“Well, I’m sure it’s no surprise that I’m perfectly happy to spend a quiet evening. You know me. Mr. Excitement, I am not.”
“Cool. Why don’t we take a walk before heading back to the room? I think I ate so damn much that if I lie down right now, I might never be able to get back up. And it’s only day one!” Penn says, and we both laugh.
We’re on our way out of the dining room when someone calls out to us from the other side.
“Mr. Penn!” One of the servers is waving at him, a big, friendly smile on his face.
“Hey, Milan. Have a great night.” Penn returns the smile and waves back.
As we meander back toward our room, past the shops and bars, at least five or six different crew members say hello to Penn, all of them calling him by name. He greets each person with a sunny smile, inexplicably knowing all their names.
“How do you do that?” I ask.
He looks at me quizzically. “Do what?”
“How do you know all these people already?” I ask. Seriously, how could he have managed to get to know all these people in such a short time? We’ve only been on the damn ship for half a day!
Penn shrugs. “I don’t really know. I just get to know people easily. Always have. I like talking to them and hearing their stories, you know? People are interesting to me.”
“You’re a classic extrovert,” I say with admiration. “I’m the opposite. I’m super introverted, but I wish I could be more like you.”
Penn chuckles. “That’s funny because I used to wish I was more like you. My family certainly would have liked me a lot better if I’d been quieter and more serious.” He pauses before continuing. “In some ways, I think my habit of talking to anyone and everyone was a way to rebel against my family. I was never encouraged to talk to people who didn’t meet with their approval. I was supposed to be ‘choosy’ about who I associated with.”
We’re walking through the “Central Park” section of the ship, where the trees are strung with fairy lights and strategically placed ground lighting shines onto the lush plants. Warm, soft air surrounds us, and faint music from the wine bar drifts over us, along with sounds of muted laughter and chatter as people enjoy the first night of their holiday.
“What does that mean?” I ask. “Like, they were afraid you were going to fall into a bad crowd or something?”
Penn chuckles. “Well, I suppose that’s one way of thinking about it. But their definition of a bad crowd wasn’t kids who cut class or spent their lunch hours in the smoking area. It was more that I was encouraged to always be aware of everyone’s social status and their family’s bank account.”
“Really? That sounds like something out of the eighteenth century.”
He lets out a wry chuckle. “In some ways, it is. My parents are very transactional. They don’t spend time with people who don’t have the right amount of power or money or other social capital. So we were always taught to be polite to staff, but beingactuallyfriendly to waiters or other service people was a step too far. That might give them the wrong impression.”
“The wrong impression being that they’re just as important as you are?” I ask, suddenly taking a very strong dislike to Penn’s extended family.
“Exactly,” he says, not looking at me. We’ve reached our cabin, and he pulls out his key card, swiping us into the room while avoiding my eyes. “Their world isn’t built on equality. It’s all about scratching each other’s backs.”
“Jesus, that sounds fucking exhausting,” I say, shaking my head. There are plenty of wealthy folks in the tech world, but the culture is a lot different there than it is in the oil business, apparently.
“Yeah. I was never great at figuring out who I was supposed to be friendly with and who I was just supposed to be polite to, so I just started being friendly to everyone.” He snorts. “My mother was not a fan of this approach to life. But by the time I started making friends with every Tom, Dick, and Harry I ran into on the street, including our cooks, cleaning staff, gardeners, and pool maintenance guys, they were starting to understand that there was no way I was ever going to turn into the son they really wanted. So, they started focusing on my younger sister and brother. Following the rules came a lot more easily to them.” He snickers. “And let me tell you, as a gay teenager, I was more than happy to talk to gardeners and pool boys. I had a very rich fantasy life with all those guys parading around, providing ample material for my spank bank.”
I bark out a laugh. “Well, however it started, you have a natural way of making people comfortable. That's a special thing; I really wish I had even a little bit of that.”
We share a smile, and his cheeks turn a delicious shade of pink while a melty, warm feeling spreads throughout my lower belly. That sweet, shy smile of his does things to me. And there’s a strong desire growing inside me to keep making him smile that way.
Chapter fourteen
Penn
The stateroom door clicks shut behind us, and I’m suddenly hyperaware of every inch of space in here. It’s too small to hide my nerves, too quiet to drown out the thumping of my heart in my ears. God, I am not used to feeling nervous before getting into bed with a guy. If there’s one place I’m confident, it’s in bed, but this situation is new. We’re not jumping into bed so we can fuck like bunnies. In fact, I don’t even know if we’re going to hook up at all.
Hunter disappears into the bathroom, mumbling something about having a shower, and I get changed in record time, fueled by nervous energy. My pajama pants are a soft barrier I’m not sure I want, but I don't know what we're doing here. It's like I'm lost without my handy GPS to tell me where to steer things. I slide between the cool, crisp sheets, trying to focus on the feel of their softness against my still-warm skin.
The sound of running water stops, and my pulse kicks up a notch. Hunter emerges from the bathroom, damp hair clinging to his forehead, and my mouth goes dry. He’s wearing thin, well-worn sweatpants that hang off his hips in a way that should be illegal.
“Your turn,” he murmurs, avoiding my gaze as he settles into bed. The awkwardness between us is thick enough to cut with a knife.
“Thanks,” I manage to choke out, slipping out of bed and into the bathroom. I brush my teeth mechanically, trying to focus on anything other than the possibility of what might—or might not—happen tonight.
