Adrift, p.1
Adrift, page 1
Adrift
Cruising, book 1
L.A. Witt
Contents
About Adrift
Acknowledgments
1. Eric
2. Andrew
3. Eric
4. Andrew
5. Eric
6. Andrew
7. Eric
8. Andrew
9. Eric
10. Andrew
11. Eric
12. Andrew
13. Eric
14. Andrew
15. Eric
16. Andrew
17. Eric
18. Andrew
19. Eric
20. Andrew
Ashore
Also by L.A. Witt
Also by L.A. Witt
About the Author
Copyright Information
* * *
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Adrift
First edition
Copyright © 2018 L.A. Witt
* * *
Cover Art by Christine Coffee
Edited by Jules Robin
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All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher, and where permitted by law. Reviewers may quote brief passages in a review. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact L.A. Witt at gallagherwitt@gmail.com
* * *
ISBN: 978-1-64230-023-9
Paperback ISBN: 978-1-71738-840-7
Created with Vellum
About Adrift
Cruising, Book #1
* * *
After Andrew Wentz loses his job, his parents take pity and invite him to join them on a Mediterranean cruise. He jumps at the chance, but once he’s aboard, he feels guilty. Shouldn’t he be figuring out what to do with his pathetic life instead of lazing around on a ship?
* * *
The cruise was supposed to be Eric Schofield’s honeymoon, but one cheating fiancé later, he’s traveling solo. Fine. He’s been working too much anyway, so a vacation is exactly what the doctor ordered. He’s on a boat with plenty of hot men, and he’s determined to invite as many of them as he can into his stateroom’s king sized bed.
* * *
When the two men run into each other—literally—it’s crush at first sight. Now Andrew can’t think of anyone else, and Eric only wants one man in his bed. The sparks fly, and it’s the perfect vacation fling, especially since ten days isn’t nearly enough time to develop feelings.
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At least, it’s not supposed to be.
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This transgender gay romance is 49,000 words.
Acknowledgments
Thank you to Jay & Jules.
Chapter 1
Eric
Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
Standing in the doorway of the suite my fiancé and I had reserved for our honeymoon cruise, I felt like shit. Was there still time to bolt off the ship and go ashore? My suitcases might not make it home right away, but at least I’d be on dry land. Not…here.
Except I’d already flown to Barcelona, and I’d already paid for the cruise, so I might as well enjoy it. I briefly considered just spending the next week and a half tooling around in Barcelona, but after a few days, I was already tired of the city. Which probably said more about my state of mind than the city itself. It was hard to work up any enthusiasm for walking Las Ramblas and exploring the Sagrada Familia when all I could think about was the man who hadn’t come with me.
Well, whatever. I was here. He wasn’t.
And for the next ten days, this was home. Time to settle in.
The balcony suite was exactly what the website had promised. The rose petals were a nice touch, sprinkled all over the comforter on the queen size bed I’d be sleeping in alone. The bed took up most of the room. A sitting area made up the rest of it, featuring two armchairs that were the same pastel pink as almost every other surface and decoration.
I was happy to see that my luggage had made it. My two suitcases were lined up neatly beside the bed, not looking any worse for the wear despite their unaccompanied tours of Heathrow and Barcelona-El Prat. The first suitcase hadn’t shown up in London until my second day there, and the other had gone MIA when I’d arrived in Barcelona. I wondered if it was some kind of omen, losing luggage twice on the same trip. Especially when I still had return flights to deal with.
I’d find out, I supposed. Ultimately, though, the suitcases and I had all made it. Only thing missing in this overpriced and over-decorated stateroom was the man I’d been engaged to and the ring I couldn’t return because I hadn’t caught the asshole cheating until after the engraving was done.
I glared at the petal-covered bed. Right then and there, I vowed to fuck as many men as possible in that thing. And on the balcony. Chris and I had gone on and on about all the sex we’d wanted to have on the balcony. Oh, there’d be sex out there on this trip. As much as possible. Wasn’t there an LGBT mixer in one of the night clubs? I’d have to check the itinerary.
For now, that could wait. People were still boarding, and I didn’t feel like socializing at the moment.
At the opposite end of the stateroom from where I was standing like an idiot was a sliding glass door leading out to the balcony, so I went to check that out. As I walked past the sitting area, I ignored the vase with the single red rose in the middle of the coffee table. I didn’t even have to look to know what the stupid card propped up against it probably said. Something like Congratulations Mr. & Mr. Schofield-Wright.
Ah well. At least I hadn’t gone through the motions of changing my last name yet. I’d probably have started signing everything Eric Schofield-Wrong just for spite.
My own thought made me laugh halfheartedly, which was better than I’d been doing recently, so I took it.
The balcony was bigger than I’d expected—room for two deck chairs and a table. Nice view, too. There were privacy dividers between my balcony and the neighbors on either side. Perfect. The noise alone would probably traumatize whoever had the misfortune of being in either of those rooms; they didn’t need to see the actual show.
I chuckled again, this time with some bitterness. As I absently ran a finger along the white metal railing and gazed down at the throngs of people still waiting to board, I reminded myself again and again that there were a few thousand passengers on this cruise. Statistically, at least some of them had to be queer, and my odds of getting one to come back to my stateroom—or take me back to his—were no worse than they were at the average gay bar. Which historically hadn’t been great, but not terrible either.
Except I hadn’t been to the average gay bar in the last four years because I’d been with him and we’d been monogamous. Well, I’d been monogamous.
Sighing, I rubbed my hand over my face. Okay, I’d already spent the London and Barcelona legs of this trip being miserable. Now I was on a cruise. I had almost two weeks—plus two more in Rome—to pull my head out of my ass, have a good time, and make the money I’d spent worthwhile. Hadn’t Chris done enough damage?
Yeah. He had. The motherfucker had. And I’d lost the last few weeks of my life to the long, miserable process of splitting up and canceling a wedding. He didn’t deserve more of that or more of the vacation he’d already monopolized from a distance.
I took in a deep breath of the warm, salty air, and pushed my shoulders back as I looked out at Barcelona. I was going to enjoy this cruise. I was going to have as much sex as I could stand, and even if that didn’t happen, I was still going to have an amazing time.
Despite still feeling the weight of the last few weeks on my shoulders, I managed to smile. Yeah. I was going to enjoy this cruise. Every last minute of it, from stuffing my face to bringing random men into that rose-covered bed for some shameless debauchery.
Good thing I’d remembered to bring condoms.
With a chuckle, I went back into the stateroom. It wasn’t big enough to require a whole lot of exploration, and my little mental pep talk had given me an energy boost. Now I was restless, not to mention eager to get a feel for this floating city.
So I grabbed my wallet and key card, left the stateroom, and went out exploring.
Chapter 2
Andrew
“Mom, I really don’t think that’s necessary.”
“No.” My mother shook her head as she stabbed the keys on the tiny cabin’s phone. “I reserved two cabins next to each other. Not clear at the other end of the ship.”
“Janice.” My dad touched her arm. “He’s thirty-two. He doesn’t need to be next door to his—”
“Yes, this is Mrs. Wentz,” she snapped into the phone. “Yes. Mrs. Wentz. Janice Wentz.” She huffed, rolling her eyes.
Dad and I exchanged glances. He shrugged. What can you do? Not much, that was what. When Mom was on a mission, there was no stopping her.
While my mother read someone on the other end the riot act, Dad and I deposited my suitcases on the narrow twin bed.
“This room really is fine,” I said under my breath.
“I know it is.” He shook his head. “But I wouldn’t unpack yet. Odds are, someone’s going to be moving.”
I groaned. “Let’s at least get some euro out. Whoever ends up coming down here is going to deserve a hell of a tip.”
He grunted softly and nodded as he took out his wallet. We both glanced at my mom. She was gesturing wildly as she verbally tore someone a new one, not even stopping for a breath, let alone to give the other person a chance to speak.
Dad gave me a gentle nudge. “Why don’t you go find one of the gift shops? I think we’re getting low on sunscreen.”
I recognized an out when I saw it and nodded before ducking out of the cabin. Dad would be much better at defusing the situation than me. If I tried, we’d just end up screaming at each other, and we’d either get kicked off the boat or get new accommodations in the brig. Or whatever they called it on a cruise ship. Not the place I wanted to spend my vacation, anyway, least of all with my hot-tempered mother.
Mom and I really did get along most of the time, but we’d been at each other’s throats since we’d boarded our flight in Chicago a few days ago. Add in way too many delays, a miserable flight, and some serious jetlag, and it was a wonder one of us hadn’t tossed the other overboard.
As soon as I was out of earshot and couldn’t hear my mom yelling anymore, I released a breath and rolled my knotted shoulders. It wasn’t like any of this was a surprise. My sister had been shocked I’d taken them up on the offer.
“You,” she’d said incredulously. “And them. For two weeks. On a ship. Have you lost your mind?”
“It’s not like we’ll be sharing a room.” I’d shrugged. “I’ll probably only see them at dinner and on the excursions.”
She’d just grimaced and wished me the best of luck.
As I continued down the passageway, past the long rows of cabins and up to the next deck, I sighed again. Maybe I should have stayed home.
Except what else would I be doing? Sitting at home feeling sorry for myself? I could either be a freshly unemployed idiot sitting at home with his worthless MBA and crushing debt, or I could take my parents up on their offer and be a freshly unemployed idiot sitting on a cruise ship, pretending he didn’t have a worthless MBA and crushing debt. It wasn’t like I had to be diligently applying for jobs daily to stay on unemployment since I hadn’t worked for the company long enough to be eligible for it. Yeah, I needed another job, but I…whatever. I needed a vacation anyway.
Except I had debt. And didn’t want a gap in my résumé. And…
Fuck it. I supposed I could apply for some jobs while I was on the ship.
Oh yeah. That sounded like a fantastic way to spend a vacation—applying for jobs that required two MBAs, twenty years experience, and a notarized reference from God. Though it might be less depressing on a sun chair with a tropical drink in my hand than at home on the couch with store-brand Coke and a bowl of ramen. As a bonus, it might even be an excuse to bow out of whatever activities Mom had signed us—
“Shit!” I skidded to a halt as someone came around the corner right in front of me, but I didn’t react fast enough. We collided hard enough to knock us both off-balance. I grabbed the wall. He grabbed my arm. Between us, we managed to keep from toppling completely.
As I righted myself, he let go. “Sorry,” he said. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I brushed at my shirt for some reason. “Just, uh, wasn’t paying attention.”
He laughed. “Same here. Off in my own little world I guess.” He was an American too, judging by the accent.
“Don’t worry about it. It happens. It’s…” Whatever I was going to say died on my tongue when I actually looked at him.
Holy crap. This guy was hot. Maybe an inch or two shorter than me with rich brown eyes and a pair of black sunglasses pushed up into his dark hair. He had that sort-of-pink complexion like he might’ve been sunburned, but it was quickly fading into a nice tan. A thin, meticulously trimmed beard framed his jaw. I wasn’t usually into facial hair, but on him, I dug it.
He cleared his throat as the sunburn-tan deepened a little, and I realized I’d been staring.
“Sorry. I…” I coughed too. “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He flashed me a smile that almost made me stumble again, then turned and kept walking.
Stupidly, I stood there and watched him go. I felt like I should say something, but…what? Hey, come back so I can hit on you?
I shook my head and continued in the direction I’d been headed. My pickup game was about as hot as my job search game. And besides, just because he was attractive didn’t mean he was gay. In fact, with the way my luck had been going lately, he was undoubtedly straight. He was probably on his way to his cabin to meet up with his wife and their two-point-five kids. And he probably had two MBAs, twenty years experience, and that notarized reference from God, and could nail an interview without breaking a sweat.
I laughed to myself. Okay, the jetlag was really getting to me now. I was cranky and bitter, and I just needed to pick up the sunscreen at the shop, go back to the cabin, and gently nudge my parents out the door long enough for me to have a nap. Once I’d had some sleep, I could eat. After that I’d feel fine.
And then my vacation could begin.
Chapter 3
Eric
It was the second day of the cruise, and the ship was at sea. Tonight, we’d dock in Palma de Mallorca, but for now, we sailed through gorgeous Mediterranean waters—vivid blue as far as the eye could see—while people explored the boat and settled in.
I did some exploring myself. After my morning workout and a nice breakfast at one of the buffets, I wandered from deck to deck, bow to stern, checking out all the amenities the website had advertised. I’d been skeptical that they could even fit that much onto one ship, but I’d been wrong. The vessel was enormous, and it was packed with everything from a library to a movie theater. There were enough restaurants, I could eat every meal at a different one and never visit the same place twice.
The scenery wasn’t bad either. Plenty of eye candy among both passengers and crew. Some were even promisingly queer—at least enough to exchange some suggestive glances and grins. Yeah, I was getting laid before this cruise was over. And after that I’d have two weeks in Rome to get my fill of hot Italian men, which was especially promising after I’d spent some time on a hookup app last night. Three nibbles already. Fuck yeah.
So why did my mind keep drifting back to the guy who’d crashed into me by the gift shop yesterday? From the moment I’d made eye contact with him, I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him.
Okay, to be fair, I’d also ogled the hell out of two flight attendants, a concierge, at least half a dozen waiters, and a couple of stupidly hot cops at the Barcelona Sants train station. I was newly single and I was horny. Hot men were turning my head. There was a reason I’d set like six reminders so I wouldn’t miss that LGBT mixer down at the Starlight Bar.
Cruise ships were massive, and there were thousands of people on board, but a friend had told me that whenever she’d gone on a cruise, there’d be a dozen or so passengers she couldn’t not cross paths with. They’d wind up at the same restaurants, on the same excursions, at the same blackjack tables. Seemed like she was right, too—I’d started noticing some familiar faces already, like the elderly Greek couple across the hall from me and a pair of stunningly gorgeous black women who never seemed to wear more than string bikinis.
