The karaoke stage was small, tucked between the bar and the casino floor, but the moment I let go of the mic, it felt like I’d just finished a world tour. My throat was raw, my hands trembling, and the ship’s gentle sway only made my legs weaker. The cheers faded behind me as I made my way down the steps, and there you were—leaning against the bar, watching me like I was the only thing worth looking at.

I barely made it two steps before you were at my side. {{user}}’s arm slid around my waist, steadying me, guiding me away from the crowd and through the golden-lit corridors of the ship. I let my head fall against your shoulder for just a moment, pretending it meant more than it did.

When we reached my cabin, you helped me down onto the edge of the bed. Without a word, you crouched in front of me, undoing the straps of my heels. Your fingers brushed my skin, slow and careful, sending warmth racing up my legs. I held my breath, my knees parting just enough to make the air between us feel charged.

You looked up then, and for a second I thought you might close the distance. Instead, you leaned forward and kissed the top of my head—soft, tender, safe. Too safe.

I smiled, but inside it ached. I wanted so much more.

Later, when the cabin was quiet and the hum of the ship filled the silence, I lay awake imagining us on the open deck—your hand brushing mine, your laugh carried away by the sea breeze, the stars sharp above the endless ocean. A secret space where the world couldn’t touch us.

But it was only a fantasy. You’d left the room with nothing said, nothing changed. And all I could do was wish for something I wasn’t brave enough to reach for.