Out of Frame

by Megan Erickson

  I jabbed her softly with my elbow. “You have fun on the deck. Don’t get too blinded by all the flesh.”

  She smiled at me and crunched a bite of bacon.

  I clapped Levi on the shoulder. “Wanna go to the gym?” He gave me a suffering look. I lifted my hands up in surrender. “Hey, you’re the one who wants cardio.”

  He sighed and stared despondently at his plate, which was empty except for a rather large puddle of maple syrup. “Shit, I really should work out. I can’t look bad in front of the cameras on a damn cruise.”

  “Nah, can’t have that.”

  He stood up, scowling. “Fine, let’s go. But don’t get all beefy and flex-y around me. Makes me look bad.”

  I poked him in the chest. “Hey, you’re looking a little more beefed up than you used to.”

  He swatted my hand away and tried to sound stern, but I heard the laughter in his voice. “Don’t patronize me.”

  “Let’s go get you on the treadmill, buddy.”

  “Don’t call me ‘buddy’.”

  As Levi walked back to the room, I found a quiet corner on the first floor of the deck to call my family. A camera hovered nearby, which I fucking hated. They loved capturing the sob story of J. R. Butler’s sick younger brother.

  But I gritted my teeth and called home.

  Darren answered the phone. “Bro!”

  His voice wasn’t tight with pain, which eased the cramping in my gut. “Hey D, how are you?”

  “Pretty good, actually.”

  As much as I hated it, Darren’s battle with sickle cell anemia—a blood disorder that left him in pain and on constant medication—was public knowledge. He’d once been an up-and-coming basketball player and then was forced on the sidelines after his diagnosis. I clenched my fists and ignored the camera zooming in on my face. “That’s great.” His last crisis, when his body was wracked with pain, was about two months ago. My parents were both teachers, and while they could pay the bills with some money left over, they couldn’t raise the funds needed for a stem cell transplant. Which is what Darren needed.

  That was where I came in.

  The money I earned through Trip League and any money I ever earned would always go to Darren. I’d live in a fucking shack if it meant my little brother could live past forty.

  “How’s the cruise? You win any money at the casino yet?”

  I smiled. “Nah, didn’t make it to the tables yet.”

  “Play a hundred for me.”

  “Will do, D.”

  “Mom and Dad aren’t home. They’ll be pissed they missed you.”

  “Shit.” I leaned my head back against the wall behind me. “Tell them I’m sorry, and I’ll try to call back again.”

  “It’s cool. Can’t wait until you can come home.”

  “Couple more months. Then we’ll tear it up at home.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, you can be my wingman. You’re a chick magnet now, all famous and shit.”

  My family knew my truth and completely accepted it. “We’ll get you hooked up.”

  “Damn right.”

  “Gotta go, but you hang in there, okay?”

  “Always.”

  “Love you, D.”

  “Take care, Jay.”

  I closed my eyes and hung up the phone, then pushed past the cameras, fighting through the tears that threatened to come out.

  I had to remember what I was doing this for. It wasn’t just the contract; it was my career, it was my life, and I had people depending on me.

  ***

  The kid was fucking everywhere.

  Oh no, not the kid. Quinn. He had a name, and that name was Quinn. Fuck, why did I have to ask his name?

  There were about fifteen hundred passengers on the boat, and of all the people to wander up on the deck at dawn, it was him. Of fucking course. And now who was in the gym at the same time I was? Oh right, Quinn. With his pretty blonde friend.

  I was starting to wonder if they were following me around. Then I realized that was paranoid as hell.

  The cameras were there, too, watching Levi sweat it out on the treadmill. I stood in front of the mirror, busting out some bicep curls. Sweat dripped down my face and my arms trembled, but I kept going, fueled by frustration and the sight of Quinn on the leg press.

  Fuck me.

  His shorts were riding up his thighs, revealing freckles on the pale skin there. He gripped the handles on either side of his hips, the veins in his forearms bulging.

  I switched to triceps, keeping my head down, focusing on my workout when the whole time I was aware of Quinn’s presence behind me. I still had the Sea-Bands on—because they fucking worked—but I’d covered them with my own Nike sweatbands.

  A girl laughed behind me, and I lifted my head, about to lay down on the bench to work on some chest presses. Instead, I spotted Quinn’s friend talking to Levi. They were walking over to Quinn, who was standing up, a cautious expression on his face because there were cameras in the gym and live-feed cameras in the corner.

  Levi placed his hand on Quinn’s shoulder and squeezed it, and I recognized his expression immediately.

  He was flirting.

  Levi, with his effortlessly styled dark brown hair and shining green eyes, was flirting with Quinn.

  That was good, right? Levi could distract him, since I was tempted to throw everything away for one taste of his lips.

  After the conversation with my brother, the guilt weighed heavily on my shoulders, so I gritted my teeth and thought about picking up a heavier weight. Something to punish myself.

  Quinn kept stealing glances at me, and every time Levi laughed, every time he spoke with his voice dripping with charm, I wanted to take the dumbbell I was holding and throw it through the mirror in front of me.

  I hadn’t even known bisexuality was a thing. All I knew in middle school was that certain boys made me feel the same way as certain girls. That all-over warmth, the butterflies in my stomach. I had almost convinced myself it was weird teenage hormones, so I kept it under wraps until high school. When I heard what the “B” in LGBTQ stood for, my first feeling was the settling of pieces into order. This ah-ha moment of, Oh, so that’s what I was. I was scared as shit, and stuffed it down, preferring to date girls. After I moved to LA and actually touched a guy at a club in West Hollywood and he touched me back, that was when I knew with absolute certainty. I knew, deep in my gut, that it wasn’t just hormones.

  But then I’d signed on the dotted line shortly after, sealing my fate. And I’d worked hard to avoid guys who got my blood pumping, who turned me on. I’d done a great job of it, too, until now.

  Levi looked over at me, wearing a big grin, his face flushed. I knew it wasn’t just from the treadmill. He beckoned to me. Fuck.

  I resisted dropping the weights from where I stood. There wasn’t a gym manager, but that was a pretty universal rule. Don’t drop the weights.

  With shaking arms—which wasn’t all muscle fatigue—I set them back on the rack and wiped my wrist across my forehead. As I walked toward them, Quinn stared at me with wide eyes while his female friend stiffened.

  Levi clapped me on the shoulder. “So this is Quinn, and this is his friend, Jess.”

  I noted the use of friend and not girlfriend. “We met last night,” I said, looking at Jess, knowing I needed to make up for what I’d said last night. “Uh, sorry about that, by the way. The whole drink thing with Casey.”

  Jess’s eyes were narrowed on me. “You don’t need to apologize to me, Casey does. But I think you need to apologize to Quinn.” She tilted her chin up in a dare.

  I liked her, and it also showed a little bit about Quinn’s character that he had such a loyal friend.

  Quinn bit his lip, his gaze shifting between me and Jess. He clearly hadn’t told Jess that we’d talked that morning, which
made me a little pleased. That morning had been our little private oasis in this ship of crazy.

  Quinn placed his hand on his friend’s forearm. “It’s really okay, Jess. I thought more about it, and he was just trying to look out for me.”

  “It sounded threatening,” Jess said, frowning.

  “I didn’t mean it that way,” I said. Levi’s gaze was darting among the three of us and I saw recognition dawn on his face as he connected the dots based on what I told him last night. His mouth formed an O, but he stayed silent. I scratched the back of my head. “I’m sorry I said it the way I did.”

  Quinn smiled, obviously trying to play peacemaker. “It’s really okay. And I’m glad to meet you under, uh, better circumstances.”

  Something passed between us as we locked gazes. The knowledge of our secret meeting? A promise it would stay that way? I held his gaze. “Same.”

  Jess still looked suspicious of me. I tried to offer her a smile, but she didn’t seem to be having it. Tough chick.

  “So.” Levi clapped his hands together. “How about a little casino after lunch?”

  “Uh—” I started.

  “Quinn has great luck,” Jess said proudly.

  I raised my eyebrows at him. “Oh yeah?”

  “I don’t know about that,” he murmured, his gaze shifting down and to the side at the attention.

  I grew up in New Jersey. Atlantic City was my second home, so yeah, I knew a little bit about luck. I knew I rarely had it. I should have said I had other plans, that I wanted to swim or lay out on the deck. But instead I found myself grinning and saying, “Awesome, then it’s on.”

  Quinn’s cheeks flushed.

  Jess looked triumphant.

  And Levi’s eyes glittered with mischief.

  I really should have just stayed in my cabin all day.

  Chapter Five

  Quinn

  We started out playing easy games. A couple rounds of slots, and then some roulette, during which Levi enjoyed himself immensely.

  On screen, he came across like a sassy twink who rolled his eyes a lot, and he did some of those things now. But he did a lot of other things, too. He was graceful, a little like Riley, and I wondered if he had a background in dancing. He turned the sass up and down depending on the situation. To watch him on Trip League, he seemed a little exhausting, but in real life, he was really fun to be around.

  And J. R. was . . . irresistible. Which was crazy awkward. We weren’t even friends, and he was straight, but he was sitting beside me and his big hands were right there, resting on his thighs. I thought about how those long fingers had touched my palms, how those hands had rotated my wrists.

  I imagined his full lips pressed against mine, and it was driving me crazy. Never in my life had I been attracted to a straight man like I was attracted to J. R. Our chance meeting on the boat that morning was a blessing and a curse. Because I’d found he wasn’t as much of an asshole as he’d been in the bar. And that was bad, so bad for this weird obsession I had with him.

  When Levi had asked if Jess was my girlfriend, she’d piped up quickly to tell him no, that I was gay and single. I loved Jess, but sometimes she had that annoying habit of just assuming I’d be attracted to another guy because he was gay. I’d told her over and over that wasn’t how it worked. I think she did know, in her heart, but her desire to see me happy made her want to shove me into the arms of any available gay man.

  When she’d pulled that crap in front of Levi, the flirting had started. I didn’t think Levi intended for it to go anywhere—that was just his personality. Maybe in another situation, I would have been flattered. I would have flirted back. I would have encouraged it. I would have tried to kiss him and wriggle those skinny jeans down his hips.

  But with J. R. around, my whole brain was scrambled. What if Levi told J. R. I was gay? What if he already had? Was that why J. R. was so quiet around me now? Was he regretting this morning, letting me touch him? Was he plotting to throw me overboard?

  The questions swirled around in my head until I was nearly dizzy. I didn’t give a shit that it was three o’clock; I ordered a drink as soon as I could and gulped it down while we watched a game of twenty-one. This week was turning me into a lush.

  Shouting and whistles echoed from the other side of the floor, where the craps tables were. My fingers itched to hold the dice, to hear the cheers when I won the table their bets. Craps was a game of strategy, timing, and a little bit of luck. I’d gone to Louisiana with Jess one time and played in the riverboat casinos. I still wasn’t on top of the more complicated bets, but I loved the game. Playing online was even better because, uh, no eye contact necessary.

  J. R. shifted beside me and gestured toward the tables in the corner. “Wanna watch?”

  Levi was huddled with Jess, counting their remaining chips. I licked my lips, nearly salivating to head to the craps tables. “No, I don’t want to watch.” An unreadable expression flitted across J. R.’s face and he opened his mouth, but I cut him off. “I don’t want to watch because I want to play.”

  There was a pause, and then his eyes widened in surprise. “Oh. Oh.” He huffed a small laugh to himself. “I forgot, Jess said you were lucky. All right, well then I wanna see what you can do.”

  I tamped down the urge to tell him I’d love to show him a whole lot. And that I’d love for him to show me what he could do. Privately. Damn, even my thoughts were corny.

  I hopped off of my stool. “Hey, Jess. I’m going to go over and play some craps.”

  She looked up. “Oh, okay. I think we’re going to stay here for a little. We’re kind of on a roulette roll.” Levi nodded his head enthusiastically.

  So I’d be alone with J. R.? It didn’t matter we were in a crowded casino. I’d be . . . with him. And with the camera that was hovering a couple feet away. Shit. “Um, okay.”

  J. R. walked behind me silently, the heat of his body soaking into the back of my thin T-shirt. I looked over my shoulder when we reached the tables. “You going to play?”

  He looked at the table, then at me. “Nah, I’ll just watch you.”

  I’ll just watch you.

  Not the game. Me.

  I needed to quit reading into everything. He was just being nice. I’d given him the Sea-Bands, which he still wore, and I’d managed to suppress my fanboying. So that was it. I needed to play my game and forget about the big hunk of man next to me.

  The big hunk of man I wanted to pounce on.

  I placed my chips on the groove in the table and nodded to the dealer. He nodded back. There were a couple kids around the table, and they seemed to size me up, wondering if I was going to win them money or make them lose.

  I hoped it was the former.

  I placed a five-dollar chip—the table’s minimum bet—on the pass line and wiped my sweaty palms on my shorts. I refused to look back at J. R., but I was ever aware of his presence.

  A pretty brunette at the table smiled at him. “Not playing?”

  He shook his head. “Not right now.”

  “Come on, Butler,” said a guy wearing a Dolphins jersey.

  I had forgotten for a minute who J. R. was. Of course kids on the boat would notice him. Not all, I was sure, but a good amount.

  Again J. R. shook his head, then clapped me on the shoulder. “I’m gonna invest in my man here.” He placed one hundred dollars worth of chips next to mine, then leaned in to talk softly in my ear. “Win me some big money, baby.”

  I swallowed around the thickness in my throat and willed myself not to get hard at the lick of his hot breath on my face. “Dealer,” I croaked. “Change please.”

  ***

  J. R.

  I asked myself what I was doing, then gave up. I didn’t have willpower around Quinn. My eagerness to see him play craps won out over my self-preservation instinct.

  I knew th
e cameras were on the table, which put extra pressure on Quinn. I felt bad about that, but there was nothing I could do. Sweat beaded at the hair on his temple, but he still smelled damn good from his post-gym shower.

  He wore a T-shirt today, a dark blue one that made his eyes look even more like the ocean surrounding us. When Levi and I were in the privacy of our cabin after the gym, he’d told me Jess had said Quinn was gay. It only confirmed what I had guessed.

  Levi asked if that bothered me. It sure did, but not for the reasons he thought.

  I wondered how different I’d be around Quinn if this cruise was a year from now, when I’d be free to act on an attraction to both men and women. When I was free to be who I was.

  It wasn’t worth thinking about, though, because this was the present and I wasn’t free to do much of anything.

  I watched as the guy in the Dolphins jersey rolled a six. The dealer flipped the black button in the center of table so it read On and placed it on the six at the top of the table.

  Quinn’s eyes narrowed, then he nodded like he’d decided something. He placed two chips behind his current one on the pass line.

  Craps wasn’t a game I was familiar with, so I leaned in. “What does that bet mean?”

  His brow was furrowed, and it was a little hot how focused he was. He didn’t turn his head when he spoke. “I added to my bet. It means I think he’ll roll another six before he rolls a seven or an eleven.”

  “What happens if he rolls a seven or eleven first?”

  He turned his head a little then. “It means the house wins. We lose.”

  I leaned back. “We don’t want that.”

  He smiled. “Nah, but the house always wins.”

  “Damn the Man,” I said.

  He laughed.

  Dolphins Jersey, who I found out was named Carter, did in fact roll a six again before a seven or eleven. The table cheered as Carter fist-pumped the air. Bets were paid out, and then the dice were passed to the brown-haired girl who’d wanted me to play. She did some weird ritual where she blew on the dice and whispered something to herself, then she rolled.

  The dealer placed the button on the four, and Quinn frowned. He set a ten-dollar chip on the Do Not Pass line.