(Dylan)

  “G’day mate, didn’t hear you come in,” Quinten’s voice said. Dylan heard the tiredness between his words.

  He’d nodded off, and awoke to the very naked backside of Quinten, who stood a couple of feet in front of him as he toweled off his head and shoulders. There was a whole lot of Quinten ass staring back at him. He glanced away, feeling self-conscious. But the easygoing elf didn’t seem to mind. Neither would Dylan if he had a figure like that.

  “Shower’s free if you want,” Quinten said, still facing away from him. “Go on and hop in. Promise I won’t look.”

  Dylan heard the smile on his face as he spoke. Given the alternative was to sit and watch the naked, easygoing elf, he slipped into the shower stall, clothes and all.

  “Mate, not sure if you know how this works, but you’ve still got your clothes on. Trust me, works much better with ‘em off.”

  Dylan stripped in the shower, draping his soiled, stinking clothes over the top of the door. He turned on the water and set it to hot-as-fuck, steam curling around him instantly. He took the bar of soap and started scrubbing.

  After waiting a beat, Quinten went right for it. “Are you single?” he asked.

  Dylan stopped scrubbing, his hand frozen mid-swipe across his chest. He slowly turned to look at the shower door, its polished wooden surface collecting beads of water. “This about kinship?”

  “You know about kinship?” Quinten sounded surprised. “I thought this was your first time off Dirt.” He gave a casual shrug. “Just makes it easier I reckon, here’s the deal, I’ve got a cousin—”

  “Is she a princess?” Dylan interrupted. There were more than enough princesses in his life at the moment.

  “Nah, mate, just a regular gal.” Quinten chuckled. “Why? You a prince or something?” His voice grew mock-serious. “Oh no, don’t tell me you’re the King of Dirt?” He clicked his tongue. “Ah bollocks, I’ve gone and shown my hiney to another highness—”

  Dylan froze with one arm in the air and his other scrubbing under it. “Another?”

  “Listen mate, there’s only one washroom and we’ve all gotta share. It’s not my fault no one checks before they stroll on in,” Quinten said.

  “Eury?”

  “Yeah…”

  “Ouch.” Dylan resumed scrubbing the stench away.

  “Naw, girl’s a legend. Took it like a champ. Completely ignored me and just hopped in the shower—no muss, no fuss.”

  “Also, I’m not the king… or prince… or anything of Dirt—Earth! Goddamnit, now I’m saying it,” Dylan said.

  ‘Dylan of Earth, Dylan of Earth.’ He repeated in his head like a mantra, shaking the bar of soap with each repetition.

  “But you’ve still got a thing for princesses?” Quinten asked.

  “No, no, it’s—”

  “Can’t say I blame ya,” Quinten said, and there it was again, the smile in his voice. “There’s something about living on a knife’s edge, always skirting danger.”

  Dylan stopped scrubbing, the bar slick in his hand. “Danger?”

  He glanced back at the door. “What do you mean?”

  “A princess is just a girl like any other. Except her daddy is usually the king,” he said.

  Dylan sighed inwardly. “I never really thought about it that way.”

  “It’s Eury, right?” Quinten asked, now fully dry, leaning against the doorframe. “Can’t imagine you’ve met our other princess yet—”

  “Meekan?” Dylan asked.

  “So you have met our other princess.” Quinten raised a brow. “You sure don’t waste any time, mate.”

  “Yeah.” Dylan nodded. The memory of her flying tactical tackle-hug played in his mind. “Apparently I’m her best friend.”

  “Really?” Quinten chuckled again. “I thought she was best friends with Nathan, Dorian’s brother?”

  Dylan shrugged. “Her words, not mine.” He paused, concern about accidentally upsetting Nathan creeping into his thoughts. “You think he might be jealous?”

  “Naw, mate, she’s not his type. If you get my meaning.”

  “Oh,” Dylan said, unsure if the easygoing elf meant fox women or women in general. Sexuality and preferences got a lot more complicated when race meant more than skin color.

  “Yeah, anyway, unless you’re offering to carry me to bed, I should go and find it before I pass out.” He stifled a yawn. “Good luck with the whole princess thing. And uh, let me know if it doesn’t work out, yeah?” Quinten said and then stepped out of the washroom, letting the door close with a click behind him.

  Dylan had to admit, this was a whole different ‘hookup culture’ than they had back on Earth. Who needed dating apps when everyone acted like a babushka with a granddaughter they’d like you to meet?

  He rotated under the scalding hot water like a rotisserie chicken and began to understand the draconi’s penchant for long showers. When the hot water never ended, how was anyone expected to get out?

  The stream of water ended with a chirp as he shut the valve off. The last few drops escaped from the showerhead, plip-plopping onto the wet tiles at his feet.

  He opened the shower door a crack to peek out and verify he wasn’t about to flash any silent onlookers. When he was sure of his decency, he stepped out and grabbed a towel from the stack. Even a crash landing hadn’t dampened the crew’s hospitality routine. This was both the best and worst cruise of his life—though, technically, it was also the only cruise he’d ever been on.

  Another crucial decision had to be made: put on his soiled clothes or just wear a towel. The thought of squeezing back into the damp, stinking garments made his skin crawl, so he opted for the latter. Eury’s laundry should’ve been done by now, so he went to check if the deathwash machine was free for a load of his own.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  As usual, she’d forgotten all about her clothes sitting in the machine. But between going down into the gashole and almost dying, she’d had a pretty rough day. So, instead of bothering her, he simply swapped out her clothes for his. After making an offering to the deathwash god, it tossed his clothes happily as he gathered up Eury’s clean laundry and walked it to her cabin. The entire ship was suspiciously void of empty baskets.

  Dylan had to lean in awkwardly to reach the door without dropping Eury’s laundry. He rapped twice on the door and waited for a response.

  “Who is it?” Eury asked from behind her cabin door.

  “Room service,” he replied. At first, he thought he was clever with his little joke. Then he remembered his current attire: a loosely secured towel, and nothing more. His face burned as he noticed a pair of her panties sitting on the very top of the pile, just under his chin, amplifying his self-consciousness to eleven.

  ‘How’d you get there?’ he wondered, squinting at the laced undergarment. But it was too late to do anything. All he could do now was close his eyes and sigh as the door swung open.

  “Dylan?” Eury wore a quizzical expression until she recognized her underwear on top of the pile. “Why do you have my clothes?”

  “They were in the deathwash machine…”

  Eury dropped her head, sighing. “Sorry.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I did it again, didn’t I?” Embarrassed, she didn’t look up as she leaned in to take her laundry from him.

  “Stop!” Dylan cried out.

  Her eyes shot open, less than a foot from his, as she froze, staring into his eyes with only a bundle of clothes between them. They shared breaths in the cramped space. He smelled spearmint, just like before, as Eury looked to her right, left, and then back at him.

  “What’s the matter?” she whispered in a conspiratorial tone. To her credit, she hadn’t moved.

  Dylan also hadn’t moved, frozen in place and unable to see past her clothes or the green laced panties to assess how far his precariously wrapped towel had been undone.

  “You’ve, uh… got my towel,” he said, wide-eyed.

  They’d gotten tangled up in a Chinese finger trap of his own doing, both of them stuck together by a pile of laundry. There wasn’t any way for him to check, and he sure wasn’t about to ask her to look. But all wasn’t lost; his backside didn’t feel any cooler than before.

  “What?” she asked. Dylan watched as realization dawned on her face. “Oh…” Her own eyes grew wide. Oh!” She turned her head and leaned to her side, checking to see what she’d done.

  “Eyes up here, princess!” he snapped.

  She caught herself, looked up at him again. “Sorry. I was just trying—maybe if I…”

  He felt her fingers fumbling far too close to his waistline, and her attempt to fix things backfired. Now his backside felt alarmingly exposed. Panicking, he got stuck repeating the obvious.

  “The towel is down! The towel is down!” he said urgently. His panic was contagious, filling the hallway with frantic energy.

  Worry spread across her face. “What do I do?” she asked, looking to him for instruction.

  There were several ways this could’ve been resolved, but Dylan’s brain only saw two at that moment: be naked in the open hallway or be naked in a confined cabin. His heart pounded as he weighed the equally mortifying options. He just needed to ask one quick question before deciding.

  “Do you trust me?” he asked, his eyes searching hers.

  “Yes,” she said without hesitation.

  Eury yelped as Dylan rushed forward, hugging her closely as he hustled her and her laundry into the cabin. With a slam, he kicked the door shut behind them.

  Now mere inches from his face, she asked, “What now?”

  “Uh,” he said, stalling. That was a damn good question, one that Past Dylan had left for Future Dylan. “Close your eyes and turn around, and then I’ll put my towel back on.”

  “Alright,” she said, continuing to gaze into his eyes. He waited for her to close hers, while she waited for him to say when. The awkwardness mounted as they continued their accidental game of chicken.

  She tilted her head slightly. “Now?”

  He nodded. “Now works for me.”

  Eury closed her eyes and turned around as he asked. However, they’d been very close together, and she’d spun around quickly, brushing the rest of her clothes, including his towel, aside. Completely naked and far too close to Eury, he leaped backwards, slamming into the closed cabin door with a loud thud.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, her head tilting slightly as she started to turn toward him.

  “Still naked!” he warned, holding out one arm towards her and covering himself with the other.

  She halted mid-turn, stiffening as she returned to her previous stance and faced the wall directly in front of her, her arms pressed firmly to her sides with too much energy and nothing to do.

  “It’s just really cramped in here,” he said. The walls seemed closer than he remembered, the heat from the jungle day still clinging to the air. Apparently, all of their cabins were as small as his, he just hadn’t noticed before.

  He bent down to sort through the pile of clothes that fell on top of his towel. The cramped space made every movement feel like a balancing act, and he was standing on top of his towel. Reaching out to steady himself against what should’ve been his hammock, he lifted his foot and grabbed the towel. The only problem was, he wasn’t in his cabin, and that wasn’t where her hammock was.

  “What are you doing?” Eury asked without turning around.

  Dylan looked up, his stomach dropping as he realized his hand was firmly against her ass.

  “Shit, sorry!” he said, yanking his hand off her butt. He scrambled upright, wrapping the towel around his waist in a hurried motion and tucking the corner in tightly.

  “All set,” he said.

  Eury turned to face him and said, “Thank you for…” Her eyes drifted down to her clean laundry sprawled across the floor.

  “You’re welcome, sorry about the whole…” He gestured down at the floor and then toward her rear.

  “Please don’t, it’s… fine,” she said, staring at the floor and being really cool about the accidental butt touching. She looked back up at him, hesitating before she asked, “Was there… anything else?”

  He’d just made a complete ass of himself and wanted nothing more than to run away and become a hermit in the jungle. He hoped to God there wasn’t anything else.

  “Nope. I should probably…” He hooked his thumb to the door behind him.

  “Alright.”

  “Yeah, I’m just gonna go now,” he said.

  They shared an awkward smile as he opened the door and stepped through it. The soft click of the latch followed him as he closed it behind him and let out his held breath. He leaned his back up against the door, closing his eyes as he sighed.

  “That was quick,” W’itney said as they crunched on a treat. They leaned against their own open cabin doorway, just across the hall from Eury’s, as they flicked another golden nugget into the air before catching it with a snap of their teeth.

  Dylan opened his mouth. “This…” he said, pointing to himself and then to the door behind him. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

  “Uh-huh,” they said, glancing down at his towel.

  “Nothing happened, W’itney.” Self-conscious, he adjusted his towel under their gaze.

  W’itney gave him a knowing wink and said, “Listen, I get it. She’s a pretty princess, and you’re charming in ways that make a person ache and break in all the right places.”

  He narrowed his eyes at the outgoing draconi and frowned. “I feel like you’re not listening to what I’m saying.” He kept his hand on his towel.

  “I must have been imagining it when you pushed your way into her cabin and slammed the door shut while making a ruckus.” W’itney gave him a casual shrug as they grinned at him.

  ‘Fuck,’ he thought, replaying the last five minutes in his mind. From an outside perspective, it looked pretty bad. His guts twisted as he worried how this might impact Eury with the whole Kinship thing. He wasn’t even sure if elves had one-night stands—it certainly didn’t sound like it.

  “Goddamnit W’itney.”

  “I’m curious,” they said, pushing off the doorframe. “What did she do to change your mind about that kiss?”

  They were getting on his nerves. His jaw tightened as he tried to keep his temper in check. He didn’t care if they wanted to tease him, but they should leave Eury out of it.

  “I was raised not to hit a lady, but so help me God, I will slap the shit out of a dragon,” he said, intent in his eyes.

  “Promises, promises…” W’itney replied with another grin, flicking a treat into the air and catching it effortlessly.

  He raised his upper lip in disgust. “Aw man, now you went and made it dirty.” Everything was just innuendo to W’itney.

  “Good night, Dylan,” they said, stepping back into their room and lowering their voice to a whisper. “Honestly, I’m rooting for you two.” The door clicked shut before he could respond.

  He let out a deep sigh, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the day’s events. Taking a different kind of walk of shame back to his room, he hung his head. And then, before anything else could happen, he put on some pants.