1. GRIFFIN

The last place I expected myself to end up was hungover at the cruise terminal with my best friend and his partner. Every thing up until this point had been a blur, and I was beginning to question every decision I'd made up until this point.

"Oh look, that's our ship," Ryan said.

I'd never seen a cruise ship before. They were enormous. It almost felt like they weren't real at all. I could only stare at them through my sunglasses, trying not to let my brain implode with the headache brewing.

"I knew we shouldn't have gone out last night," Thom said, Ryan's boyfriend of three years, and nearly fifteen years older than him.

Ryan was far too peppy and upbeat, even if it was the afternoon. "We're in Barcelona, of course we should take advantage of it."

I had to agree with Ryan, we were out of the US and in a country where the men where hot, spoke Spanish, and anything they said was considered flirting to me. "I just want to board already."

"Once we're through passport control," Thom said. "It'll be plain sailing."

"Literally," Ryan snorted.

That wasn't even my biggest worry.

This trip was an adults-only pride cruise. A thousand LGBTQ+ people were descending on the port to board this annual cruise of the Spanish coast all the way to Portugal and back again.

My current worry was taking part in a scheme where your ticket was discounted if you took part in their matchmaking scheme. It wasn't technically matchmaking, but so many people got together from it that it was informally known as such. I was solo on this and rooms were two-person occupancy, so it was much cheaper to book alone and share a room with someone else. Of course, you got to choose certain specifications, like, who you want to be sharing a room with.

I chose a guy, mostly from the pressure of Ryan telling me it could be a great opportunity to find either a new friend, or a new romance. And I was stupid enough to fall for it. My anxiety now was sky high and that was probably mostly to do with the alcohol in my system.

There was no saying who I'd be paired up in a room with, but what I did know was I'd purchased the drinks package on board and that was going to keep my pretty busy for the next nine days.

Once we were through the passport people, wheeling our luggage along, I finally took in the immense view of the ship. This was my first cruise. Ryan and Thom had been on this cruise last year and bragged about it for months after. I hated missing out, so the minute they were booking their tickets, I decided I should see what all the fuss was about.

"There are two pools, several restaurants, bars, and so many event rooms," Ryan went on like he was working for the cruise. "My fave night is definitely going to be the pride party at sea night, and we can't forget the kink nights, but you don't have to attend those if you don't want."

I didn't know what I wanted, other than a nap, pain killers and a tall glass of ice water.

The one thing nobody warned me about was how much walking would be involved. I didn't mind, I was fairly fit through no effort, but this was supposed to be a vacation, and on a vacation, I expected to be doing as little as possible, unless it was fun, in which case, I was expected to maximize the experience.

It wasn't long until we boarded and an intense vertigo washed over me from the view of the sea far below. It all felt kinda surreal, like at any moment, the ship could spin and turn, and I'd be directly facing the water itself.

"Come on," Ryan said, snapping his fingers at me. "You can get seasick once we're settled in and you find out who you've been paired with."

"Don't you think it's a bit strange, being paired with someone I've never met?" I asked, trying not to succumb to the sudden bout of nausea and hangover headache.

"You signed up for it," he reminded me. "Besides, you could meet the man of your dreams." He offered in a sing-song voice. "And the man of your dreams will be a total Daddy and a total bottom. Trust me, the cruise has paired up so many of our friends, you are about to meet the man of yours."

I'd heard the stories of Ryan's other friends coming on these cruises with him and finding their boyfriends, fiancés, and future husbands. I was looking forward to that idea. I'd been single a long time, but that was an occupational hazard. I was always travelling for model gigs. I just got done with a six month stint in Japan, and they were continuously trying to set me up with their daughters and sisters. I didn't come out to any of them, it was safer that was for my work as a model. People wanted the fantasy, and the fantasy was all very hetero.

Of course, I knew that everyone part of this program the cruise line had rolled out were fully vetted and verified, and if there was nobody they could set you up with, you got the full cabin for only half the price. It was a win either way, I got a cabin to myself, or I was about to meet the love of my life.

The man of my dreams could be waiting behind the cabin door.

"Ok, so this is the reception deck," Ryan want on, excitedly. He'd been so excited to bring me on this thing, all the information went in through one ear and out the other. I didn't know the difference between port and starboard, or what all the different decks meant, some of them numbers, and some with names. He'd explained them to me, but I was never going to remember it. "Embarking is always the best part," he said. "Everyone is so full of energy, and the smell of poppers hasn't consumed the air yet."

One of the workers chuckled at the comment as we walked by them. I made eyes at him. He was hot. "I wonder what he's doing later," I mumbled, wheeling my case beside me.

Ryan swotted my arm. "No. Save that energy for your cabin mate."

Thom chuckled. "Don't worry," he said. "I'm sure you're used to his antics by now."

We stopped at the elevator and looked at the keycards. They were slotted inside paper slips with the itinerary and our room numbers on. "What deck are you on?" Ryan asked.

"Eight. Eight-one-three-six."

"That's your room number," Thom said. "We're on deck ten. Eleven twenty-eight."

"How do you keep these things on you?" I already had trouble remember to keep my phone, wallet, and housekey on me, never mind a little plastic card.

"I slip mine in a lanyard," Ryan said. "The seas change you as a person. I have a spare one."

He caught me snarling. "Around my neck? At all times? But that'll pull guys attention from the fun zone." My pec bounced, although not visibly from my shirt. "Next you'll have me wearing Crocs."

Another conversation we'd had earlier. Ryan and Thom were comfortably in a relationship, and with that comfort came the outward comfort of never sacrificing yourself for the pain is beauty. I had blisters on my ankles from my boots, but they looked great, and they had a little lift in them too.

With our carry-on luggage, we wheeled it into the elevator. We were one of the earlier boarders, and I hated Ryan for that. I wished we could've boarded later and given me a touch more time to get over this hangover. I was thankful that our actual suitcases were delivered to the rooms ahead of time, but that was were all my painkillers were stored, and I needed an aspirin bad.

"It feels weird," I said inside the elevator, looking at the mirrored surfaces all around. "We're on the water right now, but using this."

Sometimes, they might not have figured I was as well-traveled as I was, but sometimes, I had a thought and needed to let it out.

I got out on my floor, and was easily guided from little metallic wall plaques to my room. Anxiety spiked in me, another painful downside to having drank as much as I had last night. I was never a heavy drinker, but last night woke a beast in me that couldn't say no to shots in Spanish bars where the bartenders were downright too hot to handle.

There were two ways this could go. Either my roomie was in there, waiting for me, or I'd be in there waiting for him. I slotted the keycard into the door, it beeped, unlocked and I couldn't avoid the hangxiety any further.

I was first.

The cabin wasn't spacious. There were two single beds pushed against the wall with two bedside tables between them, and that space was currently occupied by two suitcases. One of them, I knew was mine, the other one had to belong to him. It was a plain, silver case. Boring. Mine was neon blue and covered in stickers, there was no chance I was ever going to lose that.

Swept with relief. I threw myself on the bed to the left, right across from the small dresser and chair. I'd seen the interior to the room before on a three-sixty view they offered on their website, but nothing could've prepared me for it. I was tall, and this was not tall friendly.

After a minute of laid on the bed, I picked myself up and took in the surroundings a little better. I suppose I could understand how these things would push two people together because the room itself was so small, and the only way to get more space was to push the two beds together.

There was a name tag on the bag. His name was Russell Scott. A perfectly ungooglable name, there were bound to be hundreds if not thousands of them. It wasn't worth the search, or the ordeal of connecting my phone to the onboard Wi-Fi just yet.

I threw my suitcase on my bed and opened it up to get my painkillers. I desperately needed something to take the edge off. On the chair, pushed under the vanity there was a case of water, ready for consumption. I nearly downed an entire bottle with my painkillers.

Russell Scott was supposed to be compatible with me. On the form, they asked for all types of details, includes top or bottom, and I was just hoping and praying this was going to be my type instead of one of those cock-hungry bottoms. That just wasn't for me.

I took my time to go through my suitcase, knowing it would be a couple of hours until this Russell boarded. I wanted to get my clothes in the closet, and hopefully from the time they spent on the hangers, some of the wrinkles in the shirts I'd brought would iron themselves out, and failing that, I knew there was a clothes steamer on board.

An hour later, and the door bleeped before opening.

It was him.

I peered out down the narrow aisle from the door to the bedroom. The bathroom was to the left on my perspective, an area I hadn't yet managed to get my toiletries in. So, he was early.

He had black hair with specks of grey at the side, dressed in a light blue button down, grey pants, and sported a golden tan. "Hey," he said, tugging on a stubborn smaller case over the threshold. "I'm Russell, I—"

"Tall," I mumbled. Fuck. He was tall. I didn't know how they'd found someone taller than me, but they had. Maybe they were miracle workers on board. And a bottom.

"Sorry?"

"Hi," I said, wiping my palms on my pants before greeting him. "I'm Griffin. I guess we're paired together."

"I guess so," he said. "Nice to meet you. Did you—" his tongue stuck between his teeth as he looked me over. "Did you book this ticket to meet someone, or because it was cheaper?"

And with that, maybe this wasn't a pairing made in heaven and just a very convenient booking. "Well, my friend, Ryan, he comes on these things all the time with his partner, so I figured I'd take him up on it, and you know, this came up. He advocates massively for these set-up things, so I—" I gulped hard on my drying out throat. I was panic talking. I never did that. I was known for confidence and being as cool as an iced glass of sangria.

He chuckled. "Similar story, actually," he said. "My friend on-board, Mick, he's constantly telling me to come on one of these to get laid." He rolled his eyes as he said it. "But I'm kinda just looking forward to getting more sun, reading a good book, and showing up to the parties long enough to be photo'd."

"Not big on parties then?"

"Sometimes, but I get a bit self-conscious about my age and being at parties with a bunch of guys half my age," he said.

I'd put my age all the way up to fifty, so he could've been on the money with that observation since I was twenty-five. But then, he had to have put my age down as well. "I'm twenty-five," I said, forcing that conversation.

"I'm forty-four," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "These things aren't that comfy, are they?"

"I guess they're hoping people are going to be too preoccupied getting their party on to think about the comfort of their bed," I said. "And for what it's worth, I don't think you look old."

He smiled at me. "Did you look through the itinerary?" he asked. "There's an event for people sharing rooms, like us, well, not an event, a date. In case you were hoping to meet someone."

I didn't want to come across eager, but it couldn't hurt, especially since his first words weren't, I recognize you from somewhere, and having to tell him I've been on fashion billboards globally. "I'm down to have fun on this trip, it's why we're here, right?"

"Then I guess we should push these beds together," he suggested.

I clicked my tongue, a tic, almost. "Jumping the gun a little there," I said. "We should get to know each other first."

Russell shrugged. "I figured you already know me, based on what we both put on our roommate requests," he said. "But I'm curious to see how much of that is true."

There was only one real way we'd know our compatibility. The one question that could turn on, or turn off this entire conversation. "Top or bottom?"