Page 85 of Ship Happens

“I want to kiss you,” Jacob says, his voice almost pleading. “I want to hold you to my chest, keep you close to me tonight. I want to share a bed with you.”

Carefully, he extends his knees to saddle himself in Jacob’s lap, throwing his arms over Jacob’s shoulders. Their lips press together, mouths opening and tongues sliding in next to each other’s as Jacob’s hands skim Owen’s waist, pulling Owen down as Jacob falls back onto the bed. “I want that too.”

Neither one of them sleeps all that much that night. When they aren’t making out, they talk about nothing important at all, and then Owen will lean in to kiss Jacob again. Or Jacob will pull Owen closer, pressing their lips together. And for hours, they don’t think about the consequences of their actions, the repercussions they’re going to face in the morning, or the conversations that they’re going to have to have at some point.

They just allow themselves to get lost in each other.

Chapter Fourteen

We Cross That Bridge When We Get to It

Owen wakes up to drool that isn’t his own drying on his chest, and a numb tingling in his arm from where Jacob has been sleeping on it for the last few hours.

And he doesn’t mind one bit.

He can’t even pretend to care that he’s trapped, forced to watch as Jacob breathes in and out softly, his head nestled against Owen’s mostly hairless chest, his breath warm against Owen’s skin.

He takes all the time he wants to study the strong lines of Jacob’s face, the subtle indications that he’s aged a whole year, that sharp nose and those full lips. There’s the smattering of soft freckles along his cheeks. There are the acne scars, left over from Jacob’s teenage years, and that one weird spot high on his cheek where a single thick black beard hair is growing all by its lonesome. He eyes the dark purple marks that he left on Jacob’s chest, making sure that they were low enough to be hidden by any T-shirt.

Two more days, he thinks.

Two more days until they’re back in San Francisco, and then maybe a few more days of Jacob being in the Bay before he goes back to the lab, and they both have to return to their real lives.

But what if they didn’t have to?

What if Owen told Jacob that he’d go with him, that he’d be willing to fill out all of the paperwork, find new doctors, get relicensed to tattoo and pass the blood pathogen certification again. Give up his dream of opening a shop, at least for a few years. Give up his home. Risk feeling the most alone and miserable he might ever feel.

Would it be worth it? Just to have Jacob back in his life?

“Hmm . . .” Jacob grumbles, shuffling a bit to make himself more comfortable against Owen’s naked chest. “You’re awake.” His voice is a low murmur as he smiles at Owen, barely opening his eyes.

“Yeah,” Owen tells him. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

Home. He’s thinking about home.

“Nothing,” Owen says, his hand moving automatically to run through Jacob’s hair. It’s always oily when he first wakes up, causing it to stick up in a hundred different directions. “What were you dreaming about?”

“I don’t remember . . .” Jacob says. “I think I was back in high school and I couldn’t open up my locker, and the bell kept ringing.”

“That’s a very vivid recollection for ‘I don’t remember.’”

“Did it ever occur to you that I wasn’t interested in reliving my trauma?” Jacob tries for a joke. Owen smiles at him softly. “We should get up. Before someone notices that you’re in here,” Jacob whispers, but he doesn’t make a move to actually get up.

“We should . . .” Owen doesn’t budge either; he just closes his eyes again, dreaming of a world where he’d get to have these mornings again, the both of them perpetually late for work because they’re so desperate for just a few more seconds together.

Then comes the knocking.

“Jacob?” Kaitlyn’s voice echoes against the door. “You awake?”

Both men freeze, their eyes wide, mouths open as they try to silently conjure up a plan.

“Don’t answer,” Owen whispers, his voice barely audible. “She’ll think you’re still asleep.”

“Uh . . .” Jacob’s voice cracks loudly. “Yeah, I’m up.”

Owen buries his face in his pillow, letting out a silent groan.