Page 18 of Waiting for a Prince (Island Tales #1)

Chapter Fifteen

They walked along the path which led past the lighthouse and around the corner to where a sea wall had been constructed out of heavy boulders held together tightly in metal netting. The waves pounded the rocks on the shore as Mark and Sam headed up the coastal path which rose steeply.

“So how do you come up with ideas for computer games?” Mark asked.

“Well, first you need to decide on your theme. Horror, fantasy, sci-fi, Super-hero, mystery… Once you know that, you have to figure out how your game will play. Will it be a role-playing game? A point-and-click adventure? An action games with shooters, or maybe a survival game.” Sam smiled.

“I have so many ideas.” He spent the next five minutes running through them, and Mark had to admit he was impressed.

Then Sam’s face tightened. “But that’s not the tricky part.

Then I have to get my dad to agree to let me design one.

” He shrugged. “Maybe he’ll let me do one and see how it goes.

If it works out, he might let me do more of them. ”

“I love your ideas. It’s great to hear original stuff that isn’t basically a rehash of some old, tired game done far too many times already.

” Mark didn’t play often on his PS5, but he liked games that made him think.

“And if your dad won’t give you a shot, then maybe think about taking your ideas elsewhere. Trust me, someone will snap them up.”

The path curved up to its highest point where a wooden bench had been placed, right at the cliff edge.

Mark sat down, patting the sun-warmed wood beside him, and Sam joined him.

For several minutes they stared out to sea, the only sounds the waves and the harsh cries of the seagulls as they rose up on the air currents along the cliff.

There were so many thoughts tumbling through Mark’s head, but only one that was persistent.

I think he’s heading for trouble.

Before he could say anything, Sam spoke.

“I really am sorry for reacting the way I did in the pub. It was just the last thing I’d expected to hear, that I was basically your walking fantasy.

And it was easier to hide behind an angry facade than come out and tell you the truth.

” His expression was glum. “I should have been honest with you.”

Mark cleared his throat. “Look, I know you don’t want to talk about what’s going on between you and Rebecca.

” The words rushed out of him and he could have kicked himself when Sam tensed up yet again.

Mark wasn’t going to give up this time. “And while I can’t pretend to understand it, I just want to say one thing.

If you ever need to talk, about anything , I’m here for you. ”

Sam’s shoulders slumped forward, and he pressed his palms to his eyes.

“Thank you,” he said at last, his voice shaking.

“You don’t know what it means to me to hear you say that.

” He lowered his hands and looked Mark in the eye.

“I could really use a friend right now.” Mark grasped Sam’s hand tightly and Sam looked down at their joined hands with a smile.

He lifted his chin. “And for the record? I didn’t get into bed with you this morning so we could ma—have sex.

” Those cheeks were pink again. “I simply wanted to be near you. But the impulse to kiss you was so strong, I couldn’t fight it.

” He shook his head. “It… it won’t happen again. ” His chin dropped to his chest.

“Sam.” Mark freed his hand and cupped Sam’s cheek, forcing Sam to look at him. “I won’t deny it: if you were single, this morning would have ended so differently.”

God, yes .

Mark forced himself not to imagine Sam in his arms, kissing him, touching him…

He inhaled sharply. “But you’re not. So yes, I’ll be your friend.

” He gave Sam a wry smile. “I could use a friend right now, too.” He extended his hand and after staring at it blankly for a moment, Sam took it. They shook, Sam’s grasp firm.

“Friends,” Sam repeated, more confidently this time.

Mark smiled brightly. “Friends.” He was not a mean-spirited person, but in that moment, he found himself wishing fervently that Sam had never laid eyes on Rebecca.

Because Mark wanted him.

If he hadn’t been sitting on a bench with tourists walking past him every few minutes, Sam would have got up and danced.

It’s going to be okay.

If they could go on as before, meeting up on Sundays and Mondays, with maybe the bowling night or karaoke thrown in for good measure, that would be enough.

Except he knew deep down he was only fooling himself.

Aren’t you forgetting something? Well, some one .

In the hour since they’d arrived at Steephill Cove, Sam’s phone had vibrated in his pocket about five times. He’d left it there.

He didn’t want to look.

Didn’t want to see her name.

Sam knew he was only postponing the inevitable.

Maybe I should just stand up to her. He’d found the courage to tell Mark how he felt, hadn’t he? Surely he could dig deep and find some more.

Yeah? And where will that lead?

He already knew the answer to that, and the thought of how that conversation would go made his stomach churn.

The same way it roiled every time his dad spewed more hate, and with every word Sam saw him for the homophobic, transphobic, racist man he was.

Dad was good at keeping his feelings hidden, but Sam had heard him often enough when he spoke with his friends on the phone.

There were more of them out there, and Sam wanted to keep the hell away from them. Living on the island put a barrier between him and his dad, although Sam knew his dad wanted him in London.

There was no way he was going back.

Not now he’d found Mark.

“Hey, where did you go?”

Sam gave himself a mental shake. “Sorry.”

Mark peered at him. “I meant what I said. Anytime you need to talk, don’t hesitate.”

Sam sighed internally. And if you learned the truth, you’d never look at me the same way again.

Sam had enough of a problem looking at his reflection. Because sometimes the man in the mirror seemed to glare at him.

To demand how he could let this whole fucked-up situation continue.

Sam didn’t have an answer for him.