A Royal Christmas Cruise: Stonewall Investigations Miami Page 2

  Meanwhile, I stood there with my ass practically showing.

  “Mom.”

  “Are you… okay?” She started toward me, heels clicking again.

  “Yes, yes. All good. I’m going to go shower.”

  She squinted her eyes. Suspicion had been her middle name ever since I was a child testing the boundaries. She suspected everything I did and always assumed there was a second story lying just underneath the first.

  She was right about today, so I’d give her that.

  “Aren’t you leaving on your trip today?”

  “Tomorrow, actually.” I started the trek back to my bedroom, not realizing just how much ground Cristella covered with her run.

  “Ah, bueno. I’ll be asking you to meet with some people while you’re overseas. Some light diplomatic things. It won’t interfere on your and Cristella’s vacation, I promise.”

  I ground my teeth. Aside from suspicion, my mother was also fond of surprises. She enjoyed springing things on people at the very last second, and I was now feeling the effects of that.

  Fine. If she was going to deal a surprise, then so would I.

  “Cristella and I broke up.”

  A tiny gasp sounded from behind me. I stopped at my bedroom door, a snow-dusted wreath hanging on the center of it.

  “But… but… que?”

  For once in her life, it seemed like the queen was at a loss for words.

  “It wasn’t working out. I’m sorry, Mom. I’m done with living for other people. I’m a prince, not a puppet. I gave it an honest shot and realized I wasn’t happy. Done.”

  She looked dumbfounded. And then the sound of more footsteps coming from the opposite end of the hall drifted toward us. My mother clicked back into queen mode, straightening her shoulders and adopting a neutral expression before looking over my shoulder and offering a smile.

  “Ah, buenos días, Luna.”

  If I could breathe a sigh of relief without being obvious, I sure as hell would have.

  I turned, smiling and offering a wave.

  Luna Rodríguez walked toward us, glancing at me with a mixture of concern and amusement. She was the head of my security team and had watched my back since I could remember ever being worried about it. Behind her bounced Eli, my golden retriever and most trusted confidant. His tongue lolled out as he came over, crashing into my legs, rubbing his big head against my thighs. I pet him, scratching underneath his ears.

  “Is everything okay?” my mom asked.

  “Sí,” Luna answered. “Just came to ask some questions about the trip to America.”

  “Yeah, about that.” I crouched down so that Eli could land some kisses on my cheek. “It’s canceled.”

  “Oh?” Luna looked down in surprise. “So where are you and Cristella going to go?”

  “Also canceled.”

  Her face snapped back up. She looked to my mother, who shot her a look before saying, “I have to go greet the duchess. Please, Luna, talk some sense into this stubborn prince of mine.”

  She kissed Luna’s cheeks and then the top of my head before she whisked down the hall, heels clicking against the floor. I waited until she disappeared before saying, “I need to get out of here, Luna. I really need to go.”

  “Did something happen?” She had her hands in her black slacks, her expression worried.

  “I’m finally doing something for myself,” I said, standing back up. Eli sat down at my feet, looking like the happiest dog in the world. “So if you have any suggestions on where I could run away to, I’d love to know.”

  “Well…” Luna said, thinking as I started to walk down the hall and back to my room. Luna and Eli followed. “Since I’m thinking about your America trip, my parents take a yearly holiday cruise from Miami. They spend something like sixteen days in the Caribbean, and they absolutely love it. When they come back, they look like new people. My mom comes back with a boatload of glamor shots and my dad’s bald head comes back with a sunburn.”

  “Perfect,” I said. Being on a cruise ship where I’d know there weren’t paparazzi hiding in every bush or tree I walked past sounded like paradise. Add the fact that I doubted I would be recognized by a crowd of vacationing Americans. They had fascinations with royal families that only seemed to extend to England’s. Meanwhile, I couldn’t walk through most any street in Europe without getting recognized.

  A spontaneous breakup and a Caribbean Christmas cruise… I wonder what other surprises this holiday’s got in store for me.

  2 Shiro Brooks

  I rolled my suitcase up the smooth concrete ramp, the sun shining into my eyes as I looked up to try and admire the cruise ship. I flicked down my sunglasses, instantly feeling some relief.

  The ship towered above us in all its seventeen-deck glory. It was a modern marvel of science and the newest cruise ship to be sailing anywhere in the world. The paint job was a modern work of art, with bold red and blue lines that cut across the side of the ship, underneath the rows and rows of glass windows and balconies that made it almost seem as if the ship were a floating Apple Store.

  A line started to form and curl in front of me as people were shuffled through the security checkpoint, leading into a large waiting area since it was still too early to board the ship. I looked around, knowing I wouldn’t see any of my friends yet, but still hoping I’d catch a familiar smile.

  We haven’t all been together in years.

  I was excited about this cruise, even if the past few weeks had been one hell of a ride getting here.

  No dwelling on the bullshit, though. This trip was about reuniting with old friends during the one season absolutely made for reunions. Which worked especially well since the cruise was advertised as a holiday wonderland. The entire ship was said to have been transformed for the holidays, from a giant stuffed polar bear wearing sunglasses by the pool to a snow pit where you could go and make snow angels after drinking a margarita. There were holiday-themed shows and dance clubs, along with a crazy sweater party and a sexy Santa dance-off. Apparently, there was even a “blizzard” foam party planned.

  Needless to say, I had signed up real quick when I saw the ad. Thankfully my friends were all on board for the trip, too. Ever since we scattered across the globe after graduating college, it had been hard to all be in the same spot, but these next three weeks were about to fix all that.

  I inched forward in line. My shoulders, tense all this past week, were finally relaxed. I took in a deep breath of the ocean air. Miami never got cold, but today was a little on the chillier side. At seventy-one, native Miamians were pulling out their scarves and mittens.

  A commotion from behind me drew my attention. I leaned out of the line and glanced at the source of two loud, overly excited voices.

  “That’s him, that’s him, that’s totally him,” one of the girls was saying, almost shouting. She had a death grip on her friend’s elbow, which I could see was beginning to lose color.

  “Is it?” the one in danger of losing her arm asked.

  One of the boys they were with just shouts, “Are you that Avenger guy?”.

  The girl with the loose ponytail shook her head, her cheeks turning a bright cherry red. “Not from Avengers. The brother. Liam. You’re Liam Hemsworth?”

  I looked to see who they were talking to and spot someone who had to have been a celebrity, and if they weren’t, then they were working in the wrong field.

  The man wore a simple, all-black outfit, with clean white sneakers and a watch with a worn leather band. He had a black hat on his head, the lip of it brought down so that the top half of his face was concealed in shadow.

  The lower half, though. Duh-damn. That was more than enough for me. He had a little bit of well-taken-care-of scruff, trimmed to the skin at his Adam’s apple and down. His lips were drawn into an entertained smirk, slanting in the same way his jawline did.

  “No,” I heard him say. “I’m no one.”

  The dad of the two girls picked up on the situation. He apolog
ized and brought the girls back to their spot in line, which they had apparently jumped to try and get a better look at the mystery “no one.” I didn’t blame them either.

  “Excuse me, sir, the line’s moving.”

  “Oh shoot, sorry,” I said, turning and realizing I had been standing still while a good four-foot gap formed in the line as people shuffled forward. I made sure not to slip on the drool that had pooled at my feet.

  Clearly, I was a little boy-crazy, which I shouldn’t be considering that the guy I’d been dating for the past year broke up with me because he saw a documentary on a religion dedicated to the Rolling Stones and decided to go join it. When I said “abso-fucking-lutely not” to joining when he asked, he said he understood but that we wouldn’t be able to stay together. I had thought it was an elaborate prank for a good half hour, until I realized he was being fully serious.

  “Can you even name one Rolling Stones song?” I remembered asking him.

  He rattled off a couple titles, none of them sounding familiar to me, which wasn’t a surprise seeing as how I for sure wouldn’t be able to name a single Rolling Stones song.

  The security checkpoint cleared up ahead. I went through, letting them check my suitcase and scan me with those metal wands. The security officer—Lionel, read the tag, with a tiny mistletoe over his name—asked me to turn around. I faced the rest of the line, my gaze instantly finding that mysterious man with the sexy jaw and the cap, which was now flipped so that I could see the rest of his face.

  Holy crapola, this man was everything. I wasn’t sure what I liked better, the top half of his face or the previously introduced bottom half?

  Then again, why not have both?

  His eyes—wow, they were multidimensional, like two little blue-and-gray galaxies held inside the most perfectly sculpted face. He had a strong brow and thick eyebrows that added a frame to a picture I could stare at all day and night.

  Especially night.

  Lionel waved the wand over my shoulder and down my back before he ran it over the front of my chest and then down over my shorts.

  A loud beeping sounded. Directly above my penis.

  “Oh, that’s, um, weird.”

  Lionel tried again. More beeping as he held the wand right on top of my crotch. I could see people in line beginning to look in my direction, but thankfully, the handsome man straight out of my dreams (and most likely my league) had his attention held by something on his phone. I guessed that I had approximately fifteen seconds before he looked up and saw me getting dragged away for a weaponized penis.

  “It’s nothing,” I said, turning to Lionel. “The zipper maybe?”

  “Do you have any piercings?”

  “Oh no, just the thought of that is making me contract into my own body.” I pursed my lips. “Which is probably too much information.”

  “We have an area to the left where another agent can check you.” Lionel motioned to what appeared to be a makeshift changeroom, ignoring my mention of an inverting dick. It was a circular area concealed by a wrinkled blue sheet. I wanted to roll my eyes and assure Lionel I had nothing between my legs that needed to be checked, at least not by security. But, on the same token, he was just doing his job and making sure every passenger stayed safe. I turned and walked to another security officer, who led me into the changing room.

  “I think my zipper triggered it.”

  The officer, a muscular guy with an impressive forearm tattoo of a roaring lion, offered me a surprisingly apologetic smile. “The sensor’s been a little sensitive. I’m just going to ask you to take your shorts and shirt off for a quick search, and then you can board.”

  I glanced around at the flimsy blue curtain. If I looked hard enough, I could make out faces through small holes that dotted the fabric. I felt my cheeks turn a fiery red. Not because I had to have a surprise strip search, but because that handsome god of a man was standing feet away from me as I began to undress. It was an odd place for my brain to go, but I couldn’t help it as I started to wonder if he could see me, if he could see the shape of me through the shadows on the curtain. I took off my shirt and went for my shorts next, not remembering what underwear I had put on but knowing that it at least wasn’t one of my jockstraps.

  I unzipped my shorts and took them off. My briefs were bright yellow with cartoon bananas playfully placed around them, the band around my hips was jet black. I faced the officer and tried not to think about the fact that my briefs looked a little more full than they normally did.

  Handsome Cap Man is doing things to me without even being near me.

  The officer used the wand again, quickly swiping it up and down, the machine staying quiet this time. He then personally checked my shorts, flipping the pockets inside out. When he was done, he handed back my shorts and turned around so I could change.

  “Is that it?” I asked.

  “Yup, that’s it. Thanks for cooperating.”

  I nodded and “mhmmed” as I lifted a leg to put my shorts back on.

  That’s when things went from “fine” to “what in the actual fuck is my life” all in about fifteen seconds flat.

  As I was lifting my leg, I lost my balance. Normally, I’m not a clumsy guy. I competed in gymnastics all throughout high school and college, even making it up to the Olympic qualifiers before I took a terrible fall off the pommel horse and had to take two years off to recover. Since then, I never got back into gymnastics, instead finding a new passion in parkour, joining a team who’d practice inside of one of their home gyms before we went out to the streets.

  This meant that I could stick a landing, but only when that landing wasn’t concealed by a flimsy blue curtain. I snatched for it, hearing a loud tear as the fabric fell with me. I rolled up in the thing like a blue burrito, cushioning my fall and potentially sparing me from a broken rib or two.

  “Whoa!” The security officer who had searched me somehow managed to get wrapped up in my mess. I looked up, feeling my cheeks heat as I tried to swim out of the tangled-up cloth, only realizing once I was free that I was also near naked. I stood there, the entire line watching me with dropped jaws, wearing only my goddamn banana briefs. Nothing simple and elegant and worthy of an impromptu underwear modeling session. Instead, it was a bold and graphic print that drew everyone’s attention.

  I locked eyes with the handsome stranger and almost self-combusted. I wasn’t exactly shy of my body and didn’t mind showing it off now and then, but the stranger’s gaze did something to me. Turned me into a meek little kid, standing there exposed, as if on stage and under a spotlight. Literally a worst-nightmare kind of situation.

  And then the stranger smiled. His lips tilted into a smirk, his eyes still covered by the hat. It was a smile that pushed away my shame. Replaced it with something else, something fiery and sudden and potent. A smile that made the entire rest of the gawking crowd disappear, as if they were all part of an elaborate magic trick.

  The meek child disappeared, too, taken over by a powerful need that stemmed deep in my gut.

  “Here, let’s, uh, head to the bathroom.” The officer, whose cheeks were as red as mine felt, walked over to me and handed me my shorts, which I quickly tugged on before grabbing my shirt and socks and heading to the bathroom, my head held high even though my back felt like flames were licking up my spine. I could almost pinpoint where on my body the stranger’s eyes had landed, and where they were pinned to now.

  In the bathroom, I finished getting dressed. The fluorescent light lit up my face as I looked in the mirror, shaking my head with a smile, wondering what the hell this Christmas cruise had in store for me.

  3 Nicholas Silva

  Over the many years of growing up and having an assortment of eyes trained on you at all times, I had developed a keen sense of knowing when someone was looking at me. Sometimes it came in handy and helped me avoid unwanted snaps of me from leaking; other times it kept me feeling like a paranoid mess that couldn’t just relax in the moment. I understood that I stuck
out from the crowd, regardless of what country I was in. I stood at a tall six foot four inches, and I had a presence that could turn heads whenever I walked into a room, so it wasn’t like having eyes on me was a rare occasion.

  As I stood in line waiting to board the cruise ship, I had felt many different eyes graze over me. I scoped out the crowd and didn’t find many that I’d want to chat with, except for the one guy who had been quite bold in his staring. I noticed it when the girls called me out for thinking I was a celebrity, which did get me slightly nervous, but I knew that judging by their age alone they most likely had no idea who Spain’s prime minister was, much less who was in their royal family.

  I let my thoughts drift, focusing in on the handsome man and his bold stare, wondering if this cruise would be the perfect opportunity to stretch my closeted wings and experience what I’d been wanting to for years now.

  The way my dick twitched at the thought only confirmed it for me.

  A muffled shout drew my attention. The half-naked and perfect-bodied man held it.

  It was him. The man who had been throwing looks at me. He stood there after breaking free from his blue prison, looking stunned in the same way I felt.

  Except, unlike him, I was stunned because of how fucking perfect this man was. He was no longer concealed by the line of people ahead of me (or his clothes, for that matter), and the way he stood really didn’t leave much to the imagination, especially since his briefs were extremely well fitting.

  I’d never been with another guy before, but that didn’t stop me from drooling over this one. He was everything I would jerk off to in secret, the guys I’d click on and watch as they played with themselves and one another. He had a chest I wanted to grab and bite, and a tight stomach that showed a six-pack I wanted to run my hands over, with a hint of a treasure trail that looked perfect for tracing with my tongue.