Page 9 of This or That
Tossing my phone on the bed, I fix myself two more cups of coffee that I guzzle as soon as they’re done, convinced that the hot beverage will keep me awake for what’s to come. They numb my taste buds, so that’s one step in the right direction. Next, I need a shower to rinse away the filth that my father hurled my way over the last half hour. Hence, I do so, my mind clouded with dark thoughts.
I have to brace myself for what’s to come. One way or another, right?
I press too hard while shaving and cut myself. Again, too numb to bother, I carry on with my routine, preoccupied with how the evening unfolded thus far.
Being the trooper that I am, I managed to play nice during dinner and entertain my four friends who constitute the bachelor party, including the soon-to-be-wed Matteo. Poker Face Mike is a master at concealing his boredom on this floating prison.
I inwardly berate Simon, Alex, and James for choosing this venue. My Italian best friend will be marrying Luana in Rio in less than two weeks. Why they decided to have their closest friends embark on two different singles cruises is beyond me. The days are dragging; it’s like being stuck inGroundhog Day. Eat. Drink. Sunbathe. Party. Fuck. Sleep. Repeat. At least, the girls are either as bored as I am or desperate enough to be agreeable. It gives a temporary reprieve from the monotony, yet I’m eager to break the curse I’ve carried since I was born, an inability to find true love that lasts.
I need to try harder to get out of my slump, fast. Granted, I can’t seem to find anyone that holds my interest, but I will find my person.
“Right?” It’s a rhetorical question, but delivered out loud, as if to convince myself that tonight’s going to be different.
Absentmindedly, I grab my iPhone from the bed and scroll through my contacts with my thumb, then press my best friend’s number.
“Yo!” His greeting is garbled, which tells me that I must’ve woken him up.
If I’d known, I would have ditched the electro gig altogether, but they insisted that the guy’s a rising star. So, instead, I hear myself say, “I’ll be on the upper deck in five.”
When I eventually get there, I stop in my tracks, flabbergasted by the odd sea of people. Squinting to spot my buddies, I brace myself and join them. “So, the gig’s outside,” I state the obvious like the moron I am, although I now remember Matteo saying that it was in the open for once. They nod in unison. The music’s blasting; they might not have heard a word I said. Oh well…
Each has a cup in hand; I should’ve hit the bar first. What was I thinking coming here anyway? Why didn’t I ask more questions when Matteo mentioned the upper deck? I take in the scene and do my best to suppress my sour mood. They’re all crammed together, lolling their heads in the direction of the stage, shuffling their feet to the repetitive rhythm. Not dancing!
“How long have you guys been here?” I greet my buddies with a friendly pat on the shoulder. Glee is evident on their stupid faces, so I plaster a fake smile on mine.
“A while,” is all I get from the ever-chatty Simon as we all approach the robotic crowd.
They briefly comment on the movie they continued after I left Matteo’s cabin to take my dreaded phone call.
“I like Monster’s sound,” Matteo declares, raising his voice to be heard over what I’d refer to noise, which I keep to myself. Monster? Whatever… I already regret agreeing to this as I watch them mimic the others, as if in a trance. So I pretend to be as high as the rest of them to conceal my grumpiness. In truth, the music isn’t awful, just not my thing; I’m more of a classic rock or Motown kind of guy.
The DJ says something that I can’t decipher. The guests complain about it, but I couldn’t care less.
“I’m gonna grab a drink. Anyone want one?” I gesture towards their cups that must be empty by now. They shake their heads, fascinated by the atmosphere of the show. I shrug.
A few minutes later, I wait in line in front of the expansive bar. What’s so special about this Monster guy anyway? “This is ridiculous,” I rant between gritted teeth.
On my way back to my friends, a guy bumps my arm, nearly knocking the cup out of my hand. “Hey, watch where you’re going, asshole!”
“Hunter!” Swiveling his head in the direction of the girl’s voice instead of paying attention to me, said asshole blocks the way and watches her weave through the crowd. “Your hat!”
Riled-up by his carelessness, I’m about to give him a piece of my mind. Not that he’ll care, since he has the audacity to pull her to him, snake his arm around her waist, and bend her into a deep Hollywood-style kiss with a whole lot of tongue. Who does he think he is?
When they come up for air, I sneer as she lovingly places his hat over his wayward hair. My eyes bug. My face falls. My pulse races.
I can’t utter a word. The fucker smirks, holding my gaze. The realization slowly dawns on me.
How is this possible?
With this unlikely reunion, my disoriented cock hardens, remembering the effect he had on me. Our forbidden kiss. His cowboy hat. My wet dream.
Him!
Chapter 7
Basic Instinct
Troy
