“You sure?” Lucas grinned. “Pop gave me clear instructions to make sure you had a good time.”
“I know how to have a good time.” Too good a time. Though if he was honest, it’d been a few years since that was true. He’d packed enough living—and mistakes—into his teens and early twenties to double the gray hairs on Pop’s head, and after the old man’s heart attack when Alex was twenty-two, he’d resolved not to be the cause of any more stress or worry.
That plan had backfired, though, because now Pop was convinced Alex would die grizzled and alone in the bar the old man opened. It didn’t sound like such a terrible fate from where Alex stood, but telling Pop as much had resulted in these fucking cruise plans. The grandfather he’d grown up with hadn’t known the meaning of vacation, but apparently Mexico was enough to loosen some of those rules, and he expected Alex to fall in line, just like always.
It was only eight days. He could survive eight days of this bullshit.
“You’re right. You know how to have a good time. That’s why you’re scowling at everyone.” Lucas sighed. “Look, man, you don’t have to party on this ship if you don’t want to. I don’t plan on it. But no reason not to enjoy yourself while you’re here.”
Easy enough for Lucas to say. He’d always been the even-keeled friend. The one who didn’t have to make a conscious effort not to fuck up every single second of every single day. The most scandalous thing about him, if it could even be called that, was that he was bi and sort of in the closet about it, but that barely counted as a “problem.” When Alex fucked up, he fucked up, and other people paid the price.
Better to avoid all that bullshit in the first place.
Lucas sighed. “I’m not saying go full party animal. Just smile for once instead of scowling. You’re going to scare someone.”
Someone like the little brunette who’d all but sprinted in the opposite direction the second she laid eyes on him. He couldn’t tell the color of the eyes in question, but she had the most decadent lips he’d ever seen. Pouty and plump enough to have a man thinking sinful thoughts.
If that man was interested in getting into trouble.
Alex wasn’t. End of story. But as he looked at his friend, he decided maybe Lucas was right. No matter that he’d been steamrolled into his vacation, there wasn’t a single damn reason not to enjoy it now that he was here. The wind chose that moment to kick up, and he shivered. “Let’s get this room shit sorted and get a drink.”
“There he is.” Lucas clapped him on the shoulder. “Trust me. This doesn’t have to be a torturous experience. You might even have fun despite yourself.”
“You should take your own advice while we’re here.”
Lucas grinned. “Maybe I will.”
An hour later, their shit in their respective cabins and drinks in their hands, they stood by the bar that shone in the low light. It was as far from his bar as something could be and still maintain the same label. There were no scuff marks, no stains, no character. Everything was streamlined and perfect and left him feeling like the only flaw in the room was his shitty attitude. He could admit, at least to himself, that this might be exactly the change of pace both Lucas and Pop claimed he needed.
They’d barely left port, but the party was already in full swing. Despite the low music, a handful of couples writhed together next to the bar, a version of foreplay he’d seen played out with college kids countless times. They were young, well on their way to being drunk, and determined to live their lives to the fullest.
He seriously hoped this ship had stocked up on condoms, or they ran the risk of a widespread STI outbreak. The thought made him turn away from the scene. Fuck, he when did he get so old?
And there she was.
The brunette.
She stood around a tall table with three other white women and a guy, but she was the only one he could focus on. Her dark hair shone like some kind of beacon, the sight a hook in his chest. He actually took a step toward her before he caught himself. That shit was not why he was here. She might be pretty in the flawless kind of way that a perverse part of him wanted to smudge, but everything from her floral dress to her pretty pale pink lipstick was a giant neon warning sign for him to stay the fuck away.
That, and the fact she all but ran from him earlier.
Alex might be a dick sometimes, but he could take a hint. He forced himself to turn back to the bar. “I think I’m going to crash early.”