Page 4 of Love On Deck
“…Andrew,” says Will.
A slight widening of the eyes and a blink are the only signs that Drew’s—Andrew’s recognized him, as far as Connor can tell.
Andrew offers his hand. “Nice to meet you,” he says, making no mention of their meeting last night.
Maybe he saw Connor’s freak-out in his eyes or something. Maybe Will doesn’t know Andrew’s gay. Connor shakes his head internally. No, he does. Casey’s mentioned it once or twice. Well, whatever the reason for his discretion, Connor is thankful.
The slide of Andrew’s fingers across Connor’s palm sends a shiver through him. He remembers those textured fingers well, but his hopes for a round two are most definitely dashed. Having a shipboard fling with a random stranger is one thing. Having a shipboard fling with his sister’s fiancé’s best man? Yeah. No. Not going to happen.
“Nice to meet you, Andrew,” he says.
Andrew’s gaze zips up and down Connor’s body. A wrinkle forms on his forehead, and Connor understands why. He barely resembles the man who picked Andrew up in the bar the previous evening. Last night, he was Connor, gay man. Today, he’s Connor Kulyk, Triple A ballplayer and closeted homosexual. Instead of skinny jeans and a snug tee shirt, he’s wearing decidedly non-skinny chinos and a long-sleeved button-down over a dark tee shirt. There’s no eyeliner, and his hair is a bit, okay, a lot, fluffy compared to last night’s au natural, if sweaty, style.
The server stops by and Connor requests a Mimosa with sparkling water and a splash of cranberry juice rather than champagne. Andrew’s dark eyebrow twitches, but he doesn’t ask. They might have had sex last night, but they don’t know each other.
“Now that Connor’s here, shall we get the buffet?” asks Casey, smiling and happy and glowing like a bride-to-be should be. Good. She seems to have missed whatever the hell just happened.
“Sure, sounds good,” says Connor, standing. Being left alone with Andrew right now isn’t a good idea. There would be questions he doesn’t want to answer. Not here and not now. Not right under Casey’s nose. The four of them make their way to the buffet and return to the table where his mock-Mimosa now waits.
“Connor plays baseball,” Casey says, taking her seat, “for the Ardmore Armadillos.”
Andrew nods and looks at Connor, his expression both enlightened and confused.
Not many people are familiar with baseball outside the Major Leagues unless their kid plays it. “It’s a Triple A team.”
“Ah. Gotcha,” says Andrew. “I don’t really follow Triple A, but I do love baseball. We don’t have a pro team in Austin, though, so I generally follow the Astros.”
Connor smiles and nods. “They did pretty good last season.”
“If you consider making it to the World Series pretty good,” he says and laughs.
A discussion of baseball ensues while they eat. Andrew asks how Triple A leads to the major leagues, about the Triple A leagues in general, and about his season schedule. Connor looks down to find his plate empty and reaches for his drink. He’s pleasantly full.
“Where’d you get off to last night, Connor?” Casey asks just as Connor takes a sip. “You disappeared after dinner.”
There’s a muted cough to Connor’s left as he inhales some bubbles and then coughs and chokes and breathes harshly for a moment. “Sorry,” he wheezes, “swallowed wrong.”
Casey and Will look on in slight alarm. Andrew’s eyebrows are arched high above his sky blue eyes, but his mouth is hidden by the thick white coffee mug pressed to his lips. If there’s a smirk or knowing grin of any sort, it’s concealed.
Once he gets his throat and lungs clear, Connor says, “I explored the ship,” though his voice is still a bit rough around the edges. He clears his throat again. “I wanted to get the lay of the land as it were.”
Andrew snorts.
“There are maps all over the place,” says Will, “as well as in your cabin.”
“What difference does it make?” he asks, taking a breath to calm his spiked heart rate. “Jesus. I’m not ten anymore. I wanted to check out the ship, stretch my legs.” Neither of which is a lie. “I was stuck in the car for four hours straight with you two with no rest stops. So, just like when the team bus reaches its destination, I expended energy.”
A harsh clank sounds from his left, drawing everyone’s gaze.
“Sorry,” Andrew says, picking up his fork and stabbing a last hunk of pineapple.
“All right,” Casey says, clearly displeased with Connor’s explanation or his tone. He’s not sure which and he doesn’t much care. “What do you want to do today?”
“I need to finish working out,” Connor says. “We’re right in the middle of spring training, and I swore an oath on pain of death that I’d spend at least five hours a day working out. So no excursions either.”
Casey’s face falls and Connor resists the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m sorry, Case. You know I had to jump through a dozen hoops just to come on the cruise. If I return to Oklahoma out of shape and more than five pounds heavier than when I left, my ass is grass. The only reason they agreed was because this is my last week on the injured reserve list. I’ve been with the team five years, I don’t cause trouble, I do what I’m told, and I never ask for anything. So they let me come with a list of stipulations.
“So. We can hang out this afternoon and there’s dinner. I know there’re a couple of shows, too, okay?”
