Out of Frame

by Megan Erickson

She checked her watch. “It’s, uh, not even lunchtime.”

  I grabbed her wrist and hauled her up and toward the door. “It’s five o’clock somewhere.”

  Chapter Two

  J. R.

  I knew when I signed up for Trip League that it was a real possibility I’d be on a boat at some point. But that still didn’t prepare me for actually boarding this fucking thing. It didn’t matter that it was over one hundred thousand gross registered tons (I read the brochure). I didn’t give a shit. My body knew I wasn’t on solid ground, and the ship hadn’t even pulled away from the dock yet to sail around the Caribbean.

  This was going to be a long-ass trip.

  I shoved my hands in my pockets and pulled my shades over my eyes as I squinted at the sun overhead. Casey was beside me, pointing out hot chicks. And it said something about how miserable I was because I couldn’t even get excited about all the barely there bikinis in my near vicinity. The deck was already a party—the bass from the music thudded through my body and the bartenders shouted out drink orders. We were up on a stage near the pool where we were supposed to look effortless and cool. I was pretty sure I looked queasy and bored.

  “This is our chance, man.” The sea air ruffled Casey’s blond hair as he flashed me his white grin. “We finally get to live it up. Party like rock stars. Get laid like fucking kings.”

  I tried to get excited about that and failed.

  He bumped me with his elbow. I shoved him back, a little harder than I meant to. He laughed it off, but his brow furrowed, like he knew I was giving him the back-off sign. That was the one good thing about this fucking reputation I’d earned, no matter how ill-deserved. If I wanted to be left alone, my castmates left me alone.

  Selena Gutierrez walked over and stood beside me as she flung her long, dark hair over her shoulder. “How you feeling?”

  She was wearing a red bikini top and some sort of flowy skirt. There’d been a lot of drama lately with her and Casey—they had a messed up on-again, off-again relationship—so it was nice to see her happy. They were off-again right now, which was for the best. “Fine. I just don’t like boats.”

  She tilted her head. “Really? But you got on that airboat in New Orleans and didn’t say anything about it.”

  “That was because if I didn’t go, they were going to make us all do something else, and I felt bad because you wouldn’t stop talking about wanting to see the alligators.”

  She stuck out her lower lip. “Aw, so you went on the boat for me?”

  “I went on the boat so I wouldn’t have to hear you yapping about the damn alligators anymore.”

  She smiled, like she knew something I didn’t. “Yeah, whatever, J. R. You big sweetheart.” I glared, and she laughed at me. “Well, I’m going to enjoy this boat, too. And maybe we’ll see dolphins.”

  “I’ll cross my fingers for you,” I mumbled as I wandered away from her and Casey.

  I wasn’t in the mood for conversation, and I knew in a couple of minutes I was going to have to be “on.”

  Leaning against a pillar on the side of the stage, I scanned the crowd of spring breakers that I’d be spending the next seven days with. This was a party, and I really should let go and live it up, as Casey said, but the years of keeping my guard up had rendered me unable to fucking drop it. That wall I’d held in place for so long had been rusted over and covered with ivy. I wondered, when I was finally done with Trip League after this season, if I’d ever be able to be normal. I didn’t even know what normal was. I’d never really lived as me.

  So the closer I got to this future that had been the carrot dangling in front of me for so long . . . well . . . I was starting to realize it was just a carrot. And I didn’t like carrots.

  A head in the crowd caught my eye. A flash of golden-red hair. I followed the kid as he made his way down the deck. Well, he wasn’t a kid—everyone onboard was twenty-one or older—but after everything I’d been through with this show, these carefree college students felt like kids to me.

  This one, though—he was standing with a girl. Long blond hair. Pretty. I would have been content to stare at her if he wasn’t standing there. Because I couldn’t stop looking at him. Red hair, just a shade on the blond side. Big round, blue eyes. He wore a tank top and had freckles that blotted the pale skin on his shoulders and down his toned arms. He laughed at something the girl said, and I found myself smiling at the sight of it. If I’d seen a picture of him, he might not have even stood out to me. But in person, I did notice. The way he shimmied his hips when the chorus of the song came on. The way he jerked his head to flip the hair out of his eyes. The way he seemed to have no idea that he was someone worth watching. He sipped his drink, something light green that looked like a margarita, and pursed his pink lips at something his friend—girlfriend?—said.

  He was probably straight.

  And I was supposed to be.

  It said so right in my contract.

  I was about to look away, swear to God, when he took his finger and swiped at something on his margarita glass. He stuck his finger in his mouth, and I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry.

  My body jolted with that undeniable heat of attraction, and what followed shortly on its heels was panic. Pure panic.

  This couldn’t be happening now, not when I was so close to the finish line.

  It hadn’t been that difficult to keep my attraction to guys a secret as long as I did. I liked girls too, and it wasn’t often that I found a guy I was attracted to. So it was inconvenient as hell that this was happening now.

  How was I going to get through this cruise if some strange, probably straight guy was getting me hard? Fuck.

  But hey, it was a big ship. The odds were I wouldn’t see him again. I clung to that hope with everything I had. I’d made it this far. I couldn’t fail now, not when my family back home was depending on me.

  Something bumped my hip and I turned to the side. Levi Grainger stood next to me, his gaze on the crowd. He tapped his finger to his lips. “Well, I’m going to need to start making a list of all the hotties.”

  I didn’t answer. When I’d first met him, I’d wanted to hate him. He could be openly gay because he didn’t have a shitty agent who’d advised him not to be. Levi was a nice guy, and I’d been a royal asshole to him at first. I’d tried to make up for it ever since. He didn’t hold it against me, and now we were pretty good friends. He probably thought I was a reformed homophobe. If only he knew.

  “What about you?” he asked. “See any potential conquests?”

  Conquests? Who talked like that? Oh, right. Levi did. “Uh, saw a redhead, actually.”

  “Oh, really? Nice. What was she wearing?”

  I looked out over the crowd but didn’t see my guy anymore. I remembered, though. He wore a pair of gray shorts and a light blue tank top. Black flip-flops. “Uh, I wasn’t paying much attention to her clothes.”

  Levi laughed. “She probably wasn’t wearing much.”

  “Right.”

  He squinted. “I’m thinking maybe I’m in the mood for a football player. There have to be football players on this cruise, right? Football’s in the fall?”

  I smiled. “Football’s in the fall. I’ll keep my eyes open for you.”

  He fist-pumped the air. “It’s on.”

  Gazing back at the rest of our cast members—there were six of us total—I sighed. “Aren’t we supposed to be doing something? Or are we just standing up here?”

  He shrugged. “I think we’re supposed to throw out beads later. And then there will be free Bahama Mamas for the whole ship.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “For real? They want everyone shit-faced right out of the gate, huh?”

  “Makes for good TV.”

  I hummed under my breath. Sure. And then a bunch of drunk, testosterone-fueled assholes would start a fight with J. R. Butler because that was w
hat always happened.

  Levi made his way over to the rest of the castmates and I followed him. In addition to me, Casey, Selena, and Levi, there was also Paisley Chapman—a quiet girl who made me laugh—and Adriana Lee.

  I’d seen the show, and the editors had done exactly what they were told to do: stereotype us—keep us in our little boxes—and there we’d stay. I was the angry black kid. Casey was the hot jock who slept around. Selena was the sassy Latina. Paisley was the shy, virginal brunette. Levi was the effeminate twink, and Adriana was the smart Japanese girl.

  When I’d signed up at nineteen, the show had been on for only two seasons. I didn’t think any of us were experienced enough to know what the show was about and how we’d be portrayed. By the time our season was filmed, I had just turned twenty-one. Now I was twenty-two and ready to end this whole fucking thing. Which was good since our season was drawing to a close, so a whole new cast of suckers would be picked soon.

  I hoped I wouldn’t be known forever as the guy the show portrayed me to be. All I’d ever wanted to do was be an actor. I’d thought this was my shot. Now I wondered if it was my demise. It was a pretty depressing thought at twenty-two. I was just a hell of a good time lately.

  I also wondered what the live-feed cameras would show. It seemed risky to me that they’d take this chance, but whatever. Not my decision.

  Paisley was sitting on a chair in the corner of the stage. I pulled one in front of me and straddled it, setting my arms over the back and placing my chin on my wrists. “What’s up?”

  She yawned. “Is it dinnertime yet?”

  I laughed. “Apparently everyone has to get drunk before dinner.”

  She made a face. “Are you bummed Andrea couldn’t come?”

  My imaginary girlfriend was so real to me at this point that I didn’t even hesitate. “I’m a little bummed, but it’s okay. She’s busy at her internship.”

  I figured go big or go home, and the love of my life Andrea was studying to be a lawyer. She had a job as an intern at a law firm in New York. She was clearly too good for me. If she actually existed.

  Paisley nodded. “Good for her. Maybe after this is over I can meet her?”

  I looked into her hazel eyes and wished I didn’t have to lie to her. “Sure. Sorry, she’s just really private.”

  “I get it.”

  Paisley wasn’t really shy, she just didn’t talk unless she felt like she had something important to say. It was why I liked her so much. “You remembered to bring the Xbox, right?”

  She eyed me. “Duh, of course.”

  We often played Assassin’s Creed on our downtime, and she kicked my ass. She said she liked that I didn’t get upset that I was “beaten by a girl.” I told her, hell no. She was the best gamer I knew. It was an honor to play with her. I was one of the few people who knew she used to dress up in sexy clothes and videotape herself playing video games, then upload them online. She made a lot of money doing that under an alias. Shy virginal brunette, my ass.

  My lips were sealed on that secret. I wished I could tell her mine, but at this point, I didn’t even know how to come clean.

  Doug Collins, our producer, walked over to us. “We’re a couple minutes away from departure and then we’re going to get the party started.” He winked. “Have fun.”

  This was our last hurrah. Our send-off after spending a year as the crew of Trip League. And then my life could finally start. I smiled weakly at Paisley, and she smiled back.

  I could get through this. As long as I didn’t see that redhead again.

  ***

  Quinn

  After grabbing margaritas from the bar on the deck, we walked around, waiting for the time the boat was to depart from the harbor. Jess had her phone up to her ear, listening as Colin told her where he and Riley stood below so they could wave as Mia headed out.

  It seemed like every passenger was out on the deck now, huddling in groups, dancing to the top-forty music blasting from the speakers, and waving to the crowd below. I saw one girl heave over the side of the boat. We hadn’t even left yet, so I assumed it was from a hangover and not motion sickness.

  “Your Sea-Bands won’t help her,” Jess muttered.

  I smiled and took a sip of my margarita. Okay, more like a gulp. I licked the salt from my lips, then ran my finger down the condensation on my glass, catching another grain of salt. As I stuck my finger in my mouth, a weird sensation pricked the back of my neck, like someone was watching me. I looked around quickly, but there were so many people surrounding us, heads swiveling. I figured I was jumpy from the adrenaline and the margarita, so I shrugged and took another sip. Er, gulp.

  I saw some movement on a stage by the other side of the boat, but Jess was tugging on my arm, urging me to follow her in the opposite direction, so I lost sight of the commotion.

  We squeezed along the railing between a safety boat and a group of girls wearing sorority letters. Jess stuck her hand over the railing and waved. I peeked from over her shoulder and spotted Colin and Riley below. Riley waved both hands in the air, while Colin stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled. Jess blew a kiss.

  A loud horn sounded and a voice over the loudspeaker announced we were leaving the harbor. I barely even realized that the ship was moving, but Colin and Riley were starting to slip off to the side, until they were no longer visible and we were on our way.

  Mia would take us around the islands of the Caribbean. We’d be on the ship for eight days. Eight days of doing nothing but eating, drinking, and wasting time.

  Once the people on the dock looked like ants, I swore I could hear the metaphorical snapping of cut leashes as the students on the boat realized they were home free. No school. No parents. Just a cruise ship filled with flesh and alcohol. I’d heard of massive frat parties in mansions at some of the biggest universities, but I doubted they held a candle to what I was in the midst of as the shouts went up and the bass of the music shook the deck beneath us.

  This trip almost didn’t happen. I’d been with Alexander for two years, one of which I hadn’t even realized I was his gay secret that he never planned on telling anyone about. We’d decided on spending this spring break together, until I finally formed a backbone and broke up with him.

  It still stung to think about all those times he’d never held my hand in public, never acknowledged in any way that we were together. That we were supposed to be in love. And that he expected me to go along with it, like I didn’t have my own opinions or desires.

  Whatever, I was here. And I was drinking, and Alexander could go fuck himself. I refused to hide who I was or who I loved from anyone ever again.

  The crowd seemed to be surging toward the stage, so Jess and I made our way there. Her eyes were bright, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen her smile so big. My cheeks hurt and I realized I hadn’t stopped grinning since we got on the deck. Maybe it was the margarita. I was content to let her lead me around. I had a huge decision regarding my future to make after this week. She could make the decisions now.

  Jess pointed to the front of the ship. “We totally need to reenact that Titanic scene. You can stand behind me and we’ll pretend to fly.”

  “Why can’t I be Kate Winslet?”

  Jess pursed her lips. “Fine, I’ll be Jack.”

  “Draw me like one of your French girls,” I murmured with a bad accent.

  She smacked me and laughed.

  There was a shout from the stage and then something went zinging past my head. I ducked and covered myself with my arms. “What the hell was that? Are we under attack?”

  Jess doubled over at the waist, laughing, then pointed to a girl beside us who was waving something in her hand. “Yeah, we’re under attack by beaded necklaces, you goober. Stand up, you’re making a scene.”

  I stared at another girl in front of me, standing on a guy’s shoulders, waving her arms.
I saw her hands drift to the hem of her tank top. “I’m making a scene?”

  Jess wasn’t paying attention to me anymore. Her gaze was narrowed in on the stage. And when I looked too, I knew who she was looking at—Casey.

  But I wasn’t looking at him, I was looking at J. R. Butler. He stood off to the side, wearing a pair of board shorts, unlaced black high-top Converse sneakers, and a white T-shirt. His biceps flexed as he hurled necklaces into the crowd. Next to him were Paisley and Levi, his friends on the show. He leaned over and whispered something in Paisley’s ear. She laughed once, and he grinned back.

  He was so fucking hot, he took my breath away. I couldn’t move or cheer or hold out my arms to catch necklaces as they went whizzing by. I’d watched J. R. for a whole season, and while I wouldn’t call it an obsession, I was a huge fan.

  He was here now. In the flesh.

  It was creepy to me that I knew about him. About his life. About his girlfriend, Andrea, and his sick younger brother. And he didn’t know a single thing about me. He didn’t even know I existed. The thought was sobering and comforting all at the same time.

  I didn’t move from my spot on the deck as the cast members finished throwing necklaces, as they waved good-bye to the crowd, and as a woman over the loudspeaker told us there were barrels of free Bahama Mamas.

  I swallowed as I caught sight of J. R.’s back as he headed below deck.

  Minutes later, Jess pressed a drink into my hand. We knocked our plastic cups together. “To finally acting like college students,” she toasted.

  “To the trip of our lives,” I said.

  And then we drank.

  Chapter Three

  Quinn

  Much to Jess’s disappointment, I wasn’t drunk yet. Because I’d promised my parents I’d call them once the boat departed.

  I stood at a quiet area on the lower deck—which was hard to find—and dialed my parents as Jess stood nearby, still sipping a Bahama Mama, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol. I wanted that to be me. Being sober on spring break was dumb.