Thalassic Love (BoyxBoy)

Chapter Thirteen

After another tiresome, all-day shift, there's nothing I need more than a martini. I find myself at the crew bar as soon as Ali and I are done with our closing duties. I normally wouldn't mind if he or Lance tag along, but right now, I want some alone time. So, I don't mention anything to my coworker or my roommate about my post-work whereabouts.

I've got most of the day off tomorrow, besides the dinner shift. All of our current guests will leave the ship and head home. A few hours later, a new set of travelers will board. There's no breakfast being served in the dining room. So, I'm in the clear if tonight goes haywire. I plan on having a few drinks, but not enough alcohol to send me into oblivion.

I plop a seat down at the counter, and the bartender immediately takes my drink order.

There are not too many crew members here tonight. In fact, it's quite empty compared to normal— some stragglers hanging out at opposite sides of the dance floor. I don't mind it, though. It's nice not having to fight to get a drink. The music, however, doesn't need to be blasting this loud with barely anyone here.

The bartender slides me my dirty martini, and I thank him before taking a sip.

I'm hoping if I have enough mixed drinks, I can get a certain son of the Captain off my mind. The scene that unfolded on the pool deck yesterday hasn't left my head since it happened. I never thought that there would be a situation where Harrison Wallace is defending me.

I have no explanation as to why the interaction won't leave my thoughts. Maybe it's because I'm so used to protecting myself in such scenarios. Maybe it's because Harrison never shows kindness or sympathy towards those who aren't at his level. Maybe it's because I enjoy the idea of another man shielding me.

Whatever the cause may be, I want to shut it out. I hate Harrison. That's how it will always be. We are not compatible in any sort of way whether that be a friendship or a relationship. He will continue to feed off his sugar daddies, and I will continue to work towards a successful future for myself.

With my brain clouded, I didn't even notice that the bartender has slipped me another martini. The way that I inhale the second drink tells me that this won't be a night I'll remember. Here's to forgetting!

***

Despite my vision fading in and out and my legs feeling like they're about to give out any minute now, I've managed to make it to the crowded dance floor. I've lost track of how much time I've spent at the crew bar, but enough time has passed that it has suddenly become packed with my coworkers.

As I move my body along with the electronic music playing on the loud speakers, my eyes catch sight of Harrison. He's standing with his back against the wall about fifteen or so feet away from me. Part of me thinks my drunk mind is playing tricks on me. After all, I can barely see straight.

Regardless, whether it's him or not, I continue with my uncoordinated dancing. Alcohol never fails to make me feel like I'm the hottest person in the room. In reality, I'm sure I'm making a clown of myself right now. Though, I don't care one bit.

This night was meant to rid any thoughts of Harrison, but that's clearly pointless if he's in the same vicinity. It's not easy escaping someone on a cruise ship. There's only so many places you can hide.

The sudden urge to chug down another dirty martini distracts me for a few seconds. I stumble back to the bar in search of an unoccupied bartender. A guy in his late twenties walks over to my side of the bar top. There's a look in his eyes that tells me he won't be serving me any more drinks but that won't stop me from trying.

"I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to cut you off for the night," the bartender says. He didn't even ask me what I wanted.

"What if I promise to behave?" I attempt to flirt my way to another drink.

"You can try all you want, but there is no way we're going to serve you more alcohol," he dismisses my question. "However, I would be glad to give you a glass of water or even soda."

Before I can make a snarky comment, I sense someone hovering over me.

"Vixen," the voice behind me says. Chills run down my back at how sensual my name sounds coming from his lips. When I turn around to meet my caller, I'm face to face with none other than-

"Harrison!" I cheer.

Something about the way the club lights shine on his face make him more attractive. It could also be the martinis persuading my perception. I have no problem admitting Harrison is a handsome man, but I haven't found him sexy until this very moment.

His scent is intoxicating, hints of vanilla and sandalwood circle my nose. He smells expensive, and it's drawing me in.

I bite my bottom lip as my eyes take in his features. His blonde hair sticks to his forehead, sweaty from the amount of bodies in the room. His blue eyes are filled with an emotion that is unreadable.

He's wearing a dark green polo shirt, unbuttoned at the collar. It's short-sleeved, so I get a good glimpse of his bare arms. A gold watch wraps around his right wrist. Below his waist, he sports cream-colored chinos and white tennis shoes. Harrison never fails to dress like a pompous asshole, but yet, he makes it look so good.

I draw my attention back up to his face, focusing my attention right on his plump, pink lips. Something inside of me wants to know what his mouth tastes like. One kiss wouldn't hurt, right?

What the hell is wrong with me? Since day one, I've never felt nothing but hatred for Harrison. Now I can't help but want to make out with him?

Yeah, I'm definitely never drinking again.