“And I came here, intending to chastise you for it, and to perhaps comfort you a little, too, only to then see this pathetic room you’re staying in and”—he let out a huff—“and now I’m frustrated with the White Star Line as well.” He shook his head. “I mean, look at this place. Someone as competent as you ought to be offered a space on B-Deck. Or at least your own room.”
Warmth unfurled in James’s chest, and he smiled as his cheeks began to flush. Cassian hadn’t been thinking less ofhim, only of the room.
“I’m happy enough here,” James said. “I promise.”
Cassian seemed to think this over for a second.
“Alright. Good,” he finally replied.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, during which James concentrated on mustering up the courage to explain to Cassian just how horrible he felt about everything. But before he could, two other stewards came into the room, chatting and laughing. Cassian and James looked at each other.
“Where can we go?” Cassian mouthed.
James chewed on his bottom lip as he considered the question. Finally, he thought of something and stood, motioning for Cassian to follow. Keeping his head high, James strode through the corridor toward the food storage area. Cassian followed.
Hopefully, as long as James looked confident, no one would question them about where they were going. James must have been convincing enough in his posture and his swagger because he and Cassian soon reached a room that James knew would most likely be empty without issue: the potato storage room.
Hurrying inside, James braced himself as the wave of cold air slammed into him, making him shudder. After Cassian came in, James shut the door, and then he smiled a bashful smile as he shoved his hands into his pockets. Cassian’s eyes scanned the shelves of burlap sacks.
“Are these—”
“Potatoes,” James confirmed.
After a pause, Cassian shook his head and chortled.
“James, is this meant to be an insult?”
“No, why?” James asked, his brow furrowing.
“Just a playful prank, then?” Cassian said, a lilt in his voice. But James could only stare. He had no idea what Cassian was trying to insinuate. Cassian sighed. “Because of the potatoes I ordered.”
“Oh!” James blurted out. “Oh, God, no, Cassian. I swear I wasnottrying to poke fun at you. I knew that this room was likely to be empty right now, is all.”
“Ah, well, that’s a shame.” Cassian smirked. “It would have been clever of you.”
Even though James knew that Cassian was only intending to banter, his chest still pinched from the comment. His eyes fell to his shoes.
“I can’t even be clever when you want me to be,” he lamented pathetically, his voice barely above a whisper. He took a breath and prepared to say what he needed to say. “Cassian, I’m so sorry for making a mess of things. First, in the lounge, and then later, in the saloon.” Remorse and self-reproach both bubbled to the surface, bringing tears with them. James tried to blink them back. He kepthis head low so that maybe Cassian wouldn’t see them. “I feel so horrible. All I ever wanted was to be... whatever you wanted me to be, but...”
One tear fell. And then another.
Dammit, what was wrong with him?
“James,” Cassian said, his voice warm, but stern, “look at me.”
Reluctantly, James obeyed. He lifted his chin to look into Cassian’s eyes while his own continued to fill with humiliating tears.
“Apologies arenotnecessary,” Cassian said. “You’re perfectly fine as you are.”
James swallowed thickly past the lump in his throat. He wanted to be so much more than fine.
“Perfectly middling, you mean,” James replied, hating how his voice wobbled.
“No,” Cassian said with a curt shake of his head. “Not middling.” He cupped James’s chin. “Exceptional.”
James’s cheeks warmed, and a few more tears spilled from his eyes, which only made his face burn hotter. He still couldn’t understand the reason he felt such an insatiable, fervent need to please the man before him. Or even how he’d come to fall for him so fast. What had at first begun as an innocent enough crush—something silly for James to let himself indulge in so that he might finally break free of the fog of numbness and grief, even if only for the length of their voyage—had somehow become so much more.
Cassian raised his other hand to James’s face, and he started to wipe away James’s tears with his thumbs.
