Out of Frame

by Megan Erickson

  No one spoke for a good ten seconds.

  The thing was, I knew Levi. He wasn’t at a loss for words. He was waiting for me to say something. Probably involving a word that started with s and ended in y.

  “Hey,” I said first.

  He placed a hand on his hip, his expression stubbornly impassive.

  “So, yeah,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

  Again with the no-talking thing while those green eyes threatened to level me where I stood.

  I sighed. “I’m sorry I was an asshole. What I did was uncalled for. But it had nothing to do with the fact that you two are guys, okay?”

  Levi raised any eyebrow.

  I ran a hand over my shaved head. “I’m dealing with something personal, and I took it out on you today. That’s no excuse, but there it is.”

  Levi always had to be the nice guy. Immediately, his face softened. “Is it Darren? Is there anything I can do? Want to talk about it?”

  “It’s not Darren. And don’t do that. Don’t be nice to me when you have every right to punch me in the face.”

  His eyes narrowed a little at that. “I’m a pacifist.”

  The man hated any violence, and it was one of the reasons his sister’s deployment was such a sore spot for him. He wanted her back, safe and sound. “Right, well, you should . . . make me sleep on the floor, then.”

  Levi smiled. “Look, I know you, so while that outburst pissed me off, I’m not going to hold it against you. Quinn, on the other hand . . .” He shrugged. “You owe him a whopper of an apology.”

  Yeah, that’s what I was hoping to avoid. “We’re only on the cruise for five more days—”

  “Don’t be that guy,” Levi said, his voice tight. “Don’t be that guy who’ll ruin another person’s vacation because you’re too chickenshit to say you’re sorry. He was upset and he deserves an apology.”

  It wasn’t that I was too chickenshit. It was that I didn’t trust myself around him. I clenched my jaw. “Fine. I’m sure I’ll run into him.”

  Levi moved to his suitcase and rummaged around, then pulled out a tank top. He changed quickly before fixing his hair in the mirror. “You can tell him yourself. He’ll be here in a minute.”

  “What?”

  A light tapping sounded from our open door. Quinn stepped inside. “Levi—”

  But like déjà vu, he froze when he saw me.

  I chewed my lip as Quinn stared at me with impossibly wide eyes. He’d done something to his hair, so it was brushed back with a bump in the front. He wore a thin tank top, a pair of board shorts, and flip-flops.

  I swallowed and glanced at Levi. “Um . . .”

  “I’ll just . . .” Quinn motioned behind him. “Wait out here. I guess.”

  “No, Quinn—”

  He stopped but his eyes were downcast. I hated that, like he was afraid of me. I blew out a breath and looked at Levi helplessly. “Can you, uh, give us a minute?”

  Levi wanted to roll his eyes. I knew it. Instead, he pursed his lips. “Sure.” He walked over to Quinn. “J. R. wants to talk to you, and I promise he’ll behave himself. Want to meet me there?”

  Quinn swallowed. “Sure.”

  Levi nodded, and with one last look at me, he left the cabin.

  I motioned for Quinn to step inside, and he did, shutting the door behind him.

  And then I was alone in my cabin with the guy I couldn’t stop thinking about.

  Chapter Nine

  Quinn

  I wasn’t scared of the guy. I wasn’t. But I was done with his hot-and-cold bullshit. I didn’t need that, not on the trip of a lifetime with my best friend. I took a deep breath and blurted out exactly what I thought, not thinking about how badly this conversation could go. “You’re an asshole.”

  He jerked a little, as if my words surprised him, then scratched the back of his neck, his gaze on his feet. He wore a T-shirt with the sleeves cut off, raggedy jean shorts, and Converse high-tops. Even looking like a scrub, he was hot.

  Damn him.

  I waited, an apology on the tip of my tongue for that outburst. If it would have been anyone other than J. R., I would have been rushing to apologize. Except I didn’t want to apologize. And with J. R., I didn’t immediately feel the need to cover up my discomfort.

  It seemed to take ages before he mumbled softly, “I am.”

  I hadn’t expected him to agree so easily. I still had more steam to burn off, more names to call him. He was supposed to defend himself so I could continue to rail him. “Yeah.” I shifted my weight from foot to foot, like a boxer. “Yeah, you are.” God, I was lame. I couldn’t even come up with any more insults.

  He raised his head, and the look in his eyes effectively cooled the anger pulsing through my veins. He looked wrecked and vulnerable and unlike anytime I’d ever seen him. “J. R.?”

  Stepping closer, he swallowed slowly and licked his full lips. The heat of his body soaked through the fabric of my thin T-shirt, igniting my skin. He towered over me, and for a split second, fear pierced me. Except there was a look in his eyes, a look that made me peer up at him to try to get a better read on his mood. “J. R?” I asked again.

  “What is it about you?” he said quietly, his head tilted down so our gazes met.

  I squinted up at him. “What is it about me that makes you act nice to me one minute and then be an asshole the next?”

  A small upward tilt of his lips. “We already established that I’m an asshole.”

  “I know, but I wanted to remind you. I also wanted to remind you that you are nice to me sometimes.”

  He smiled then, all white teeth. I couldn’t back up anymore as my shoulder blades touched the wall. Our chests brushed as he leaned down. “No, what is it about you that makes me want to say Fuck it?”

  “Fuck what?”

  His long lashes shuttered over his eyes, hiding those deep brown depths from me. He bent his head and I stared at the top of it, at the hair he kept shaved close to the scalp. He was standing so close to me, and just a minute before, his heated gaze had seared me. Maybe I was reading this whole situation wrong. Maybe he’d punch me in the face. But I had to try. I raised my hand and laid it gently on his head, massaging my fingers into his scalp.

  His hair was soft under my palm as the skin shifted over his skull. His shoulders hitched once as he inhaled sharply. I paused my ministrations, but he didn’t move, frozen in place like a giant wax sculpture.

  So I continued to move my fingers and watched the tension leach out of his shoulders as he groaned softly.

  This way, I didn’t have to see his eyes, and he didn’t have to see mine. We could probably still convince ourselves this was a touch between friends. That this wasn’t . . . gay.

  But then J. R. took a deep breath and lifted his head.

  And when his gaze met mine, I knew there was no coming back from this.

  Not when he placed his palms on the wall beside my head, not when his face drew closer, and especially not when his lips brushed mine.

  “Quinn,” he whispered.

  “Yeah?”

  There was a beat of silence. “Fuck it.”

  And then there was no gentle brush of his lips on mine. There was no mistaking this as anything but a kiss full of lust and pent-up attraction and want.

  He devoured my mouth, opening it with his lips and dipping his tongue inside to meet mine. I lifted my hands and grabbed his head, digging my fingers into the skin behind his ears, holding his head to mine because holy shit, we were kissing.

  Something about making out, a hot body pressed against mine, melted away my restraint. It always did. And this was no exception as I pulled him closer, as I hooked a leg around his thigh, wanting to climb him, anything to get him closer, anything to grind my hips against his, get some friction on my neglected dick.

  “Fuck y
es,” he whispered against my mouth as he grabbed the back of my thighs and wrapped my legs around his waist. He braced my back against the wall and continued to plunder my mouth, rolling his hips against mine.

  I couldn’t breathe, with his chest pressed against mine, and I didn’t want to. He was grinding into me harder, never letting go of my mouth as his big hands kneaded my ass.

  I cursed clothing, I cursed this tiny cabin, and I cursed . . .

  Wait. J. R. was straight. And taken.

  With all the measly willpower I had in my body, I wrenched my mouth away from his, breathing hard, my face tingling from his lips and his stubble. “What’s going on?”

  J. R.’s pupils were blown, his lips swollen and wet. My hands slipped down to his chest, and he slowly let my feet drop to the floor. He squeezed his eyes shut, hiding the panic swirling there. “Shit.”

  I pushed him away, even though I didn’t want to, and he let himself stumble backward. I pressed my palms to the wall at my back and worked on breathing steady and not freaking out. “Are you . . . curious? Sure, that was the best kiss of my life, but I’m not keen on being J. R. Butler’s experiment.”

  His gaze was pained when it flicked to mine. “It’s not what you think.”

  “It’s not what I think? Seriously, that’s your line right now?”

  “Quinn—”

  A loud knock rattled the door, making me jump about a foot in the air. “J. R.!”

  He rubbed his forehead, his gaze on me. “What, Doug?”

  “Need you on the deck.”

  “In a min—”

  “Now, buddy.”

  J. R. took a heaving breath and clenched his fists. “Okay.” He turned away and I stared down at the floor. When his shadow fell across me, I hesitated. I’d taken a leap a moment ago. I was so far off the path, I was cutting through overgrown weeds with a machete. I inhaled sharply and looked up. Gone were the glazed eyes, the soft expression. His jaw was tight, face impassive. And when he spoke, my heart sank into the floor. “Just wait five minutes and leave.”

  Those six words brought back every single emotion I swore I’d left behind with Alexander. I was a dirty secret. That was all I was worth.

  When would I ever be loved by someone who was proud of me?

  I managed to cobble together what dignity I had left, when all I wanted to do was claw off my skin. I felt disgusting. “Fine.” My voice sounded odd.

  A glimmer of human flickered over his face before he returned to cyborg. “Thanks.”

  “Mmmmhmmm, anytime.”

  Before he walked out of the cabin, he scribbled on a piece of paper and pressed it into the palm of my hand, then opened the door and walked out, shutting it behind him.

  I shoved the paper into my pocket without looking at it and glared around the room. I was tempted to do some destruction, but that wasn’t fair to Levi. So I stared at the clock, waiting for five minutes to pass so I could leave and take a shower as soon as possible.

  ***

  When Jess came back from yoga, her blond hair swinging from a rare ponytail, I was sitting on my bed staring at the piece of paper in my hands.

  I hadn’t showed up at the party with Levi, because after I read the note, I knew I wasn’t fit for public consumption.

  Jess frowned at me as she walked into the bathroom. She washed her face quickly and walked out, drying herself with a towel. “Quinn? You feeling okay?”

  I ran my fingers over the back of the note, where the force of the pen had almost broken through the paper. Please let me explain. Meet me at our spot tomorrow, it said.

  My mind replayed the kiss again, like it had for the last hour—the brush of his lips on mine, his taste, his desire for me, of all people. I’d been so angry when he’d discarded me, but now I wondered if he’d been doing it to protect both of us. This was exhausting, though, to second-guess everything J. R. did, wondering if it was really how he felt, or if he was putting on an act for the cameras.

  “Quinn?” She sat down beside me and peered at the piece of paper. “What’s that about? Who’s it from?”

  I rolled my lips between my teeth. “J. R.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Is he going to apologize for that stunt he pulled at the contest?”

  I wished that were the only problem between us now. But he’d kissed me. J. R. Butler had kissed me. The dance competition paled in comparison to our issues now. I couldn’t tell Jess that, though. “Uh, yeah, I think so.”

  “He runs hot and cold, doesn’t he?” She stood up and pawed through her suitcase. “I know I was hard on him, but now I’m thinking the whole cast is stressed out. I can’t imagine my life in front of the camera all the time, you know?”

  I nodded. “Yeah.” I folded the note and slipped it into my pocket. “You think I should go?”

  She peeled off her yoga clothes and pulled on a big T-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts. “I’d go. Look, I know you and you’re analyzing every scenario and the fifty million ways things could go wrong, but I’m sure he just wants to apologize.”

  I nodded. I’d never had so many decisions to make in my life. When my future was stretched in front of me, clear as day, there was no need to take leaps of faith. Maybe J. R. was gay and closeted. Maybe he cheated on his girlfriend all the time. Maybe he wanted to hook up while on the ship.

  That wasn’t what I wanted, though. I didn’t need J. R. to declare me to the world after we’d known each other for five days, but I couldn’t let him touch me knowing he was cheating on a girlfriend. No way.

  The safest decision would be to forget that blistering kiss and avoid J. R. for the rest of the cruise. Jack off to the fantasy of him touching me, knowing it’d never be reality.

  I dropped my head in my hands and groaned. I wanted to spill my guts to Jess, but I couldn’t do that without betraying J. R.

  “You need a bodyguard? I’ll go with you.”

  I smiled at Jess as she leaned against the wall, and shook my head. “No, it’s okay. By the way, how was yoga?”

  “Good, except Casey was there and he laid his mat right beside me and made a show of staring at my boobs and ass the whole time.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Ew.”

  “Right? After his shit fit, why does he insist on talking to me?”

  “Do you still think he’s hot?”

  She hesitated, and I pointed a finger at her while bouncing on the bed. “Ah-ha! You do!”

  Throwing a pair of jeans at me that were on the floor, she growled, “I hate you.”

  “Do not.”

  She stomped her foot like a kid. “Why does he have to be hot still? Why couldn’t he get a super big pimple in the middle of his forehead right now?”

  “Good skin care regime?”

  She laughed and slid to the floor on her butt, bent knees in front of her. “I don’t know.”

  “J. R. told me they aren’t who they appear to be on camera.” I shrugged. “I’m trying to remember they have bad days just like us, right? They aren’t any different from us except they have a camera in their faces.”

  Jess played with the ends of her ponytail. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  My hand strayed to my pocket and I tapped the outside, listening to the crinkle of the paper inside. I’d just made the decision on whether I’d meet J. R. on the deck. I hoped it wasn’t the wrong one.

  Chapter Ten

  J. R.

  The sun rising out of the ocean cast a yellow-and-orange glow over the calm waters of the Atlantic. I picked at the Sea-Bands on my wrist, which I’d worn since the day Quinn had given them to me. It was either that or feel like shit for the entire trip.

  I settled my elbows on the railing and watched the water lap at the side of the ship. I shivered, the height doing weird things to my head and stomach. Like I needed that, since I was already nervous as hell.
>
  The last time I’d been on the deck at this hour, I had been sick as a dog until Quinn had appeared. And now I was here, hoping he’d show up. Had he looked at the piece of paper I’d given him? Or had he looked at it, cursed me out, then thrown it away? He could be in his cabin now, sleeping peacefully, while I sweated my ass off on the deck. That would probably be better for both of us. But he deserved an explanation, one where I didn’t feel rushed or have a camera breathing down my neck. The cameras couldn’t hear what I had to say.

  I glanced at my watch. 5:59 am.

  I was going to be here for a while, because I planned on giving him as much time as I could.

  The hum of the ship’s engines was soothing, as well as the sound of the water. I closed my eyes, lifted my head, and inhaled the salty air.

  “Hey,” said a voice behind me.

  I looked over my shoulder to see Quinn standing on the deck about ten feet away. He wore a pair of mesh shorts and a faded Nike T-shirt that said Just Do It. His hair was sleep rumpled and there was a line on his face made by his pillowcase. He must have known because he rubbed at it self-consciously with his palm while his gaze dropped to the floor.

  “Hey,” I said back.

  He didn’t answer. I knew it was my turn to apologize again. He wasn’t meeting my eyes, but at least he’d shown up. He was willing to hear me out. The thing was, I had no idea where to start.

  So I blurted out the first thing I wanted him to know. “There’s no Andrea.”

  His gaze darted up quickly, his mouth dropping open. After a moment, his lips turned down and his brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “She’s . . .” I waved a hand. “Made up. Fake. A cover.”

  Quinn took a step toward me. Once. Twice, until he was close enough that I could see the individual freckles on his face. “A cover for what?”

  “A cover because I’m . . .” Fuck, was I really going to say this? Quinn could spread the rumor all over the entire ship and I’d be screwed. But if there was one thing I prided myself on from growing up in Jersey, it was learning to read people.

  And fuck me if I was wrong, but I swore I could read Quinn. And my read told me I could trust him.