Page 22 of Love On Deck
He doesn’t feel disappointedbyConnor—he’s just lamenting that the possibility of a relationship is gone.
But is it?
Is Connor’s behavior, upsetting though it was, enough for Andrew to close the door? Despite everything, Connor’s still got an innocence and fragility that speaks to Andrew on an elemental level. The chemistry had still simmered between them even while Connor apologized, and they had genuinely gotten along while off the ship. They’d discovered a couple of shared interests during the course of their many conversations.
Hope hums in his belly. He thinks no, Connor’s conduct hadn’t been enough. They definitely need to have a conversation, but all things considered, Connor’s definitely worth a second chance.
Andrew’s lost count of his laps, but it doesn’t matter. He slows his pace for half a lap and then stops altogether. He needs water and a shower. Having left his phone in his cabin, he’s not sure what time it is. Even if it’s still early-ish, he’s not sure he should go in search of Connor. If Andrew’s smart, and he likes to think he is—he’s got a J.D., after all—he should sleep on the decision and let confirmation come with the dawn.
Chapter Ten
Andrew pushes the call button for the elevator and waits. He should absolutely sit tight until the morning. The system dings and the car doors open to reveal none other than Connor. Andrew’s not sure if he should take this as a sign or not. The logical thing to do is sleep on his decision.
“Hi,” he says. “Can I talk to you?”
To hell with logic.
The lightness he’d felt once he made the decision was enough. He’s learned to trust the decisions he makes. Besides, the giddiness he’s feeling right now, on top of the currents sizzling between them, seems like ample proof.
Connor looks surprised. “Now?” But he snorts. “Of course now. Um, sure. Here?”
Drew nods. “There’s no one else up here, so this works.”
They move to a section of railing that looks out to sea. There’s only blackness in the distance although the stars sparkle brilliantly overhead. Land is on the other side of the ship.
Connor leans against the railing, crossing his arms. “What’s going on?”
Andrew rests his elbows on the smooth varnished rail top. “This might come out of left field for you, all things considered.”
Connor “hmm”s.
“But I’d already been thinking about it. So…
“What you said earlier, about not being able to have a relationship…”
Andrew glances up at Connor, whose expression is now intent. Andrew’s stomach flutters as if someone is shuffling a deck of cards in there. He’s a little nervous. Entering into any relationship is a big step, but what’s the worst that could happen? And Connor’s a bit of a wild card. He could say no and avoid the risk. That would be a shame, but Andrew would understand. He’s not so smitten that he’d be heartbroken, but he’d definitely be sad. He takes a breath.
“You’re an amazing guy. I find you interesting, as well as damned attractive, and I’d like us to try a relationship.”
Stunned. Perplexed. Disbelieving. Those emotions and a couple of others cycle across Connor’s face.
“We live in two different states,” he says.
It’s Andrew’s turn to snort. That’s Connor’s first argument? “Yeah, and you’re a professional athlete in the closet. It would take some doing, some negotiation, some planning. I think you’re worth the effort. But if I have this all wrong, and you don’t feel the same toward me…”
“It’s not that. Fuck… This is, yeah, left field,” Connor says. He scrapes his fingers through his hair and mirrors Andrew’s stance. Their shoulders brush. “I thought for sure that anything beyond friendship was out of the question after what I did.”
“I thought that too, but I realized I like you too much to hold it against you.”
Connor looks at him. “You do? We’ve known each other a sum total of four days and change.”
Okay, this isn’t going quite the way Andrew expected, and he’s tempted to laugh, but he doesn’t because Connor is legitimately nonplussed. Of course, Andrew’s not sure what he’d expected from Connor, a flat-out rejection maybe, but certainly not arguments against the whole thing. Maybe Connor’s got some reservations, and Andrew doesn’t blame him. He’s got a few of his own.
“I’m not proposing marriage, you know, but I don’t want this—” He bumps Connor’s shoulder with his own. “—whatever this is, to be over when the ship docks in Galveston either. There’s a thing between us. You feel it too. I know you do.”
Connor nods.
“I want to get to know you better. See if there’s something to build on. To take a chance on. Is that so hard to believe?”
