Page 82 of Ship Happens

“Yeah,” Owen replies, holding the compact device up as proof.

“Could I ask you to . . .” Jacob wonders, offering Owen his shirt, which he’s happy to take. Never mind that it smells just like him.

Once dressed, the entire group is escorted by Kaitlyn to one of the higher floors aboard the ship, making their way to a Brazilian steakhouse, the sort of place where waiters walk around displaying cuts of meat for diners to pick from.

Truthfully, the only thing Owen cares about is the pão de queijo, the tapioca cheese bread that comes complimentary with their meals.

“Don’t fill up,” Abigail warns as another plate of the steaming bread is dropped off at their table.

“Hey, I don’t get normal bread, okay?” Owen protests. “Let me have one thing.”

The dinner itself is delicious, though, fatty, tender cuts of meat delivered right to their table. As the night passes, and everyone becomes a responsible level of drunk—save for Kaitlyn and Owen—their bellies full of meat and bread, they all recline back in their seats, hands on their stomachs, until the waiters deliver slices of baked cheese drizzled with honey, and then suddenly everyone has room for more.

“Is this the part of the night where I tell you guys I wanted us to go to Little Shop of Horrors tonight?” Kaitlyn asks, her forehead a little shiny under the warm lights of the restaurant. “I got us tickets and everything.”

“Fuck no, that’s not happening.” Kevin groans, throwing his head back as he sinks further into the booth. “I got the meat sweats.”

“No way I’m moving for the rest of the night,” Jacob adds, eyes shut tight. “I’ve never been this stuffed full of meat before.”

“Anything to say to that, Owen?” Kaitlyn teases.

Owen’s so full, all he can do is give her the middle finger.

“How about a movie night?” Abigail offers before she amends, “Not at the theater. In the room?”

“That sounds perfect,” Kaitlyn says as the waiter comes by to deliver the bill.

Back in the suite and armed with a doggie bag full of even more pão de queijo, they all take the time to change into far more comfortable clothes before they plant themselves on the couch. Owen can’t help himself from picking the spot right next to Jacob, edging closer as their friends argue for an hour over which movie to pick from the small catalog offered by the cruise company. Eventually the lights are dimmed, and they settle on a bad horror movie.

It’s standard fare for Owen, who thankfully isn’t an easily terrified person. His friends, however? The movie gets them at all the expected moments. The loud orchestral stings that make Owen roll his eyes cause them to jump every time, and when an alien creature melts some poor guy’s face with acid, they all cover their eyes.

It’d be an uneventful night if not for the way that Jacob sidles up next to him, looking for any place to feel a bit safer. Owen’s heart thuds in his chest the closer Jacob inches, his body worming against Owen’s until he’s practically being pressed into the arm of the sofa.

During one particularly bad jump scare, Jacob reaches for Owen’s hand underneath the blanket, squeezing tight. Owen waits for the moment to end, for Jacob to realize what he’s doing, to take his hand back.

But he doesn’t.

Not until the movie is over and Kaitlyn turns the lights on, the two of them flinching like they’ve been caught. Jacob finds episodes of Kitchen Nightmares that’ve been uploaded to YouTube so that they can all wind down. Kaitlyn sprawls out on the couch, her head in Abigail’s lap, eyes closed while her hair is played with.

Kevin’s on the floor, more than a little drunk, and very invested in the sob story currently playing out on-screen. “This one’s closed too!” he cries, reading through the list he found breaking down the fate of every restaurant on the show.

And Owen and Jacob sit there, next to each other, trying to ignore what happened.

Owen looks at Jacob, catching him just as he’s looking away from Owen, his heart thudding heavy in his chest. It was supposed to be easy, to let him go, to resist this pull back to him. But Owen just can’t do it anymore.

Or maybe he just doesn’t want to pretend anymore.

Who says I would’ve regretted it?

There’s no real room for interpretation. Jacob wanted to kiss him back. Where would things have gone had their friends not come back to the room last night? Would Owen have let Jacob press his hands against his hips, pulling him in close, slipping his tongue into Owen’s mouth? Would he have followed Jacob into his room? Crawled into bed with him? Kissed him? Fallen asleep with his head on Jacob’s chest?

Yes, he absolutely would have.

He would’ve followed Jacob wherever he went. Except he hadn’t. He could’ve put aside his fears, his selfishness, he could’ve saved their relationship by following Jacob. But he’d been too much of a coward. Too afraid of change, too afraid of letting go of the only life he’d ever felt comfortable in.

It’s not too late, though. It’s never too late to try again, right?

The shop can wait, Owen can set aside everything he’s worked for, he can sell the things he’d be okay parting with, he could quit the shop, get a visa, work on getting licensed to tattoo again, pack up Fitzwilliam, and move back in with Jacob.