Page 7

Sam was hungover when the evening and his agreed meet-up with Eric rolled around. When he’d woken up on his boat that morning, his head had ached like crazy, and he’d wanted nothing more than to roll over, pull his blanket over his head and go back to sleep. Unfortunately, he really couldn’t miss class with midterm essays and assignments due soon, so he’d forced himself up, despaired at the sound of the rumbling engine as he motored back to the pier, and drove himself into college for a gruelling day of bright lights and piercing voices.

Sam sipped his MiWadi and hoped that his stomach would behave itself for dinner. Sally’s bar was half full, only one or two visitors mingling with the locals, and Sam was at one of the tables against the window of the bar. He fought the urge to bend over and cradle his head in front of everyone.

Conflicted feelings stirred as Ivan and Eric entered the pub. If yesterday was any indication, then leaving him and Eric alone together was a sure recipe for awkwardness, but he’d gotten on even worse with Ivan. Sam had debated texting Eric and cancelling the entire meet-up all day, but the image of the ‘Eric’ cup had rooted itself in Sam’s brain and refused to leave. As for Ivan…his entreaty had burrowed into Sam’s conscience. Please don’t treat Eric badly . Clearly, he cared about Eric, so Sam would give him another chance. Provided they didn’t start talking about his dad the way they had yesterday.

Sam lifted his hand to catch their attention, and the two men approached. Both wore shirts that exposed their arms, and Sam’s gaze was drawn to their tattoos. The blank geometric patterns decorating Ivan’s biceps were pleasing to the eye.

Ivan flexed his arms and grinned when Sam’s gaze flicked up, catching his. “If you’re interested in a tattoo, you can swing by my shop.” He sat on the stool nearest Sam. “Eric and I live in the city, so it’s a bit of a drive, but you can always crash at our place. Make a night of it.”

Eric slid onto the stool on the far side of Ivan, his body overly controlled, his movements mechanical.

Not a hint of their conflict yesterday was present in Ivan. Sam’s headache meant he had to remind himself of his resolution to try again three more times before he accepted that meant actually giving them another chance. He didn’t want to sabotage any chance of a positive relationship by getting thick with them.

“I do like them,” Sam agreed. “Did the same person design them?”

“I did, and he drew it for me.” Ivan jutted his chin at Eric. “Hasn’t a spec of talent for drawing anything new, but he’s an absolute whiz at putting designs onto skin.” He cast Eric a reassuring smile, and when their eyes met, the tension in Eric’s body seemed to ease away.

Laurence popped up at the edge of the table, holding a glass. His dirty-blond hair had grown out since Sam had seen him last, unkempt strands at the front long enough to cover his eyebrows. “Sally wants to know are you driving?” he asked Sam.

“I walked over from my boat.” Sam had been doing homework in the cabin to kill time before meeting Eric. “Does she need someone to run to the shop? I’m not parked far; I can go get something.” He glanced at the bar where Sally was talking to Marty, the local who ran the bookstore. Her hair was cut into a harsh bob, and even from his spot across the room, he could see a glint in her eye and menace in her smile. Sam noticed she often had that look when talking to Marty.

Laurence placed the drink in his hand in front of Sam. “Rum and coke, Sally said it’s on her.” His dark-brown eyes darted to Eric. To Sam. To Eric. To Sam. “You have a brother?” For some reason, Laurence sounded thrilled at the prospect.

“This is Eric.”

Laurence’s eyes shone as he cast a winning smile at Eric. “I love your tattoos,” he said. “I’m Laurence, Connor’s brother.”

“Nice to meet you,” Eric said.

Laurence’s attention darted back to Sam. “Did Connor tell you about tonight yet?”

“I haven’t seen him. What’s tonight?” Had he texted? Sam hadn’t checked his phone in a few hours. Connor didn’t usually text. Typically, he just showed up on his boat and either invited Sam to hang out or jumped into the water and swam over to Sam’s boat.

“We’re having drinks on the boat since he’s back. Can you come?”

Sam had planned to pull the pots and get them into a better spot later. And his stomach wasn’t fit for drinks, nor was he too sure if his head was fit for company. “I might be busy.”

Laurence blinked. Blinked. “So you’ll meet us out there?” His voice was total innocence, but Sam had seen him pull this with Connor dozens of times over the past few months. The innocent ‘ So you won’t go surfing with me?’ combined with a sad look always had Connor crumbling in seconds, usually to Adonis’s vocal dismay and Trevor’s laughter.

Sam raised an eyebrow, and Laurence’s sad look was cracked by a grin. “Are you going to be on the water later?” he asked.

In all likelihood, if Connor went drinking on the boat with everyone and Sam was on the water, he’d come driving by just to annoy him. Adonis had an uncanny ability to find Sam no matter where he was out at sea. Which Laurence knew.

“I’ll be out.”

Laurence’s grin became a smile. “See you out there then.” Laurence bounced away, leaving behind two menus in front of Ivan and Eric that Sam hadn’t noticed him carrying.

“Very friendly staff here,” Ivan said in an amused tone.

“That’s just Laurence,” Sam said. Laurence wasn’t always a maximum output extrovert, and Sam had noticed he even tended toward shyness in front of people he didn’t know, but ever since Sam had spoken up on Connor’s behalf, Laurence had treated Sam as if they were best friends.

“What do you study in college?” Eric asked. “I never got the chance to ask the other day. Mary mentioned general education?”

“Sam,” a deep voice spoke before he could, the pleasant timbre friendly and soothing. “How are classes going?” Trevor placed his hand on Sam’s shoulder, squeezing fondly. His smile was warm. Trevor’s eyes were a dark chocolate-brown, but even with that, they were still several shades lighter than Laurence’s, whose eyes looked black when the lighting wasn’t good.

“Good,” Sam answered. “Working on my midterms at the moment.”

“Nick is the same. Laurence pestered him all week to come home for tonight. Will you be able to join us?” Trevor asked.

“Maybe later.”

“You’ll meet us out there?” Trevor nodded.

Apparently, Sam’s attendance wasn’t up to him.

“I’ll talk to you in a minute. I think Laurence is telling off those tourists. Just a second.” Trevor squeezed Sam’s shoulder – the man had this uncanny ability to always know exactly how much pressure to use for it to be comforting – and then strode out the back door. Sam twisted his head to see Laurence did seem to be getting into it with a pair of tourists. They were gesturing to the boat coming in to park against the wharf, and Laurence was squaring off like he was going to fight them. Trevor approached, hands raised in a supplicating manner.

“So,” Ivan prompted, “college?”

Sam watched the scene out the window. “Yeah. College. I—”

“Sam,” a voice interrupted.

Sam heard Ivan’s muttered, “ Jesus .”

“Nick, hey.” Sam turned to him as he stopped at their table. Nick’s gaze was fixed out the window. “What’s that about?”

“I think Laurence started fighting with them because they complained about the boat.”

“Figures. You joining us later?”

“Maybe,” Sam said.

“You’d better. I need someone sane out there with me.”

“You’ll have Trevor.”

“The more sanity, the better,” Nick remarked. “I’m going to see if they need help.”

Nick strode away, leaving the three of them in silence. Sam half expected someone to butt in, putting a stop to even half a sentence of conversation between them all.

“You’re a popular guy,” Ivan finally said with an amused look.

“What? No. They’re actually all Connor’s family,” Sam explained.

“I have no idea who Connor is,” Eric said.

“He’s…” Sam paused. Explaining Connor to someone who didn’t already know him was a difficult task. Sam didn’t want to say ‘ You do know him. He’s the kid that was all over the news last year because he was framed for a crime he didn’t commit and his dad abducted and almost killed him.’ He also didn’t want to say ‘ He’s this force of nature that I dated when I was sixteen, and he crushed my heart into pulp .’ “He’s a friend. His family are all fond of me, I guess.”

When Sam had talked to those reporters about Connor, it had seemed like something tiny. In fact, when he’d done it, he was sure he was going to have Connor kicking down his door, furious with him since he’d explicitly told Sam in his razor-sharp voice to mind his own business. Sam had been in the midst of a very frustrating day when he did it. He’d copied down the wrong address for his college application but had realised too late and had already sent it off. He’d had to rewrite it all again. And in the middle of the kitchen, rewriting the application, the local radio station had started talking about Connor. Already worked up, his anger with Connor’s refusal to help himself had overridden the voice inside telling him to respect Connor’s wishes, and he’d called up those reporters, talked and given them pictures, and then made sure they had the numbers of all those gossips from school that would love to talk all about Connor’s sexual orientation.

His impulsiveness had resulted in seemingly unending fondness from Trevor and Laurence, and though it was difficult to tell whether Nick was fond of someone or not, he always stopped and talked to Sam whenever they crossed paths. And he’d stepped in to help him yesterday too.

“Mary mentioned a Connor,” Eric said.

Sam groaned. “Do not listen to anything she said about him.”

“Hey.” This time, the interrupting voice was smooth. Pleasant. Connor pulled up a chair and sat next to Sam, running a hand through his black windswept curls as the other arm planted on the back of Sam’s chair. “Laurence said you’re getting tattoos together.”

Sam snorted. “He didn’t say that.”

Connor’s cool grey eyes flicked over Ivan but lingered on Eric. He tilted his head, but even at the best of times, Connor’s expression was hard to read.

“This is—” Sam started.

“I remember your brother,” Connor said. His grey eyes swept back to Sam. “Used to see him at the docks with your dad all the time.”

How come Connor remembered him when Sam didn’t?

“I’m guessing you’re Connor?” Eric asked. Ivan, unlike Eric, looked at Connor with clear recognition.

“Yeah. You back in town? Opening a parlour? If you tattoo Laurence, I’ll sink your boat.”

“Connor,” Sam said, exasperated by the casual threat, “it’s my boat now.”

“So what?”

“Where’s Adonis?” Sam asked, wanting something to distract Connor. The full force of his undivided attention could be a lot, and Adonis made it his business to make sure at least half of that attention was on him at all times.

“Chasing off Worm One and Two.”

Sam frowned. “Who are they?”

“Goldilocks’s admirers.” Connor’s lips twitched up at the corners. “It drives him nuts that they always come to greet us. Is he still stalking you?”

By admirers, he must mean Bee and Dew. They used to follow Devil around all the time, but they quickly got bored with him sitting still for Sam to paint and draw, so Sam rarely saw them by the boat anymore.

If Ivan and Eric weren’t there, Sam would have been more than happy to discuss Devil. Or as Connor had dubbed him months ago – Goldilocks. “He keeps me company,” Sam answered vaguely.

“By the way” – Connor leaned toward Sam, weight shifting to the arm on the back of Sam’s chair – “can I have your ID?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, reflexively agreeing as Connor’s body heat sunk into his side. But he saw the strange look both Ivan and Eric gave him and swallowed. “Why, though? And what ID?”

“I want to get into your college library. Nick won’t lend me his.”

“You know you can buy a library card for yourself? It only costs fifty euros.” Sam would feel that charge, but Connor wouldn’t.

“I know, but they have a limit of checking out only two books. Students can check out twenty.”

“As long as you don’t max me out, it’s fine,” Sam said. “Or you can look up the online catalogue, and I’ll pick up what you want while I’m there, save you the trip. Just tex – call and tell me, I’ll get them.” Sam would have an easier time just remembering the books than reading a long text message.

“I’m Ivan,” Ivan introduced himself, and Sam glanced over, realising he’d been leaning in, every spec of his attention on Connor. He winced, adjusting himself so that he was facing them instead. Ignoring them was bad form since this was supposed to be a catch-up with his brother.

Connor didn’t pull away from Sam; the only part of him to move was his eyes as they flicked towards Ivan. “You can’t tattoo Laurence either,” he said.

Sam snorted down a laugh. “Come on.” He nudged him.

“I could tattoo you , if you liked,” Ivan smiled, friendly. He leaned forward and rested his arms on the table.

“I don’t like needles. And I’m serious, do not tattoo Laurence.”

“ Connor .”

“It’s the first thing he said to me when I got off the boat,” Connor said, looking back at Sam. “‘Sam’s brother is going to give me a tattoo.’”

“He’s seventeen,” Sam pointed out. “He doesn’t need your permission to get a tattoo.”

“I’ll sink your boat.”

Sam laughed again, and Connor cracked a smile.

“What design was he thinking?” Nick chimed in as he picked up a chair and joined them. His amber-coloured eyes darted between Ivan and Eric, and unlike Connor, who basically ignored them when he sat, Nick acknowledged them. “I’m Nick. We met at college yesterday,” he said to Eric, then moved his attention to Ivan. “Laurence said you’re tattooing him.”

“They’re not,” Connor said.

“You’re the one who doesn’t like needles. Laurence is fine with them.”

“I thought you’d be on my side?”

“I don’t have your control issues.”

Connor narrowed his eyes at Nick.

“Can I scoot in here?” Laurence asked, popping up between Ivan and Eric. He flashed a smile and doe eyes at both men, who assented to him joining them. Laurence placed a sketchbook between them, opening it up before dragging over a chair to sit on. “I have a few designs I was thinking of for a tattoo,” Laurence said.

Sam sipped his drink to hide his smile.

Both Ivan and Eric looked interested in the sketches. “You drew these?” Ivan asked, sounding impressed. “These are great.”

Laurence beamed at him.

“I have a strict no-tattoo rule on my boat,” Connor said pointedly.

“I was thinking about something like this.” Laurence ignored Connor. “But actually, seeing how your tattoo wraps around your arm, maybe something like this?”

Ivan leaned over Laurence’s shoulder, studying the drawings. “I could do something like that easy, although if you’re designing it yourself, Eric is the best at transferring designs to the body. He’s got a knack for making everything flow right.”

“It’s an Adonis-enforced rule,” Connor added.

“You let Nick on board,” Laurence shot back, casting him a defiant look.

Connor turned to Nick in surprise. “You have a tattoo? Where? A tramp stamp you’re hiding from Dad?”

“It’s not a tramp stamp,” Nick said.

“Food’s ready.” Trevor’s deep voice halted Connor’s interrogation. He set a tray of dishes in the centre of the table. “Laurence, did you get everyone’s drink orders?” he asked, gaze flicking to the sketchbook on the table.

“Erm.” Laurence shut it. “On it now, what does everyone want?”

“Two ciders,” Connor said, twisting to look behind him. “Adonis is coming in now.”

“Another rum and coke, Sam?” Laurence asked, taking his empty glass. “What do you two prefer?”

“Just water for me,” Ivan said. “Rum and coke for him.” He nodded at Eric.

“Dad?”

“Water for me, thank you.”

“Nick?”

“Cider.”

Laurence trotted off.

“Adonis is going to join us?” Trevor double-checked, bringing over another stool.

“On his way,” Connor said. He leaned forward, taking the plate without any meat on it for himself, and Sam helped distribute the rest of the plates of Irish breakfasts. He guessed that Sally had decided to put in a food order on their behalf when she realised they were too busy talking to go and ask. Laurence technically worked in the kitchen cooking, and they didn’t do table service here until Easter break.

It was a tight squeeze at the table. Sam hadn’t realised the entire family was going to join them when he’d picked it.

“Make sure Laurence knows he’s not allowed a tattoo,” Connor told Trevor as he settled next to Sam. Ivan had scooted over to make room for him.

“If it’s something he’s set his mind on, not much I can do about it. It’s his decision,” Trevor said calmly. Laurence returned with the tray of drinks and squeezed into the spot between Eric and Ivan again.

“There you are, you brute,” Sally’s voice rang out across the pub. “Are you causing trouble again?”

Sam twisted, though he already knew who he would see. Tall, broad-shouldered and gorgeous, Adonis strode into the pub in sandals. He had white-blond hair, flawless ivory skin, and a face so perfect that only Devil could compare. Well. Sam peeked sideways at Connor. Gun to his head if Sam had to say who he found the most attractive… The answer to that had been the same since Connor had butted his shoulder against Sam’s one evening as he laughed at a stupid joke Sam had made. Back then Connor didn’t do much laughing, and Sam had felt like he’d achieved a momentous victory.

Sam averted his gaze, turning back to the table. Everyone had twisted to look at Adonis. Except Eric, who was staring right at Sam. Sam jolted, and immediately his skin heated. He repressed a groan; getting caught checking out his ex-boyfriend while said ex-boyfriend was greeting his current boyfriend, was pretty high up there when it came to embarrassing.

Sam, casually as he could even as his pale skin undoubtedly turned bright red all over, looked back to Adonis just as he reached the table. Adonis wrapped his arms around Connor’s shoulders and dug his cheek into Connor’s.

“Did you chase them off?” Connor asked him.

“Worms,” Adonis grumbled, and Connor grinned.

“If Laurence gets a tattoo, can you sink Sam’s boat for me?”

“Easy,” Adonis huffed, shooting Sam a look of total superiority. His eyes were a light blue, with the whites – which used to be dark – only a slight metallic silver now. Whenever they were out on the ocean, they returned to dark blue, though Sam had seen them flash dark plenty of times while in the pub. People either didn’t notice or didn’t comment.

“Connor,” Trevor and Laurence admonished together.

Connor took a bite of toast, clearly unrepentant, as Adonis fixed Trevor with a lethal glare.

“If Laurence can do what he likes, I can do what I like too,” Connor said.

Sam didn’t even comment as he took a roll of cutlery. Connor wouldn’t sink his boat, but clearly his assigning the task to Adonis – who would – was an effective way of bypassing his own softness so Laurence would take the threat seriously.

“Controlling dickhead,” Nick muttered.

“Tramp stamp,” Connor shot back.

Nick glowered at him, and Adonis turned his glare to Nick. Then back to Trevor. Then Nick.

Sam covered his mouth, turning his laugh into a cough. Trevor caught his eye and smiled. “Always entertaining, isn’t it, Sam?” He wasn’t mad at him for laughing. “Eat up, everyone. I don’t want to see anyone drinking on an empty stomach. What’s the tattoo of?” Trevor snuck in so very casually.

Connor grinned to himself as Nick squirmed, suddenly in the hot seat.

Sam bumped Connor’s shoulder. “You’re mean.”

“And? Who’s gonna stop me?” Connor asked him, speaking low so only Sam would hear. He grinned like an actual devil, and Sam rolled his eyes, trying not to smile back at him.

“Mary is right about you.”

“Mary has always been right about me,” Connor agreed readily.

Adonis placed his chin on Connor’s shoulder, nudging his way into their private conversation. “What is a tattoo? I must know so I can sink Sam’s puny boat.”

Connor hunched over, shoulders trembling as he laughed. Sam groaned as he leaned back in his chair. “Seriously? I thought you liked me. Puny? ”

Connor coughed, and his eyes were watery as he straightened. “Well, if you compare it to mine…”

“Connor big. Big d—”

Connor’s hand shot up to cover Adonis’s mouth. Sam had heard Adonis comment on Connor’s dick size enough times to know exactly what he was about to say.

“I can’t bring you anywhere,” Connor said. But he was still grinning, still amused. And Sam couldn’t drudge up even the tiniest malevolent thought, not the smallest speck of hurt, because Connor in good form was infectious as hell. “Come get drunk with me later,” Connor said, bumping Sam’s shoulder again.

“You can’t get drunk.”

“But I have fun watching you get drunk.”

“If you do my readings for me, I might,” Sam bargained. He would never ever let Connor read any of his assignments. The thought of anyone seeing even one mistake-laden paragraph left him shivering in horror. But having Connor read something assigned to him and then telling him about it was actually extremely helpful. Especially because Connor would start telling Sam about any cross-references he came across in the texts, and sometimes he would talk about what the inspiration likely was.

Connor would probably ace every single class Sam took without even trying if it was him doing the course. Though he doubted Connor would ever bother with college. He liked reading and learning, but he clearly didn’t need anyone – professor or college – to rate his knowledge. He didn’t need any validation.

Sam was envious of his freedom. He’d never read a single one of the thick texts his courses demanded if he didn’t want to be graded a pass. If he didn’t crave that validation with a sad desperation he would never admit to anyone.