Page 14 of Waiting for a Prince (Island Tales #1)

Sam took several long swigs of his beer.

He put the glass and swallowed as he raised his eyes to meet Mark’s gaze.

“Okay, so maybe I shock more easily than I’d thought.

I mean, that spit-roasting thing… I didn’t even know what that was when I was their age.

” He shrugged. “I don’t have any stories to tell you. ”

Mark snickered. “Oh, I see. It’s okay for me to bare my soul and share my first pathetic attempts at sex, but you get to chicken out.” He flapped his arms and made bawk bawk noises.

Sam laughed. “Apparently I need to be more drunk before I reveal the sordid secrets of my sex life.” He picked up his glass and drained it. “And it’s your turn to get them in.” He waved his empty glass at Mark.

Mark grumbled to himself as he stood. “Just when things were getting interesting.” He winked at Sam to show he was joking and then headed for the bar.

There was only an hour before closing time.

The beer had given him a very pleasant buzz, except nearer to the truth was that he was on the way to being drunk.

He handed over his money and grabbed the two glasses, walking carefully to their corner table, trying not to slop beer onto the already stained carpet.

The level of noise in the bar had increased as its patrons grew more voluble.

Sam leaned against the padded back of his seat, his fingers laced behind his head. His gaze was on the people around him. When Mark approached, he lowered his arms and patted the seat next to him.

“Sit here and people-watch with me for a sec.”

Mark shrugged good-naturedly and sprawled out on the seat, glancing around the bar. “Who exactly are we watching?” He reached for his beer.

Sam indicated a young man who was standing near the door on his own, his eyes on the TV screen which was silently showing Sky news. “Would you do him ?”

Mark almost choked on his mouthful of beer. “Excuse me?”

Sam grinned. “You heard me. Would you do him?”

Mark gaped. “‘Do’ as in ‘fuck’?” Sam nodded. “Oh, fuck , no.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot skyward. “What’s wrong with him?”

Mark stared incredulously. “Sam, he looks like he’s not even old enough to be in this bar , let alone my bed.” He took another mouthful of beer.

“Okay, then, what about him ?” Sam indicated another guy seated in a group by the window. Mark gave him a quick glance, taking in the heavyset man in a leather biker jacket, a tattoo rising above the neck of his T-shirt and curling up his nape.

“Not really into bikers, but tats? Now, that’s a different matter. Still, he’s not my type, to be honest.”

Sam’s eyes gleamed with interest. “Oh, go on, tell me.”

Mark cocked his head. “Tell you what?”

“Your dream guy—what would he look like?”

It was Mark’s turn to swallow.

Oh hell…

Sam arched his eyebrows. “Ooh, now you have me intrigued.” He nudged Mark conspiratorially. “C’mon, tell me.”

Mark picked up his glass and took several large mouthfuls of beer before placing the glass down on the table.

I can’t believe I’m going to do this ….

He took a deep breath.

“Good sense of humour.”

Sam snorted. “Yeah, right. You’re not writing an ad for a lonely-hearts column here. What would he look like? Details, details…”

Mark closed his eyes, his mind picturing Sam that Monday morning on Yaverland beach.

“Tall, over six feet. Skinny, but with nice abs and toned legs and arms. Short, dark hair. Blue eyes. Nipple piercings. Tattoos.” What came to mind was their first day nude on the beach.

He swallowed. “Long, thick cock. Tight arse.”

Sam’s breathing caught, and Mark opened his eyes. Sam was staring at him, his eyes wide.

“Oh my God.” The colour slid from Sam’s cheeks. Then those gorgeous blue eyes narrowed. “Well, now it all makes sense.” His lips pressed together tightly.

Mark’s heart stuttered in his chest. “What?”

Sam’s gaze had turned cool. “And here was me, thinking you were concerned about me, worrying that I wasn’t happy with Rebecca. Well, now I know what that was all about, don’t I?”

“W-what are you talking about?” Mark bit his lip, blinking rapidly.

“Oh, come on , Mark,” Sam said, his voice a deep rumble. “First you try to get me to break up with Rebecca, and then it all comes out that I’m basically your fantasy guy.”

Mark stared at Sam, aghast, unable to move.

Sam speared him with an intense stare. “At least you have the decency not to deny it. That was me you just described, wasn’t it?” Sam tilted his head. “Was that the plan, then? I ditch Rebecca, and then you make a play for the straight guy?”

Mark gasped. “Oh God, no, it… it wasn’t like that, I swear.” A sudden coldness spread through his body, wrapping itself around his heart that was pounding so loudly, he swore Sam could hear it.

Sam got to his feet. “Well, at least I know where I stand. And here was me thinking you and I were friends.” He grabbed his denim jacket from the seat beside him.

“Bye, Mark. Thanks for the drinks. It was certainly an informative evening.” Sam started to move toward the door, but Mark grabbed his arm.

“Sam, please, you’ve got this all wrong. I was concerned about you, believe me.” Mark’s eyes pleaded with Sam. “Don’t go. Please.”

Sam shrugged off his arm impatiently. “Sorry, but right now I can’t stand to be anywhere near you.” He swallowed, and just for a second, something flickered in his eyes. Then it was gone. “Bye, Mark.” He walked toward the door, wavering slightly on his feet, and out into the street.

Mark stared in absolute disbelief. In less than a minute their pleasant evening together had been shattered.

Why the hell did I tell him?

“Too late now,” he muttered under his breath. Sam was gone, and the likelihood of him ever reappearing in Mark’s life was looking remote. Except the more times he replayed Sam’s words, the more convinced he became that something had felt…off.

Forced.

Too fucking dramatic by half.

But what does that matter now?

His heart sank. The last three weeks had given him a taste of what it was like to have a really good friend. He’d genuinely liked Sam.

Laughter erupted from a nearby table, and Mark couldn’t bear to stay there another second. He grabbed his jacket, got to his feet and headed out the door. He glanced anxiously up and down Union Street, but there was no sign of Sam.

I hope he gets home all right.

Mark hung his head in misery, his shoulders hunched as he crossed the street and started the trek home, trying to ignore the tightness in his chest.

Well, you certainly fucked that up .

No argument there.