Sins of Omission

by T S McKinney

  I’d push through. Worrying never killed anybody. I was pretty sure being a virgin at the age of twenty probably had taken a few lives, though. That’s where my focus needed to be—getting laid. How fucking hard could it be? Gay men did it all the time. What was my issue with crawling into bed with someone?

  Looking around, it was hard to tell if the men were coupled off together or if they were just already pairing off for a friendly fuck. I’d heard that was common. The thoughts of fucking somebody and then walking away like it was nothing left a bad taste in my mouth, but I’d get through it. Everybody else did. I so fucking wanted to be like everybody else—not the kid that people either tried to baby or turn into their cute mascot.

  As I watched the men and their interactions, I emptied my third glass. Emptied my fourth. Sometime during my fifth cocktail, a man ventured over toward me. A very wicked, incredibly naughty, and, in my drunken state, super sexy smile curled his thin lips as he looked me up and down. He was built nicely, stacked with muscles that were built in the gym, not through any type of physical labor. His skin was sun-kissed like Eli’s, but I was fairly certain it came from a spray tan instead of natural like Eli’s. There were tattoos…lots of them. They looked okay, I guessed. Not as good as Eli’s.

  “Hey there, cutie,” he said as he plopped down onto the empty chair next to me. “You here all alone?”

  His leg, hairless but with stubble which told me he shaved instead of waxed, brushed up against mine. Yuck. Why not spend the extra money for a wax? Better yet, why not have hair on his legs…like Eli did. My body didn’t have much hair, so I waxed to hide that fact. Once I’d started, I decided it was a better look for me. I remember thinking I would be a sexy contrast to Eli.

  “Uh…yep, I’m all alone,” I finally stammered, sounding like a total idiot even to myself. Muscle man didn’t seem to mind, though. His smile grew even wider. He’s really not bad looking, I kept chanting inside my head. Inside my head, I could see me giving myself a negative head shake, not at all agreeing with my assessment of the first man to show me any interest on the cruise. Well, except for Javier, but he was getting paid to give me his attention. “How about you?” Fuck, that sounded even dumber.

  “Sure am,” he answered. “Hey, they just announced that we’re allowed to go check out our rooms. How about we visit mine or yours before they make us do that stupid emergency drill?” He checked his watch and then added, “We’d have plenty of time to get to know each other better.”

  Oh, shit. This was it. Was this it? I frowned. I was pretty sure I didn’t want him to be it. On the other hand, I needed to stop being such a pussy and just get it over with. Step off the ledge, so to speak. If I waited for the person I really wanted—the only one I’d ever wanted—then I’d die of old age before I got laid. Eli wasn’t for me. He never had been and never would be.

  “Okay,” I heard myself say. “Sounds fun.” I sat my empty glass on the small table next to my chair and swung my legs over to the side, bumping up against Mr. Stubble again. It was strange; one second I was doing the inward moan over his stubble-covered legs and the next second, the entire boat pitched over onto its side—a lot like I had imagined the Titanic did. Rolled completely onto its side. My stomach rolled to the other side.

  Strange. Nobody else seemed to notice that we were obviously sinking. They partied on all around me, laughing, drinking, and dancing. The music kept blaring some Jamaican song I’d never heard in my life but fit really well for a cruise.

  The boat pitched over and landed on the opposite side…as did my stomach. My hands gripped the edges of my lounge chair. Sweat suddenly covered my upper lip. The liquid contents in my stomach rolled round and round like the tumble cycle on the washing machine. Had I eaten anything that morning? I couldn’t remember eating but something was sure the hell rolling around inside me.

  “You okay, kid?” the man asked. “You don’t look so good.”

  Even in my state of dizziness, I could see him inching away from me, slowing, like I was a lion about to pounce and eat him for a snack. How could everybody else be standing up straight when the boat was tilted one way and then another. Oh, fuck. My stomach pitched, and I knew what was about to happen. There were several things I could have done to try and save myself the humiliation barreling in my direction. The deck railing was probably only a couple yards away from me. Running in that direction would have been one solution, but my ass stayed glued to the lounge chair. The only one moving was Mr. Stubble. He’d managed to completely disappear. I stared at my cocktail glasses, seeing that each one still had a little bit left over before I’d started a new drink. In my mind, I started combining those glasses, so I could have a nice empty one to heave the rolling contents of my stomach into. In reality, I sat there…doing nothing. In the next instant, every ounce of liquor I’d consumed since I’d stepped onto the boat spewed from my mouth, splattering the wooden decking with wave after wave of grossness.

  The dizziness amped up several levels and to my ears, it sounded like everyone around me was suddenly far, far away. The loud music from seconds earlier sounded muffled. From somewhere, deep in the hell of my humiliation, I heard Javier telling me he was going after some Ginger Ale. A towel was shoved roughly into my hand before he disappeared. My hand trembled with weakness and my pride cowered with mortification as I wiped my mouth. I knew people were staring. They had to be laughing. It was my own fault, but it still hurt. Once again, I was on the outside, looking in—surrounded by people, but still alone. I hung my head and stared at the mess I’d made. On the bright side, if there was one, I hadn’t eaten anything, so it was just a wet mess of stinky alcohol.

  I would have run to the railing and jumped overboard if I’d thought my legs could carry me, but there was no such luck. They felt like limp noodles. Just as I accepted there was no escape, I felt a cool rag being gently placed on the back of my neck and then another one placed against my forehead. A hard-muscled chest suddenly served as a backrest.

  “Easy, babe,” a familiar voice whispered in my ear as strong arms encircled me and pulled my head back until it rested against him. The cool, wet rag gently wiped at my face. “It’ll pass in a few minutes—just too much to drink on an empty stomach—maybe a touch of motion sickness.”

  Both horror and relief washed over me.

  He’d found me.

  He’d saved me.

  Knowing I was at least safe from any type of physical harm, I leaned back against him and allowed him to keep bathing my face with his cool rag. Yes, I was safe from physical harm. Emotional harm was an entirely different question. No, there was no question about it. With Eli on the boat, my heart was in serious danger.

  “Here,” he whispered as he placed a straw against my lips, “take some slow sips of this. It’s your Ginger Ale from Javier. It’ll help calm your stomach.”

  Cautiously, I sipped the liquid. I’d never been a fan of the drink before, but it was, this one time, deliciously refreshing. After a few sips, I waited to see if my stomach would rebel, but nothing happened. Thank goodness.

  “Will that be all, sir?” Javier asked Eli, no longer even acknowledging my presence.

  Bastard.

  “Yes, he’s fine now. Thank you, Javier. I’ve got things covered from here.”

  When Javier disappeared and all eyes on deck finally determined that the freak show was over, so they could return to their party, I relaxed enough to ask, “How did you find me?”

  He laughed softly, his breath tickling my ear. “I never lost you, babe. I know how your mind works and I know that you never, ever give up so easily. The minute you agreed, I knew I couldn’t let you out of my sight.”

  I sighed, frustrated that I hadn’t counted on him seeing straight through my lie. Because of my own stupidity, here he was on the boat with me and he’d just witnessed one of the most humiliating, disgusting moments of my life. Perfect. I could practically hear the voice inside his head singing hallelujah to the fact that he’d walked o
ut on me three years ago.

  “You’re so fucking annoying,” I muttered. My inside of my mouth felt like shag carpet from the back of a 60’s hippie van…and tasted even worse. “Go away. Jump overboard. Disappear. Just leave me alone.”

  “No can do, Pukeahontus,” he answered, humor dancing in his voice over my new nickname. “You’re stuck with me. Seven fun-filled days of your ex-boyfriend and current bodyguard, Eli Wallace.” He tugged me closer against his chest and asked, “Whatever will we do to pass the time?”

  There was no lying about two things—I loved how my body felt relaxed against him, caught in a tight embrace…and that he’d damaged my heart with the nonchalant ex-boyfriend remark. My body, touching Eli, felt like it was home. My heart, near Eli, started cracking. I pictured it inside my chest—a lot like the window in your car. It starts with one tiny crack and then slowly splits until it finally completely shatters.

  “We could ignore each other,” I suggested. “You’re an expert at that, so it shouldn’t take any kind of learning curve or DIY to get you on board. I mean, you’ve completely ignored me for three years; what’s another seven fucking days, Eli? Go the fuck away.”

  I heard him huff out a frustrated breath. Awwww, too fucking bad for him if the truth made him uncomfortable. I’d been uncomfortable since the day he walked out of my apartment, dropped out of school, and completely disappeared from my life. At the moment, I didn’t give two fucks about his comfort.

  “Come on, sassy mouth,” he finally whispered. “Let’s get you to your room so you can brush your teeth. It’s kinda necessary right now, especially if we’re going to go toe to toe with insults and arguments over the past.”

  With more grace than a large man should ever have, he stood up, lifting me with him, and held us in a standing position while I tried to make my legs work again. The deck of the ship swayed for a few seconds before settling down again. Having him hold me shouldn’t feel so perfect and knowing that, I forced myself to step away from him.

  “Please, Eli,” I whispered. “Just leave me in peace. I don’t need a bodyguard, babysitter, or whatever the fuck you’re calling yourself these days. I’ve done fine on my own for the biggest part of my life. I can handle it now.”

  With one hand, he gripped my upper arm and with the other, he reached down to retrieve the small backpack I’d carried on board. “See, that’s your problem, Arizona,” he murmured as he physically forced me away from the lounge chairs and toward the staircase that would lead to the elevators. “You’ve never allowed yourself to need anybody. We’re going to the room. Now.”

  I dug my heels into the wooden deck, but it was a pathetic waste of time and energy—and I was short on both. I tried, unsuccessfully, to snatch my arm out of his grasp. When that didn’t work either, I considered screaming for help.

  “Don’t even think about it, Ari,” he warned, reading my mind like he’d always been able to do. “If you do something to make a scene, I’ll turn the tables on you so fast your head will spin worse than it was minutes ago.”

  I didn’t have a clue what he meant by “turn the tables,” but I suspected the threat wasn’t empty. Unwilling to draw anymore unwanted attention to myself, I allowed him to propel me down the stairs and toward the elevator doors. Even though I’d put forth an Olympic worthy effort, the alcohol wasn’t completely purged from my system, so the tight grip he kept on my arm actually served another purpose other than pissing me off. It kept me from kissing the floor. The motherfucking rocking of the ship wasn’t helping one damn bit either.

  Once we were on the elevator and the doors slid together, I asked, “How long have you been on the boat?”

  “I boarded seven people behind you,” he answered with a grin. “Trust me, babe. You’ve never been out of my sight.”

  It pissed me off that I hadn’t noticed him, especially since I’d thought I was being overly careful and superbly sneaky. It pissed me off even more that he apparently hadn’t been troubled with the fact that I’d drunk enough to make myself so inebriated that I’d even consider taking Mr. Stubble back to my room for a romp and tumble. So much for holding out any hopes of ever making him jealous by flirting with another man.

  “So, you just stood back and let me nearly drink myself to death? Thanks for all your protectiveness, Mr. Bodyguard of the fucking year.”

  He leaned back against the glass wall of the elevator and said, “I thought about stepping in and putting a stop to it, but then changed my mind.”

  Ouch. “Why? What changed your mind?” No lying, my tongue really felt like shag carpet.

  He shrugged. “What you just did, Ari, is something practically every man, woman, and teenager has done at one point in their life. While I watched you, I started to think it was your first time at getting shit-faced to the point of puking.”

  I glared at him, or at least gave it my best attempt at glaring when the throbbing in my head pounded louder than the island music that had been blasting on deck earlier. “So, you thought it would be funny to watch me get sick in front of everybody?”

  “No, Ari. I thought you deserved to live a little. You’ve been so reserved your entire damn life, so much like a newborn foal trying to get comfortable with its beautiful, powerful legs, but never quite getting there for some reason. In college, I sat back and watched you experience life by only looking through a window pane, not participating, just watching. At the time, I didn’t know why. Once I learned your age, all the things I’d questioned became easier to understand.” He brushed some damp hair out of my face and tucked it behind my ear. “I’d hoped that over the past three years, you would have many opportunities to step out of your comfort zone and do all the silly, stupid things the rest of us do. Watching you drink like a boss when I suspect your association with liquor is limited, at best, made me wonder if I was mistaken—that you’re still the same sweet, innocent, reserved boy who stole my heart years ago.”

  The elevator doors slid open on the ninth floor and he ushered us out. “I’m not a boy,” I growled in frustration. I didn’t like being called a boy, sweet, reserved, or innocent by Eli…especially by Eli. I wanted him to view me as his equal—the man he threw away when he should have held on tightly. Yet, it looked like I was, as always, viewed like a child.

  The story of my entire fucking life.

  As we walked down the hallway, Eli answered with a whispered challenge of, “Prove it.”

  I wanted, more than I even wanted to brush my teeth, to slam his body against the wall, pin him there with brute strength I knew I didn’t possess, and plunder his mouth with a kiss powerful enough to give him a taste of what he’d been missing and would never get again. I wanted to set his blood on fire, cause it to bubble and boil with need, just the way he did mine with no more effort on his part than a glance in my direction. Everything in me wanted to do something to prove my worth and to make him finally open his fucking eyes and see me. Sure, I wanted all that and even had some seriously hot ideas on how to succeed in the mission, but when the hallway floor moved in a way that reminded me of a crowd performing the wave at a football game, the only thing I could do was slam my hand over my mouth, shove him aside and start running toward my cabin.

  Well, fuck. I was either still pickled or sea sick. Neither was a good thing.

  Chapter Four

  Eli

  Well, I supposed I could probably say that day one of the cruise could have gone worse, but in order to achieve a lower level of worse, I would have had to dig pretty deep into the shit pile. Things had gone rather smoothly in my efforts to counter Ari’s determination to ditch me. I’d seen that one coming a mile away and had effectively shut it down. I’d managed to catch a different flight that put me at the port in Galveston a couple of hours before Ari, so following him after he exited the plane had been simple. I’d already hacked into his computer and learned which cruise he’d sneaked onto and booked after hearing I’d be traveling with him, and then I’d borrowed company skills to get me on t
he same boat…in the same room.

  Smooth as warm honey sliding down Ari’s perfectly rounded ass—until we’d gotten aboard. Knowing he was underage, I shouldn’t have allowed him to partake in the never-ending cocktail parade he seemed determined to participate in, but, on the other hand, he’d looked so proud of himself. Watching him, I was once again reminded of how his life, because of his superior intelligence, had always propelled him into situations where he was the youngest, most innocent, and socially awkward person in the group. Back when we dated, before I knew the truth, I’d watched him fumble around people, tripping over words and looking as uncomfortable as a politician in church. It had been so painful to watch him suffer, especially when I didn’t understand why. All I’d ever wanted to do was protect him, but my heart had told me that was the exact opposite of what Ari wanted, or needed, from me.

  I supposed that was why when he started drinking yesterday, I’d sat back and simply watched him partake in a way that we’d all done at one point in our lives. He’d looked so happy…so confident…so proud of himself. I’d known my appearance would end all that for him, so I’d given him some Ari time. His father, my new boss, certainly wouldn’t approve of my decision, but I felt confident it wouldn’t be the last time Landon Honeycutt disapproved of what would happen between his son and me—hopefully.

  Then the steroid-taking gym rat had shown up, hitting on Ari, someone half his age, and my jealous gene had literally gone berserk. Off the charts berserk. Steam had probably been shooting straight from my ears. When the man had touched him with his leg, I’d broken the beer bottle that I’d been holding, cutting myself in three different places. Yeah, nice start to our seven-day cruise.

  After that, things had slid down the shit slide at a rapid pace. Ari had embarrassed himself by throwing up on deck and then, come to find out, he’s apparently one of the unlucky souls that gets deathly seasick. Had he brought any seasick meds with him, just in case? Of course not. Mr. IQ sometimes forgot to make the simple decisions in life. I’d somehow managed to get him through the safety training required before the ship could leave port, but he’d pretty much been a lost cause after that. Hell, he hadn’t even managed much of an argument when he’d realized I was sharing a room with him.