long after arriving: he wanted to get back to the ship.

In his cabin, he took a long shower, getting rid of the sweat and sand that clung to him. Feeling much better, he toweled off and pulled his freshly cleaned tux out and dressed for dinner.

***

The phone rang early the next evening; he turned to pick up the receiver from the bed. Hearing his mother’s voice wasn’t a surprise; she’d promised to check in on her ‘baby boy’ the last time they’d talked. She shared with him every detail of her day. It wasn’t that he didn’t care, but he’d taken the cruise to get away from all of that. Yes, he knew his brother-in-law was sick, and he knew about the young woman his father thought he should meet. It was always the same. He closed his eyes and exhaled through the useless information. There were grandchildren and her actual children and husband there to talk to. He knew it was different, him being on a cruise and not at home, even if he had taken most of the hard work out of it for her already. He helped set up the tree and decorate it when his dad got too tired, and he shopped for the food so his mother didn’t have to stress herself out. His brother had taken over those duties for once, so that Josh could get away: he, at least, recognized that Josh needed the break. Focussing on his mother’s monologue, he nodded as though she could see him, humming or replying at the right moments.

“Josh, what’s wrong, darling?”

“Nothing. I was just relaxing. Can you please break the date with whoever it is Dad is trying to set me up with?” It was always the same story.

“Well… Honey, why don’t you give it a try?”

Josh scowled and wanted to name twenty reasons that would make her liver curl for not going on this date when he got back. “Mom, please. I didn’t wake up while I was here and decide my whole life was a lie.”

“Don’t take that tone of voice with me, you hear?” She almost snapped, but it wasn’t in her to treat any of her children that way. “We just want you to be happy.”

“I know, Mom.” She meant well; she always did, and she didn’t usually nag. The fact that she was going down this road told him just how much she had on her mind. “I just don’t think dating a young woman is going to make any difference. You and Dad know who I am. It’s who I’ve always been, and it’s not going to change, no matter how badly I want to make you happy.”

It was a low blow and he knew it. There was a pause on the other end of the line. In the background, Christmas music and laughter reached him. He wondered how the house looked this year and if his in-laws had stepped up to help, along with his siblings. He missed, for just a moment, being there with them.

“I’ll talk to him,” his mother finally said.

“Thank you.”

“We love you, Josh.”

“I know. I love you and Dad, too. How’re you both doing?”

“Your father… he’s a little under the weather. Just age, you know. But we’re fine. No snow yet this year, so we haven’t had to shovel the driveway and your father is getting some rest.”

“Has he been to the doctor yet?” Josh’s heart fluttered; he took a deep, steadying breath before he could start sounding off about stubborn old men who didn’t know when to admit that they needed help.

“Oh, no. You know him. He’ll be okay in a few days.” She didn’t sound convinced, but Josh didn’t want to make things any more difficult. He knew they were getting older, but his parents had always been active, priding themselves on their freedom, while others their age were confined to nursing homes already.

“Yeah. I’m sure he will be. Strong as an ox.” An older ox now—not like when Josh was a kid and his dad would run around with him and his brother and sisters in the front yard in the summer time. If he were there, he could help them with things. As much as he wanted to be here with Chris, he wanted to go home and help out—and talk some sense into his dad. These episodes seemed to be happening more often, though, and Josh couldn’t help but worry.

The best he could do from a distance of hundreds of miles was change the subject, and so he did, drawing his mom back onto her favorite themes of the neighbors and her grandchildren. Finally she ran out of topics and wished him goodnight. He hung up and lay back down, propping his head up with his arms to settle his mind, but the stress and worry had risen too far. He got up and went for a walk around the ship. There were all kinds of people on the top deck, smoking and drinking around the pool. He bummed a cigarette from the first person he saw who smoked the same brand he did. It had been months since he’d had a cigarette and the first drag hurt like hell, but then the ache in his lungs subsided and he felt a pleasant tingle through his arms and legs. He sat down and got tied up in a conversation about books with some of the other passengers. When the lady he’d gotten his cigarette from went back indoors to meet her party, he gave her a few dollars and she left the pack on the table top. He sat for a while and ordered a drink, smoked a few, and stopped when a graveyard of cigarette butts lay in the ashtray. When he was too tired, he said goodnight and went to bed, with an open invitation to join them on the smoking deck any time.

He hoped he was strong-willed enough not to need to go up there again.

***

The first week rolled into the second. He woke up early, ready to see Chris, often before breakfast hours began. Then he paced in his room, wondering if Chris had left already or if he’d get to see him. When he missed him, disappointment welled and shadowed him all morning. Then they caught each other at lunch and Josh would smile and soak up everything Chris told him about his day, just as Chris seemed to soak up everything that Josh had to say himself. He never went looking for him; they just seemed to find one another, and as the days went by, Chris looked more rested, relaxed and even better than when they first met.

They seemed to be gravitating toward one another more and more, and Josh felt his fight against starting a relationship slipping further away with every encounter. Every conversation lasted until something drew them apart, or lapsed into comfortable silence; there was no awkwardness, no rush to fill every gap. New thoughts and ideas rushed into Josh’s mind when they parted. He couldn’t wait for the next time to see Chris to bring it up. He’d rambled incessantly about his trip to the island and the things he’d seen and done; Chris had listened and added his own observations and experiences to the conversation, his perspective enlivening and enriching Josh’s own, and he seemed pleased by and keenly interested in what Josh had to say. It was never dull. This man was worth jumping head first into the deep end for; he was perceptive, funny, attentive, and so many other things that Josh found attractive. Being with Chris felt like being home – the kind of home that was about warmth, laughter and contentment. He sighed, trying to decide how he was going to bring up these feelings. He wasn’t good at the romantic things.

The reality was that he was scared to death that Chris didn’t feel the same way. It wasn’t the mad rush of love at first sight that he’d heard about; it was quieter and calmer, more like a familiar hand slipping into his than a headlong plunge into excitement and desire, but that made it all the more meaningful. Chris seemed to take real pleasure in spending time with Josh, but his friendliness didn’t mean he was ready to change his life for a man he was still getting to know. Josh was, though. He exhaled and contemplated going to the smoking deck again, but knew a cigarette wouldn’t solve his problem. Nothing could, except doing what he always had, the thing he’d promised himself that he’d never do again: jump in head first and chance making a fool of himself—or driving the man away.

He looked out of the cabin window, watching the water ripple around the hull. He was afraid he and Chris might be like that steady wake: forced in different directions, slipping further and further from each other whether they liked it or not, helplessly parted by something bigger than them, even though they were so close together.

***

Christmas Eve arrived, obvious by the change of bearing in the staff. It was like they’d switched onto ‘high’ to please the passengers even more with the inherent excitement of the holiday. They were perkier and full of more smiles than usual. They also made sure everyone was aware of the dance that night.

“There’s even a special round of speed dating for the singles. Just for fun.” The stewardess smiled broadly, bouncing with ridiculous pep. She was attractive enough, but he had no interest in her below the neck. He tried to smile back but had a feeling it was a little flat. He wasn’t interested in speed dating for fun, or any other games. Before he closed his door, he looked at Chris’s, wondering if he was in. He wouldn't be: Josh had learned that Chris left his cabin in the morning and did not return—except to change—until bed-time. Josh didn’t want to be dateless for the dance, and it seemed like it could be fun. He’d forgotten how much he liked to dance until he’d gone to the club on the island. He smiled slightly; he couldn’t imagine Chris doing the sort of grinding that went on that night—sex with clothes—but the formal stuff, Josh figured he’d be very good at. And, it was Christmas Eve: They should do something fun. They only had so much time together before they’d go their separate ways. England was a long way from North Carolina.

Josh wandered around until he found a central location. Satisfied, he sat with his book and waited.

He realized he’d read the same page three times and set the paperback aside to watch the world pass by. Eventually, he looked up to see Chris diverging from his course to head in his direction.

“Christopher.” Josh smiled, pleased that their paths had finally met.

“Chris.”

“Chris, sorry. I was hoping I’d run into you.”

Chris smiled. “Were you?”

“Yeah. I wanted to ask you if you had plans for the Christmas dance tonight.”

Chris rubbed the back of his head and looked like he’d just stolen a cookie from Santa’s plate. “I was planning to avoid it.”

“Oh. I was going to ask if you’d be my date.”

Chris blinked. There was no pretending that he wasn’t disappointed; Josh was, after mulling the idea over and deciding to take the chance once he’d cogitated long enough. The silence stretched, felt like a rejection that Josh wasn’t prepared for after how well their relationship, whatever status it was, had been going.

“Were you?”

“Yeah.” His stomach felt bubbly, his skin prickling with the rise of sweat.

“I thought you weren’t looking for a romance.”

Josh cleared his throat to avoid choking. He honestly hadn’t, but he’d found one anyway, even if it did seem to be kind of one-sided.

“I wasn’t. It just sort of found me.” His face was hot, the hair at the nape of his neck tingling. This wasn’t going how he’d hoped.

Chris gave a wry smile. “Now, what was that line from the film? ‘I’ve never fallen in love. I’ve stepped in it a few times.’”

“I wouldn’t say that. I’ve fallen in love a time or two.”

Chris’s expression suggested that he thought Josh had missed the point. “That wasn’t a declaration.”

Josh tilted his head to the side. “I didn’t take it as one.” If that helps, he wanted to add, but left well enough alone.

“I hope I get the hang of communicating with you before long.”

Josh frowned, trying to figure out what he’d said or done wrong. His heart hammered in his chest, the last few moments of conversation replaying in his mind. He could see how his response to Chris’s quote could’ve been something else, but he couldn’t explain it anymore than he could ask what Chris had meant in the first place. He didn’t have time to process it anymore; Chris hummed and he looked up.

“I think I’d rather just go for drinks. Parties tend to be loud and one can’t hear oneself think.”

Josh nodded. “Piano lounge bar?” At least Chris hadn’t blown him off.

Chris’s smile looked as relived as Josh felt. “If you aren’t sick of it by now.”

“The scenery makes it worth it.”

Chris laughed. Josh wondered if it was because he didn’t know how else to respond or was embarrassed by the compliment—or if he didn’t recognize a compliment when he heard one.

“It’s true. What time is good for you?”

“Eight?”

Smiling, Josh nodded. “Sounds good. I’ll see you then.”

***

Saying I love you didn’t feel right. The words themselves didn’t mean anything; they were just words a lot of people said for no reason, or the wrong reason. Josh didn’t like them, but he did recognize their importance in relationships. His mother said it often and, he assumed, believed that saying it at every chance meant somehow the same feeling transferred to the person she’d told. It was also sacred and not a phrase uttered in the throes of passion or fear of abandonment. Josh remembered hearing those conversations between his mother and sisters growing up. He sighed and looked at the present he’d bought. It was a trifle compared to what he wished he could do. It was something to show how much Chris meant to him, how much he appreciated his company and companionship. Not quite love, but close enough to wanting to express himself rather than bottle up his feelings and thoughts. Anyway, saying he loved Chris would be empty, and creepy, at this point in their relationship. Besides, words could be more damning than silence. If he’d learned anything from his father, showing that he cared and valued his partner was worth more than twenty I love yous which were more like I owe yous for being an asshole or inconsiderate. Like when his dad brought home flowers after being out late with his card buddies; then there’d be a special dinner after. From the marriages he was closest to, those words seemed to be a way to apologize for not being a good spouse, or make up for forgetting important things: birthdays, anniversaries...

Josh finished wrapping up the present he’d bought for Chris, then got dressed, shaking off thoughts of his family and love.

***

Chris was already in the lounge when Josh got there. They both smiled.

“Merry Christmas. I reckoned I’d give his to you early.” Josh sat down and slid the box across the table between them.

“That’s very kind of you, thank you.” Chris sounded and looked genuinely touched. Warmth spread through Josh.

“I saw it and thought of you. I’ve been doing that a lot lately.”

Chris’s lip quirked up. “Impulse buying?”

“No, thinking of you.” Deflection, Josh noticed, was a regular part of Chris’s reaction to compliments or things Josh reckoned made him uncomfortable.

“Ah.” Neutrality wasn’t exactly what Josh was hoping for.

“I hope that isn’t a bad thing.”

Chris stared at his drink as though it might tell him something important. “I really don’t know. Josh, forgive me if I’m... misreading things, but I seem to be receiving the distinct impression that this...” he gestured between them, “...isn’t entirely straightforward.”

Josh didn’t sigh. “I like you. And I didn’t come on the cruise looking to meet someone or start a relationship. The last thing I wanted was a relationship, actually. But... I’ve become very attracted to you.”

Chris rubbed his forehead. “So you are trying to flirt with me.”

“Yeah.” How he hadn’t realized that before now floored Josh.

“So this is the holiday romance scenario, I suppose.”

“Not intentionally...”

Chris looked reproachful; Josh felt like a scolded child.

“I’m realistic, though.” He wanted to mitigate the depth of the situation. “And I’m not asking for anything. I just... wanted you to know.”

“You do realize that saying you aren’t asking for anything is a little incongruous in the face of the flirting?”

Josh couldn’t read anything from Chris. “‘Expecting’ might have been a better word.”

Chris hummed. “I suppose my next line should be ‘let’s go to bed’.”

“W-what? No. You mean more to me than that.”

Chris’s eyebrows went up. “I realize that I’ve had something of a sheltered upbringing, but surely the point of a holiday romance is to have as much sex as humanly possible before flying home?”

Josh wanted to shake Chris. He didn’t understand. “I want to spend more than just this holiday with you.”

“We live on opposite sides of the planet.”

“I didn’t say it’d be easy. Look, honestly, I’m just happy to spend time with you. I don’t want to jump straight into bed.”

“If you’re happy just to spend time with me, I don’t entirely see why you felt the need to start this conversation.”

Josh didn’t run his hands through his hair, even though he wanted to. “Because I don’t want things to go away. Am I alone in feeling attracted to you?”

Chris sighed, and Josh knew the attraction was mutual. Even if Chris didn’t want to admit it out loud.

“I just want us to have a fair chance. If it’s possible.” Josh looked across the table; Chris still hadn’t taken his eyes off his drink.

“I’m not entirely sure what you mean.”

“Okay, this isn’t going to come out right, I don’t think. Bear with me.”

Chris waited, only glancing up. Josh tried, but he wasn’t sure how to explain what he was feeling. He wasn’t used to saying this stuff. Definitely not used to trying to convince someone he wanted more than just sex over a cruise. This relationship stuff wasn’t easy. “I could see a future with you. Even though we live on opposite sides of the world.” Chris froze; Josh’s chest tightened. “But I know it’s unrealistic, at least right now. I suppose I just want to be with you while I can. No sex to complicate things.” Heat rushed to his cheeks. “Not that I don’t want to be with you.”

“It may take me a while to untangle that.”

Josh cleared his throat. He was going down faster than a sinking rock. “Can I get you anything from the bar?”

“No, thank you.”

“I’ll be right back. I want a snack.” If he couldn’t have a cigarette, at least he could have a snack. Something to keep his mouth busy, and fingers moving before he cracked. Even though he hadn’t wanted to feel, or become attached to someone—definitely not someone who lived half a world away from him. And damn if he didn’t want a cigarette. Things had become complicated and even though Chris seemed to reciprocate his feelings, there was still a barrier between them. It seemed to keep growing, no matter what he did or said. He ordered and shot and downed it. Lungs, throat—everything burned and he coughed. God, why are relationships so complicated?

Josh returned to the table. “Chris, I can tell you’re uncomfortable. I’m nervous, too. I would kill for a cigarette right now.”

Disgust marred Chris’s handsome face. “The hours I spend browbeating pupils and singers about that...”
“I quit a few years ago.”

“Which is a bigger achievement than most people seem to want to believe.”

“It is. It’s hard.”

“It’s an addiction just as much as alcoholism.”

Another deflection in the conversation—great. “Yeah. I shouldn’t have had one the other night. Thankfully, I don’t have any.” The chip bag crackled open. “I’m not smoking any more. I’m done with it.”

Chris smiled warmly. “Good.”

“Just a nervous thing.”

Chris nodded and drank from his glass.

If he could get inside Chris’s mind and find out what he was thinking or feeling about the possibility of them he’d be happy. A blank page sat across from him; or a page in another language Josh couldn’t read. “So, what are you going to do tomorrow? Since you aren’t performing.” Having a private performance would be nice. Josh hadn’t actually got to hear him play yet.

“I thought I might sleep late and then read on the sky deck.”

“Sounds like fun. I hope you like that.” He pointed at the present Chris hadn’t opened. “I don’t know if we’ll run into each other or not.”

“We usually do, don’t we?” That was true, and Josh couldn’t tell if that was a good or bad thing. Chris seemed happy that they did, but it couldn’t bode well that he didn’t seem to want to arrange something. “What are your plans?” 

“I don’t know. I might have to sleep off the embarrassment of tonight.”

Chris put his drink down on the table carefully and met Josh’s gaze. “I’m sorry. I really don’t know to react to this situation.”

He was being unusually direct; Josh felt his pulse leap. ”It’s okay. Me, either. Usually I just jump in and think about it later.”

Mouth quirked, Chris looked at him. “I’ve never done that in my life.”

Of course not, Josh thought and took a deep drink from his beer. “I just wanted to tell you how I feel. I thought I owed you that.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because for the first time I think I did it right.”

“I don’t follow your reasoning.”

Taking another drink, Josh thought about how to explain himself. “Maybe I need to hear it for myself. Either way. I want to make the best of the time we have together.”

Chris set his glass down again very deliberately. “Would you go back to the part where you owe me something, please? I really do not understand.”

Keep it simple, stupid, he told himself. “You’re not just a fling to me. Or a holiday romance.” Chris’s lack of response or reaction wasn’t reassuring. “I can stop talking.”

“I think I’d rather you didn’t.” It was said so quietly Josh wasn’t sure he’d heard right. “If you’re still talking, the world isn’t spinning off its axis.” But Josh wasn’t fast enough to say anything else. Chris pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s It’s rather a lot to process.”

“Yeah, I know. Believe me.”

“Is this how you normally make important announcements? There’s such a thing as leading into things gently.”

Josh put his hand on top of Chris’s. “I thought I had.” That Chris couldn’t seem to focus showed how much his world was spinning off its axis.

“It can result in people being less...” He waved his hand. “This is...” He waved his other hand, taking Josh’s with him this time.

“Okay, take a deep breath.” This wasn’t what Josh had expected. A rejection outright or gentle apology, maybe, but not this unfocused rambling.

“I had thought it was just me.”

Josh blinked, his mouth open. “Just you?” He furrowed his brow and looked at Chris.

“Oh, dear. How much have I had to drink?”

“Not much.  Maybe two drinks.”

“I don’t deal very well with shocks. I tend to go to pieces. LMF, my mother would say. And my headmaster, come to that.”

“What’s LMF?”

“And yet I put out a fire in my classroom without turning a hair. Of course, that was George Richardson and one sort of expects these things from him...”

“Chris.”

The rambling went on—more about the unfortunate George Richardson and his misadventures; it would probably have been funny under other circumstances. It was the moment in the films when one person slapped the other to bring them to their senses, Josh realized, but he was not going to do that.

Josh slid forward in his chair, closing the distance between himself and  Chris. Their knees touched under the table, a thrill running up Josh’s spine. He reached out and took hold of Chris’s face, then leaned in and brushed his lip under Chris’s. 

Their mouths met and Chris finally stopped talking; for a moment, tongue moved against tongue. Then it ended like running into a wall. Josh blinked, his brow furrowed. Chris’s face was red.

“We’re in the middle of the lounge bar!” The only thing missing from his bearing was his hand over his mouth and standing up so fast his legs hit the table.

Josh couldn’t remember ever being hissed at before. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re the only ones here. Everyone else is doing other things or at the dance.”

“Even so.” Chris looked like he was searching for words, but incoherent sounds accompanied his lips moving. His face was even redder. “One doesn’t! There’s a time and a place!”

“You weren’t making any sense.”

Fingers clamped around his arm and pulled Josh up. He didn’t want to say anything, in case Chris stopped or got angry. The unknown of whatever wherever this was going on with them was exciting, and he loved it. He let Chris drag him along like an anchor hoisted from the ocean, through the hallways and stairs without paying attention to where they were going. When they stopped, he realized they were at Chris’s room. For a moment, Chris struggled to get his key to work. Once he did, he pushed the door open, yanking Josh along. He hit the back of the door with a thud, then felt the unmistakable pressure of Chris’s weight against him, warm down the front of his body, and barely more yielding than the door. There was no time to think. Their mouths were together again, and Josh wrapped his arms around Chris. Their kiss was sloppy, like two teenage boys trying it out for the first time, afraid of being caught. In the jostling for position, Chris’s thigh found its way between Josh’s legs, pressing tantalizingly against the front of his pants. Josh shifted against the pressure, only dimly aware of his cock thickening and stirring, wholly absorbed in the developing rhythm of the kiss. Chris tasted of sharp, dry alcohol and his fingers moved expertly over the back of Josh’s head, guiding and positioning and holding him in place. He felt as if he was drowning in it, losing his awareness of anything but the slick sounds of mouths moving together and fevered breathing, a knowing hand at the back of his neck and another grasping his hip, that solid muscle moving against his cock, and, he realized with a shudder, Chris’s own erection pressed snugly to his pelvis. Mounting desire plummeted into hard need. Chris leaned against Josh, bringing his weight to bear, plastering them together from knee to chest, but he wasn’t pushing; they needed that. Needed the pressure, the heat, the friction. Josh panted and moved his hands down Chris’s sides to his firm ass, dragging the man impossibly closer, tighter, twisting his body to drive their cocks together and smothering his moan in Chris’s mouth. It wasn’t going to last long. Josh didn’t care; he wanted Chris, and Chris wanted him: it was more than he’d hoped for, and Chris was really, really into it. Every sound he made, stifled as it was Josh’s mouth, went straight to Josh’s balls. He could almost smell Chris’s arousal, dark and heavy and perfect. Digging his shoulders back against the wood, he used the door for leverage to thrust higher and harder. Damp cotton scraped the sensitive skin of his cock and made his eyes roll back in his head, but the discomfort was lost in the rush of so damn good; Chris growled, seriously growled, and moved harder, faster, pulling a deep moan of response from somewhere in Josh’s core. He couldn’t breathe and his lungs burned, but oxygen was less important than grinding into Chris and that maddening, wonderful, solid heat. Chris moved with him, in an inexorable roll that sent shudders of pleasure through him. Crackling heat pooled in his belly, sparking to the base of his spine, his balls, his hair. The pace quickened and their movements grew more forceful; 

Josh jerked, hearing Chris muffled against his collar.

Chris shuddered against him, a deep, satisfied moan racing across Josh’s neck. Josh’s head thumped back against the door and he rode through Chris’s orgasm. Josh would’ve given anything to feel the wet heat of come between them. All of the waiting, the desire, hit him like a punch. He panted, moaned, lost all thought. He heard his own voice as if from miles away babbling a nonsense of praise and obscenity as the pleasure tore through him, and he held on, riding the wave of pleasure as high as it went. He didn’t want to let go. He rubbed against Chris, feeling him flinch. Josh knew. He was sensitive, too.

They held each other up for a moment while heartbeats slowed and breathing came back under control.

Josh clasped Chris against him, aware of the sticky mess in his underwear. Chris was red-faced and looked like he wanted to hide. Josh tilted Chris’s chin up and kissed him. He leaned his forehead against Chris’s and slid their skin together, rolling his face to soak up as much of Chris as he could while he had him. “Can I stay the night?”

“Here?” He sounded almost dazed.

Josh almost chuckled. “Mm. With you.”

“If you like. Is it the done thing? I’m afraid I must be guided by you.”

Josh didn’t sigh. If he didn’t want to be with Chris, he wouldn’t have asked. He kissed Chris again. “It’s whatever you want, Chris. If you don’t want me to stay, I’ll go to my room. I’d like to stay with you, though.”

“I’m perfectly happy for you to stay.”

Relief crashed through him like water bursting a dam. “Probably should clean up.”

“Yes, of course. Please.” Chris gestured toward the bathroom.

Chuckling, Josh shook his head. “I meant you. I need to go across the hall to get a change of clothes. I won’t be long.”

Chris inclined his head and disappeared into the bathroom. Josh couldn’t keep from smiling on the way to his bedroom to clean up and change.
 
***
 
It didn’t take long for the awkwardness of a new relationship to fade, at least for Josh. What would happen after the cruise ended was still up in the air, but Josh tried not to think about it too much. He wanted to make the most of the time he had left with Chris, which wasn’t much. They’d spent Christmas, New Year’s, and most of the time between in Chris’s cabin, no sex, just some kissing and sleeping that ended up with Josh wrapped around Chris a little too tightly for Chris’s comfort, though Chris was quick to reassure him that the problem was only the unfamiliarity of someone sharing his bed, and that he would get used to it soon enough. He tried to loosen up some. The problem was he was comfortable; comfort meant he was happy for Chris to know he wanted to hold him close. Chris was too easy going—or polite—to object to things Josh seemed to like, like his easy physical affection, so he just hoped that now that they were together, and would be for the rest of the cruise, and somehow after, he would ease up on his own. Sometimes it was better not to complicate things; they were learning about each other, after all. It had left Josh raw when Chris had admitted his own long-standing attraction, since Josh never really saw it or felt it. It was just Chris’s way, though: He kept his emotions in check. Josh suspected that part of Chris would always exist and would be something he’d have to learn to understand wasn’t a personal insult. His reserve and his manners were two of his defining features—even when they acted to his detriment. On Christmas Day, Chris’s cell phone had simply never stopped: when it wasn’t beeping with a text message, it was ringing, and he seemed to feel obliged to respond. Every other thing out of his mouth had been an apology to Josh for taking the call or checking the message, but he had seemed horrified when Josh suggested that he just ignore it for a while. After the ninth elderly lady had bored Chris witless with the same account of Mrs. Pinsentt’s unsatisfactory performance at Eucharist, Josh had persuaded one of the staff to remove and hide the offending object for the sake of Chris’s sanity. Chris had only freaked out briefly after its ‘disappearance’, and when Josh returned it that evening, he would have sworn that Chris was as grateful to him for having made it disappear as he was for him giving it back.  He needed protection from his own courtesy, and Josh was happy to provide it. 

However reserved Chris remained in public, though, he was definitely loosening up in private. The urgency of that first time against the door never quite reappeared, but Josh could not bring himself to be disappointed with the range of affection and sensuality that replaced it; he was tactile in a way that thrilled Josh to the core. Disinclination to be cuddled tightly all night notwithstanding, he didn’t seem to be able to be within reach of Josh without touching him, whether by a brush of elbows or tap of knees, or by pressing Josh into the couch and playing him like the instruments he spent his life handling. Every day was a discovery, and each seemed to go by quicker than the last. 

Josh wasn’t ready for their time together to end.
 
***
 
Josh got out of the shower and peered into the room he and Chris had taken to sharing. His now-tanned skin stood out against the bedding, which was folded down to his waist as it always was: He couldn’t sleep muffled up to the neck. Taking a moment to appreciate the view, Josh was glad Chris had started sleeping without the t-shirt. He must have been on the cusp of sleep; his breathing wasn’t deep yet and he was still face-down instead of on his side. Josh felt the familiar stirring of arousal as he watched the man breathe, drinking in the picture he presented. All the lingering soreness from their frantic sex against the wall was now gone; it had been for days, and he wasn’t sure what had kept them from moving beyond making out like teenagers. It wasn’t lack of inclination on either part. He dropped the towel when he was done drying off, heading straight to the bed. So much of Chris was exposed—Josh wanted to have his hands and mouth everywhere, from his sternum and biceps to the thighs and groin hidden beneath the sheets.

His knees hit the mattress first, and it dipped slightly under his weight. The sheets gathered up under his palms, became a straight line when he slid closer. He stopped beside Chris and just looked at his body. Though he’d seen it a few times already, this was the best view. He looked peaceful, utterly relaxed, the lines of his torso racehorse-slim and only lightly muscled but undeniably masculine. He had tanned to a golden honey shade that Josh itched to taste.

Josh leaned over Chris and balanced with one hand beside his body; Chris didn’t stir. He reached out with the other and traced Chris’s hipbone, just stroking the curvature from his front to back with the tips of his fingers, a stroke here, a caress up toward his ribs there. Chris grew warmer, more color rising at his neck, around his shoulders. Even his chest looked daubed by pink; it was starting to match his nipples. Josh repositioned and lowered himself to be closer to Chris’s mouth, his throat.

Chris wasn’t beautiful—was he? Could men be beautiful?—but he was the most incredible person Josh had ever seen. Being able to touch him, watch his body react and know that he wanted it just as much as Josh took Josh’s breath away. Josh leaned forward and pressed his lips to Chris’s, a now-familiar feeling of comfort and pleasure. Everything about Chris was intoxicating.   This was what he’d wanted against the door, the touch of skin without the harsh friction of cotton and wool. He wanted to look, see how Chris reacted to his cock or earlobe being sucked, or if he liked a nip to his neck or preferred the gentle swipe of tongue... there was so much still to learn.  

Chris shifted, moaning; Josh stopped and watched him. He blinked a few times, eyes widening.

“You okay?”

“Mm.” Sleep-heavy, he sounded even sexier.

Josh smiled. “Good.” He kissed Chris deep and firm. The response was immediate. A little slow, sleepy, but still interested—a lazy slide of tongues and warmth between them. Josh shifted the comforter and sheet aside, moving to settle between Chris’s legs, which parted easily to cradle him. Josh slid his erection against Chris’s groin and was pleased by the answering interest; Chris wasn’t hard, but he wasn’t far from it. He looked awake now, his eyes dark and the flush on his chest and neck deepening. Bracing himself on his knees, Josh ran his hand from Chris’s groin, which earned him a sound of appreciation, up over his pelvis and stomach, then down again. Feeling the gradual change from interest to full-blown desire, Josh buried his face in Chris’s chest, kissing the edge of his pectorals, saturated with the heat of his rising arousal  Skilled fingers moved through his hair, and Josh rolled his hips, pressing down against the soft swell of Chris’s balls. He made a sound that shot down Josh’s spine, lit him up from the inside out.

Chris’s fingers clamped down, pulled Josh up by the hair, until their lips and tongues were together, echoing the slide of cock against cock, only with no barriers to the touch. Chris met and answered every movement, matching the rhythm Josh set. It felt too good too soon. His body remembered the last time they were flush, rubbing so hard he’d been sore for days. Sore in the best ways. But he didn’t want frantic and a dull ache—at least, not that dull ache.

Skilled hands found their way to his ass, kneading and guiding him into a surging grind that made fireworks burst behind his eyes. It was too much and nowhere near enough. He gripped Chris’s thigh, clenched around his hip, and slid his hand down. Chris shifted his leg higher, opening himself to Josh’s probing touch, and Josh’s head swam at the sudden possibilities.

Then he remembered. “Shit. Shit. Okay, don’t move. I’ll be right back. I need to get some condoms.” Josh ran his lips across Chris’s jaw. “I promise I won’t be long.”

Josh untangled himself and dug out some clothes from his suitcase beside the bed. Damn stupid idea to start sex and not have the necessary materials. He cursed and pulled on his jeans and a t-shirt and shoved his feet into his sandals. He exhaled, tucking his leaking cock carefully into his jeans, unable to contain the groan at the pressure when he forced the fly to fasten. Chris looked too good to leave. The upside was he’d get to finish what he’d started as soon as he returned.

Finding condoms and lube took long enough that Chris was on his stomach and breathing calmly by the time Josh got back; when the door closed, he slanted a look like nothing Josh had ever seen on his face before over his shoulder—it wasn’t so much a come-on as a challenge. Josh pressed the heel of his hand hard against the base of his cock to cut off his reaction before it could bring the evening to an early close and tossed the box and tube onto the bed, freeing his hands to strip faster than he ever had before.  Chris propped himself on an elbow to watch, openly appreciative. 

Josh moved the sheets tangled around Chris’s legs and took a moment to admire the view. Chris began to shift. Before he could turn, Josh moved; he lay his chest against the length of Chris’s back and kissed his straight hairline at his nape. Chris pushed back against his mouth and made a noise that shot down Josh’s spine, twisting as he reached back to capture a handful of Josh’s hair and draw him into another searing kiss. The sharp edge of lust that had dissipated while Josh was seeking supplies flashed back into pulsating life. His heart was beating so fast it was like he’d run the length of the ship to get back to Chris, back to this moment. The way Chris commanded the direction of their kiss had him breathing hard enough that he was light-headed and half drunk on the man under him.  He ran his hand through Chris’s hair, his other arm quaking from holding himself up.

“How do you like it?” Josh rubbed his cock against Chris’s warm skin, aching for an answer.

“What?” His voice sounded as wrecked as Josh’s felt, heavy and husky with arousal.

“Sex. How do you like it?”

“Mmm.” Chris arched upwards to reach Josh’s mouth and kissed him, his shoulder against Josh’s chest. It was an awkward angle, but Chris pushed, hungry and demanding even though he had to strain. He was gorgeous; it was one of the most incredible things Josh had ever seen. He committed every line and curve to memory, so that when this was an island in his mind, there would be a grain of sand devoted to this moment.

“How do you like it?”

Chris laughed. “I like it good.”

Josh pushed himself up and ran his fingers down Chris’s spine. “So do I. Okay, so do you top or bottom?”

“As long as it’s good, I don’t really have a preference.” His shoulder twitched in a half-shrug. “There’s a degree to which it depends who I’m with.”

“Okay.” Josh ran his hands down Chris’s flank, balanced on his knees.

“What’s your preference?”

“Top, but I’m not against trying new things.” Josh kissed his way down to the dip of Chris’s ass. Every bit of him smelled good. Tasted better.

“Good. I don’t think I’d want to give that up entirely.”

“Mm. I’m not a stereotype. I hope.” There wasn’t anything he could think of that he wouldn’t do with Chris; that scared and surprised him in a way that tangled up in his mind and sat in the middle of his chest like a knot.

Josh reached for the lube and flipped the cap open. The gel was cold on his fingers; he ran his thumb through it, trying to warm it before he touched Chris. He bit lightly down on Chris’s fabulous ass and slid his fingers down until he could feel the whorl of Chris’s asshole; it twitched and fluttered under his fingertips. Little by little, he felt Chris relax. He pushed two fingers in, felt Chris loosen then clamp around him. Then there was just inside Chris. The slow grip and slide of his fingers as he thrust, spreading as much of the lube as he could. There was no such thing as too much lube, and Josh wouldn’t be that guy who hurt his lover because he couldn’t be patient for a few more minutes. Chris was already trusting him with this, with his body, and Josh wasn’t going to do anything to make show that trust as misplaced 

Time lost its meaning while Josh worked on opening Chris. His body was warm and softly clinging, and so close to ready that Josh’s cock ached at the thought. He pressed against Chris and rubbed in a similar rhythm to the in-out of his fingers. When Chris was finally moaning and his breath hitched, Josh pulled his fingers out and wiped them on his discarded t-shirt. The lube had turned on its side, a little pouring out onto the bed, like the pre-come glistening on Chris’s thigh and ass. He picked it up and fumbled with the box of condoms. He ripped the packet open with his teeth and rolled it down his cock, trying not to fumble under Chris’s heated gaze. More lube, down the length, a few strokes, and he lined up. He knew it was going to be tight—not just because of how long it had been for Chris, but because Chris’s thighs were between his. This position, straddling from behind, was more intimate than Chris with his ass in the air. This way, he could go slow, or fast, and he still had access to Chris’s mouth, his shoulders…

He angled his hips and guided his cock into Chris, moaning as he slipped inside. Chris echoed him, his hips rising to meet Josh. He rocked, squirmed, but Josh steadied himself and kept his movements slow. Finding a rhythm was easy, as easy as breathing. He thrust with a roll of hips, barely pulling back, moving only enough to feel the clutch of Chris around him. He panted against Chris’s shoulder, his name, how good it felt, moans of appreciation and pleasure. Chris responded in his own way, moving against Josh, like it just wasn’t enough. Josh knew the feeling. It felt good, but something was missing. He stopped and withdrew, panting.

“Turn over.” His voice broke, but the sight was something to behold: Chris was panting and reaching for Josh, his legs opening in invitation, fingers gripping at his arms and skin. This was nothing like the usual Chris, tightly reserved and slow to warm up. Josh knew then that this was not something given lightly; it was more than just sex. It was reciprocated trust, him when the walls were down and he didn’t have to think; he could act on instinct and desire.

Josh lowered himself to kiss Chris and felt the other man’s fingers close around him, guiding him back inside.  Josh thrust only to stay seated where he was; Chris was moving again, shifting his legs around Josh’s hips and using his own leverage to make Josh move. He didn’t have to say a word. Josh understood; he was sex, pure and simple. His cock was red and soft against his abdomen, and he didn’t touch himself. But the way he moved and the sounds he made told Josh it wasn’t a requirement for his pleasure.

Still, Josh couldn’t resist; reaching down, he took hold of Chris’s cock and stroked, alternating his hip thrusts with the pump of his arm. That seemed to be perfect. Chris arched and moaned, his body shaking beneath Josh. He hardened in Josh’s hand, leaving a sticky trail across his skin. Chris unraveled a little more with each stroke and thrust. His face looked like a manifestation of ecstasy, it struck to Josh’s core and set light to something in his bones. He wiped sweat from his brow and moved faster, deeper until he felt Chris tighten around him: legs, ass, grip on his arms. His whole body clenched and the sound he made struck Josh in the balls, hot and electric, ripping through him like lightning. He jerked, groaned, pleasure sweeping through him in a dizzying rush. He felt lighter than air and barely heard the tangled litany of awe and praise that tumbled from his lips. 

There was an endless moment of rapture while Chris panted, lax under him, and he slumped, collapsing onto Chris’s chest.

He had no idea how long he stayed there, boneless and spread out over the other man. He was aware, as his senses returned, that he didn’t want to separate from Chris yet, but practicality and willpower prevailed: He took hold of the base of the condom and withdrew. He recognized a twinge of arousal at the sight of Chris’s hole going from loose enough to take him to a tiny, twitching furl. Chris looked drunk and satisfied; Josh felt wobbly, as if reality had taken a cruise of its own. He lay down next to Chris and pulled him in for a lazy, sloppy kiss. There were things he wanted to say but couldn’t; the words escaped him, and even if he could find them, Chris wouldn’t be ready to hear them. Instead, he showed his care with a warm, damp washcloth.

The bed was a mess, but Josh had a feeling they’d only be sharing a portion of it. He let Chris get up without complaint, when he was ready to freshen up.

When the room was dark and Chris was sleeping deeply, his arm lying along the line of Josh’s wrapped around his waist, Josh whispered against his ear. “I love you.”
 
***
 
Time was not on their side. Josh knew that, but he tried not to let it bother him. There was one day trip left before the boat returned to port and their normal lives resumed. They sat at one of the cafés and had a drink after lunch: a sweet and refreshing orange juice popular on the island. Josh rested his hand just over Chris’s, content. “Is there anything special you want to do before we get back to port?”

“Well, I’d quite like to pop back to the church. The verger said that she’d get the key to the organ loft, and I did promise that I’d play for you.”

“You did.” There was a lull. As his mind wandered, Josh started to frown. “I’ve been thinking about what happens after the cruise. I haven’t come up with anything that doesn’t mean one of us relocating. There isn’t, really, I guess. Do we just email and text until we either lose interest or find a solution? I really like you. I wouldn’t want to ruin something potentially worthwhile because of distance.”

Chris picked up the change in subject without comment. ”I don’t think it would be entirely reasonable for either of us to uproot completely and travel halfway across the planet at this stage.”

“I know.” Realistically, Josh did know. The impulsive romantic in him wanted that, though, on some level. “I’m not asking you to.”

“And nor would I ask you to.”

Always practical. Sometimes it got in the way, but Josh knew this wasn’t a game that he could press reset on if he screwed up; a relationship involved both of them and had to work by consent. It would never work otherwise. “I think we should give us a chance, though. I’m patient.”

“You can stop trying to sell your good points, you know. I’m well aware of them.” He was amused, but Josh had just felt the need to remind Chris that he was quite happy to wait… and wait some more, if it meant these feelings he had for Chris weren’t going to end up in both of their hearts broken. Josh saw it for the deflection it was; his face went hot and he chuckled.

“Sorry. I mean, there’s webcam chat and other things. I know you stay pretty busy. Email will probably have to be our primary contact. I guess. I’m rambling.” He swept his thumb across Chris’s knuckles. In a few days, he wouldn’t be able to do this anymore, unless it was in his dreams.

They went to the church and Josh sat and watched Chris play the organ.

The music was amazing, but the process took Josh’s breath away. He had expected deft work at the keyboard; he hadn’t expected four keyboards stacked on top of each other, and another laid out as pedals, and the dozens of knobs that changed the sounds made by the pipes. It looked chaotic and bewildering, but at the heart of it all, Chris was a study in focus and skill, drawing melody from the machine.

Josh listened and watched. He had to commit this and every moment with Chris to memory. It could be a long time before he saw him again.

***

The terminal in Miami was like an over-stocked fish tank. There were people everywhere, pushing through to their destinations without watching where they were going. He brushed his hand against Chris’s; their last night together had been great, their plan for keeping in contact settled, but after a month in their own private world, Josh wasn’t ready to let go. Their terminals were in different directions, departures at separate times… Josh knew it would only be a few hours before he was home. His sister Sabrina was picking him up at the Greensboro airport; his other sister and brother were with their parents, apparently.

It was hard to think of anything to say to Chris. ‘Goodbye’ felt too permanent, but ‘see you soon’ just wouldn’t be true. At least, they’d talk soon.

Josh’s flight was announced over the PA and as much as he wanted to kiss Chris, he left it at a half-smile and squeezing his hand. They’d talk soon. He knew that. Nothing he said would change the current outcome. He took a few steps and stopped. He wanted to say something. Nothing came to him, nothing useful anyway.

Finally, he headed to the gate, hoping for the best.
 
***
 
Sabrina was at baggage claim, already holding his things when Josh managed to make it through the throng. She smiled, and waved him over. The crowd here didn’t move as fast as it had in Miami, but there were plenty of people pushing and pulling to get to their destinations. Josh sighed, for the first time not wanting to reach his. It was just home, but he’d left a lot behind when he boarded his plane.

Sabrina chattered the whole way home, asking him questions he wasn’t ready to answer; he did anyway, just to make the ride home go a little faster.

She dropped him at his place reluctantly, only on condition that he promised to go by and see his parents as soon as he had taken care of a few things in his apartment. Sabrina gave him a look, but he just smiled and promised again; he had an email to send.
 

Dear Chris,
If this flight is anything like the one you took over here, I’m sure you’ll be jetlagged and tired when you get home. I just wanted to let you know that I’m home, and clearly already thinking about you. I hope you have a few days to settle in before going back to work. I can honestly say I’m missing the tropical climate. There’s snow and rain. Every idiot with the license is on the road. I’m glad I don’t have to go far to work. ;) I’ll try to call in a few days.
Josh

 
Josh closed his laptop and went out the back, where his truck waited. He drove to his parents’ house, met by Duke barking and scrabbling at the door. He let himself in and greeted his blissful dog, resigned to being shed and drooled on while he told his parents about his trip. Selected highlights only; he was deliberately vague about Chris. He didn’t want to deal with expectations before he had a clue about how the long-distance relationship would work out.

After dinner, he went home with Duke, who sat on his feet and gazed at him adoringly while he read his mail and caught up on telephone messages. He looked at his laptop and eventually gave in to checking his email, but there was nothing.

He didn’t get a reply from Chris for a few days. He’d half-expected that, but was immensely pleased when he saw Chris’s name at the top of his inbox. He clicked it and read.
 

Dear Josh,
I’m sorry that I haven’t been able to reply sooner; things have been rather busy here and, yes, I did have monstrous jet lag. Most of the snow has cleared, fortunately, but there is plenty of fog and rain. The dogs were very pleased to see me. I’ve attached a video from the first walk after I got back. How is your father?
Chris

 
Josh smiled and clicked on the video Chris had attached. His pack looked like a family of friends, diverse and full of personality. The view of Chris’s neighborhood was also educational. Everything seemed small, compact, like the little displays at Ikea: made to fit as much as possible in the little space available. He hit reply as soon as the video ended.
 

Hey, I’m glad everything’s okay. Loved the video. They’re quite the crowd, aren’t they? Dad’s all right. He seems to be feeling better, anyway. He doesn’t tend to tell me about these things and Mom sugar-coats everything. The store has been slow. I’m sure it’ll pick up soon. Here’re some photos from around the house and Duke with me at my parents’. Oh, and my siblings.
Josh

 
Even after only one set of email exchanges, Josh guessed there would always be a few-day gap in replies. Chris’s life was busy; he worked hard, and that had shown on him from the moment they’d met.

When Josh hadn’t heard from Chris in over a week, he called and left a message, hoping to hear his voice. Chris didn’t have a personal message, though; it was just the generic robotic greeting of a woman with an English accent and a beep. Josh sighed as he hung up. Part of him wondered if the last month had just been a dream. If it had been, his mind had a cruel sense of humor.

A few days later, he woke up to his phone showing a missed call from Chris. There was a voicemail, but it didn’t last long: Chris spoke a hurried, harried greeting and about half a sentence more before what had to be a student howled ‘Sir!’ and the call ended. It was nice to hear Chris’s voice, though. He stopped thinking the cruise had been a dream.
 

Morning. I got your message, well, what was there before the ‘Sir!’ in the background. I haven’t heard from you in a while, so I’d hoped to catch you on the phone. Are you running yourself ragged?
Josh

 
Josh closed his laptop. It would be a while before he got a response. He went to his parents’ house and made dinner for them. His dad had been having a few strange days. Josh caught him crying in the garage while he looked into a toolbox. Sabrina told him their dad had been too tired to go fishing with his buddies over the weekend, and his brother had told him their dad didn’t remember calling him earlier that day to talk about his grandchildren. Josh knew something was wrong, but he was helpless. Their mother saw it, and she attributed it to age. Josh wasn’t a medical expert, but he also knew this was more than his dad’s time of life. It worried him.

Slowly, his evenings at his apartment became evenings at his parents’ house.

He wished he could talk to Chris. He felt stupid sending another email before he got a reply from the last one, so he restrained the urge and focused instead on his family, striving to control the growing worry. His dad had good days and bad days in phases, and Josh found himself starting to wonder whether it was something viral, or or his blood sugar, or something equally simple. Relieved of that worry, his mind turned to Chris and his sporadic emails again. 

He should’ve told him how he felt before he’d left Miami; he knew that now. Things might have played out differently if he had. He still had time to make up for not saying anything, though. He opened a search engine and began looking for deals for flights to London. They weren’t all as exorbitantly priced as he’d thought they might be; it created a real possibility. Next time he heard from Chris, he’d see what he thought about it.

An email came in a week later.
 

Good evening, Josh,
I’m afraid my phone is usually off, silent, or dead because I’ve failed to charge it recently. I’ve been rather busy lately, but I’m not running myself ragged. I have half a dozen very promising boys in my current crops - two of them are working towards Bishop’s Chorister, and of course I’m having to work very hard on my cellist, since it really isn’t my instrument; I’ve been doing private tuition, so my evenings seem to have disappeared, such as they were. Is it dreadful of me to say that I rather miss the leisure of the piano lounge?
Chris

 
Josh didn’t think before he hit reply. He missed Chris, too, more and more each day.
 

Chris, No, I miss the piano lounge, too. I have quite a few fond memories of being there. Definitely you. I miss our nights together. I knew this would be hard, but to be honest, I didn’t realize how hard. My dad’s sick again. Seems like the flu, but I’m no doctor. Mom’s beside herself. They’re running some tests, but there’s nothing definitive yet. I was thinking about taking a trip soon. Before or after Easter. Would that be good for your schedule?
Josh

 
A couple of days later, Josh had a response waiting.
 

Josh
I’m sorry to hear that your father’s unwell. Has he heard from the doctor yet? I hope it’s just viral. I miss you. It would be lovely to see you whenever suits you - before Easter would be marginally easier, but, really, I will do everything I can to work around you.
Chris

 
Josh smiled and said he’d give Chris the details as soon as he had them worked out. He got up and looked out the window facing the town square and imagined seeing Chris again, being with Chris again, feeling Chris again. He was glad he hadn’t been alone in missing Chris. Knowing it was reciprocated made him even more determined to get the details worked out to go to England as soon as possible. He couldn’t wait anymore. Winter had turned into spring; going without Chris any longer, he thought he might go insane. There had been so much to do, so much on his shoulders that he wanted to fall into being at Chris’s mercy—the guest and not the one making all the decisions. He investigated flights and taxis, dates and times, the requirements for taking Duke with him to meet Chris’s pack, and the thousands of details involved in crossing the planet; Chris helped with information about the England end of the flight where he could, and Josh braced himself to tell his parents that he planned to visit the man he’d met on the cruise. They took it better than he’d expected, his mother misty-eyed and hopeful that he might finally settle down, and his father seemingly concerned with little beyond confirming that the guy was happy to have Duke over as well as Josh. His dad’s health seemed to stabilize, though Josh and his mother coaxed and coerced him into having his bloods drawn when the doctor’s appointment finally came round. 

The test results came in on a Monday afternoon. Josh was at the counter, taking a customer’s debit card and the phone rang. He thanked the woman and answered.

His stomach plummeted.

He couldn’t do anything with the store open, but he made the decision to close early. Writing the apology for the door was difficult with his hands shaking; the letters were barely better-shaped than a twelve-year-old’s. He managed to finish and taped it to the door, then went straight to his parents’ house.

Chris never left his thoughts, but things became hectic far sooner than he’d thought possible. Abandoned by his siblings with the excuse that they all had families to look after and were busy with work, he moved into his parents’ house. Appointments, prescriptions, and being therapist to his mother came before everything else. His life sank into overwhelmed carer for his father. A few days before he’d planned to leave, he pulled out his laptop. He didn’t want to have to write what was coming, but he had no choice. He sat for a moment and let the madness of it all take over. His loss—Chris, his father’s sickness, having to take on so much, without help. This wasn’t how he wanted things to be.

A pack of cigarettes sat on the corner of his kitchen divider. Josh looked at it, knowing he never should have bought them. It would be so easy to tear the cellophane open, pull the foil and spark a lighter while inhaling. He’d feel the rush of it for a few minutes before it died and he tried to find it again. It was so tempting to throw away all of his hard work in quitting.

To hell with it. He tossed the pack in the garbage.

He collected himself and composed the email.
 

This time I should apologize for not writing sooner. We know what’s wrong with Dad now. He has multiple sclerosis. I won’t be able to take that trip after all. The one thing in the world I want to do, and I can’t. My brother and sisters are saying that because I don’t have a family, I’m better suited to help mom and dad. I’ll be moving into their house. I’ll leave you the new address.

It feels like the world is against us.

 
***
 
Josh looked at his inbox. There had been a few sporadic emails from Chris after the sympathetic response about his father’s diagnosis, but the gaps had grown in their correspondence. Their one attempt at the web-cam thing had been an unmitigated disaster: Chris apparently lived in an area of poor network coverage and his internet connection was flaky at the best of times. Josh felt defeated. The last email he’d received had been two months ago. Josh clicked on it and replied again. He kept it simple and hoped that Chris would understand. Heartbreak and dealing with his father weren’t two things he could handle together. It was one of the hardest things he’d ever done.
 

Chris,
I had a great time. I’m glad I met you.
Josh

 
***
 
August rolled in with the heat of lava on its tail. Josh was certain if the door of the book store was open too long, he’d find out that 451 degrees was just a random number and that the books would in fact burn themselves to ash in the 109 degree heat. The air conditioning was on sixty-five, but the swelter rippling through the city was enough to steal the breath from his lungs if he took a step outside. That morning, the news had a warning for sexagenarians and older and asthmatics to take frequent breaks in the shade and to drink lots of water if they were planning to go out before dark. Really the warning applied to everyone. Damned news station always singled out one group or another every broadcast, so it wasn’t that much of a surprise that senior citizens were the target that day.

The store was slow. Summer sapped everyone of their energy; sensible people stayed home with the air conditioning and online shopping. Only a brave or foolhardy few made it through the doors.

One of Josh’s regulars browsed the New Releases section, muttering his disapproval of the unusual volumes Josh had selected and his disdain for the current Bestsellers. He really did think the store needed some changes. Maybe setting up a delivery service would increase customers…

Something butted his leg. Josh didn’t need to look to recognize a dog’s head, but it was too low to belong to Duke and he frowned, eyes drifting downwards. It was a Labrador. A naggingly familiar Labrador.

“Hey, what the hell? Who let all these damn dogs in here?” That was his customer, Mr. Bradley.

Dogs… Josh turned toward the door.

“Chris?” The book in Josh’s hands tipped forward and fell the floor in slow motion. It hit the floor and flipped, its pages wrinkling.

“Mr. Bradley, I’m sorry. The book’s on me. If you don’t mind.” The words left his mouth without conscious volition; he was dimly aware of Mr. Bradley’s grunted, cussed acceptance, but his attention was fixed on the doorway and the man standing in it.

It was hot, impossibly, unhealthily hot; it was possible he was imagining things. Duke, however, was sniffing a Greyhound, the Labrador was inspecting Josh’s shoes, and there was definitely a Papillion prancing around the bestseller display. 

“I was going to take them to the house; I couldn’t bear to leave them. The flight was dreadful.” Chris looked a little guilty and apologetic, just as he had more than once during the cruise. Josh decided that if it was a hallucination, he’d kill the person who tried to make him see the real world.

“House?” Josh stepped down from behind the counter.

“They had to travel in the cargo hold.” This was a bad thing, Josh could tell. His brain wasn’t engaging just yet, though, and Chris was rambling. “The house is on a road called Sawgrass Lane; it’s the high school music teacher’s.” He smiled nervously. “We’ve job-swapped for a while.”

Noise erupted from everywhere without warning, the dogs having apparently decided that introductions were over and playtime had begun. Josh couldn’t think, and barely registered the chaos breaking out around him. ‘Job-swap’ echoed around his skull, the concept so enormous as to be almost meaningless. Maybe the heat had melted his brain. He stared at Chris. Job-swap meant that for at least a term, maybe even a school year, Chris would be there, with Josh. Chris was there with Josh.

Josh closed the distance between him and Chris. He reached out and pulled Chris against him, melting into him. He found Chris’s lips and kissed him, pouring his sorrow, loss, confusion, love into the contact. Everything became a haze.

“I thought I’d lost you.” Josh slumped against Chris.

“No. I just had a lot to do, to get this arranged by the end of term. I didn’t want to tell you in case I couldn’t pull it off.”

“So that’s why you stopped emailing?”

“I couldn’t think of anything else to talk about.” The apology was in his voice and the brush of his fingertips over Josh’s jaw.  ”I’m not a natural liar; I couldn’t come up with a reason for not being around. I’m sorry. I… took the bit between my teeth, really, and got rather blinkered.”

Josh kissed him again. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Relief flooded Chris’s smile. “So am I. And I’m glad you haven’t just told me where to stick it.”

The idea was almost laughable. ”Hardly. I love you.”

Chris rested his forehead against Josh’s. “You’d still be well within your rights to be furious.”

“No. I mean, yeah. But I’d rather appreciate knowing it all worked out than push you away.”

“It’s a bit soon to say, isn’t it? I mean, that’s why I’m here. This isn’t just a month-long thing; I’ve got a year. That should give us time.”

Josh couldn’t stop smiling. “Only time will tell.” He kissed Chris again, thankful and overwhelmed. “Definitely willing to take the time, though.”


***

Epilogue
The house smelled like pine and cinnamon. Josh closed the door of the borrowed house behind him and went to the kitchen. If Chris didn’t already have a Martini, he wouldn’t turn one down, and Josh needed a moment to change gears from care-taker to boyfriend. The step-by-step of it was comforting: order in the midst the chaos his dad’s illness had caused. He knew it was no fault of his father’s; he didn’t blame him. It was just life. He had Chris and his health; that was enough.

When he finished mixing the drink, he took it through to the living room with his own beer. Chris sat on the sofa, his usual composed self, with a red pen in one hand, a student’s textbook in the other, and a contemplative look on his face. The dogs lay around in the lazy warmth of the house, one big pile of canine love, their numbers augmented by the Irish Setter Chris had brought home within weeks of starting his job. Duke looked at Josh when he sat down beside Chris, and Josh had to quell a weird urge to apologize to the dog for letting Chris oust him from his accustomed place. Duke had been used to lying across the sofa with Josh, but Chris didn’t like them on the furniture, which was reasonable enough given their numbers and size. Chris’s dogs were happy, but disciplined: Duke’s bad habits slowly disappeared in the six months he’d had Chris as a second master.

Chris smiled and accepted the Martini. “You’ve had a rough day.”

“Yeah.” Josh sighed, grateful Chris knew him well enough to see it without having to be told. “At least it’s Christmas. Sabrina and her brood are there now.” He shifted, never really sure if Chris wanted to hear the details. If he explained what was going on, there was never a complaint, which went a long way to easing Josh’s nerves; Chris didn’t say much about it, but he listened sympathetically, and that was support in itself. “He started laughing at absolutely nothing today. Then cried for an hour.” Chris clasped Josh’s wrist, a gesture that made him feel like he had a new foundation to stand on. “Can I stay here tonight?”

“Of course you can.” Chris sipped his drink. There was more that Josh could say, but nodding and settling closer to Chris said more than any words.

“You’ve got something on your mind, too.”

Chris laughed. “I have. Probably not in the way you’re thinking, though.” He gave a wry smile. “What would you say to being stuck with me for a little longer?”

“I’d say it’d be the best news I’ve heard for a while.” A year had never felt like long enough, but Josh hadn’t planned to complain: He was grateful for any time they had together.

“I’ve been offered a job. A permanent one, not just an exchange.”

“Yeah?” Josh sat up a little more and looked at Chris, smiling.

“At a university in Salisbury.”

“What did you tell them?” He was almost, almost certain that he knew. Chris wouldn’t have raised if he’d turned it down, surely... 

“That I’d be pleased to accept.”

A weight Josh had felt since Chris had arrived on a trial basis lifted. “That’s the best Christmas present I think you could’ve given me.”

Chris gave him one of those rare, dizzying smiles, but his ingrained practicality wouldn’t let him let it lie there. ”I’m going to have to find a house. The Rosses will need this one back.”

Josh leaned against Chris. “What if we found a house?”

He was rewarded with a deep, lingering kiss. ”I was hoping that you’d say that.”

Josh smiled. “Any ideas yet?”

“There’s a couple a few doors down from your parents who have family in Miami. They’re thinking of selling up.”

The world swam giddily for a moment.  ”You really want to live that close to my parents?”

“You don’t?”

“It’s not that. That means you’re in it for the long haul.”

Chris nodded. “I am.” As if Josh shouldn’t even have needed to wonder.

Josh leaned in and kissed him. Chris had done the research already, accepted the job, made his commitment to Josh. “I love you. Thank you.”

Chris looked back at him, face softened in one of his rare moments of complete openness, and Josh didn’t need the words: Chris loved him. “Do you like that house?”

Chris shrugged lightly, settling back into his usual tranquility. “It has a suitable number of walls and apertures and so forth. I’m really more interested in the company.”

Josh smiled. “We can make it ours.” He paused for a moment. “I’m glad you’re staying. It honestly takes some of the stress away.”

“Good.”

And Josh knew—knew—Chris meant it. It was a feeling bone-deep and that blossomed in his chest like nothing he’d ever felt before. He settled against Chris’s side and watched the fire while the man he loved resumed his grading. The Christmas tree they’d bought and decorated together twinkled gently in the corner by the window, and their dogs stretched, snuffled and snored contentedly. The last few months had been as good as the evenings in the piano lounge, but this was better. He had everything he wanted. Chris might have been the reluctant one at first, but he’d uprooted his whole life for Josh, and Josh couldn’t have wished for anything more. It was perfect. The fire crackled every now and then, a familiar and comfortable sound that would always mean Chris in his mind. He looked forward to their own house, their new lives together.

Josh closed his eyes and drifted, knowing he had exactly what he needed.


Jules R. Walker & Lee Marchais/Unexpectet Gift 41