Page 32 of Waiting for a Prince
Sonia laughed. “Ooh, aren’tyouquite the smooth talker!” She took his hand as he helped her off the wall, then pulled him impulsively into a tight hug. “Be patient, sweetie,” she murmured into his ear. “Your prince will find you one day, I’m certain of it.”
Mark put his arms around her and squeezed her lightly. “Thanks, love.”
His phone chimed, and glancing down, he saw Sam’s name. He chuckled. Talk of the devil…
Sam:You out of jail yet?Wanna chat?
Sonia saw his reaction and gave him another sympathetic glance. “Sam?” He nodded. “Then I’ll let you talk.” She kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you on Tuesday. Have a lovely two days off, and remember—if you need to talk, aboutanything, you have my number.” He gave her a grateful nod and she walked toward her car, pausing to wave at him before she got in and drove out of the car park.
Mark began the slow trek along the coast road that led up to Westhill Road and his flat. He watched the tourists coming off the beach and out of the children’s amusement park, no doubt heading back to their holiday accommodation and whateverdelights the evening held for them. He pulled out his phone and after putting in his earbuds and returning the phone to his pocket, he called Sam.
After only two rings, Sam answered. “Hey. Day over?”
“Yep.” Mark ignored the momentary surge of pleasure that always occurred on hearing Sam’s quiet, deep voice. “Long day.”
There was a pause at the other end. “You got a minute?”
“Sure.” Mark looked across at the Spinnaker Tower, glinting in the evening sun. Portsmouth beckoned, with its siren call of gay clubs and bars, and the lure of anonymous sex in seedy bathrooms. That last thought brought with it a brief stab of discontent.Is it too much to hope I can meet someone who actually wants to take me home to his bed?Or who wants to come home with me?
His heart ached for that.
“How do you feel about meeting up for a drink tonight?”
Mark stopped in his tracks and closed his eyes.Tell him no. Go to Portsmouth, find a willing guy and fuck him senseless. You’ll feel better for it.Don’t torture yourself.
Even as the thought crossed his mind, his traitorous mouth went into action. “Sounds great. Where and when?” He couldn’t stop himself.
“Wetherspoons at seven? That too early? If you haven’t eaten by then, we could always grab something. They do food, don’t they?” There was something in Sam’s voice he couldn’t quite decipher.
In the end, that was what decided it for him.
“Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll meet you there at seven.”
“Fantastic.” There was no escaping the note of relief in Sam’s voice. “See you then.” Sam hung up.
Something was up.
Mark pulled off the earbuds and stuffed them into his pocket. Despite the logical part of his brain yelling at him that this wasgoing nowhere, he couldn’t fight off the warm feeling which coursed through him at the thought of seeing Sam.
Fuck, he had it bad.
Chapter Eleven
Mark was having a good time.Well, he would have been having agreattime, but for the worrying feeling that had prodded him continually.
When are you going to tell me why we’re here, Sam?
He could have this all wrong. Sam might have been in need of a pint or three after a long couple of days’ work. After spending hours staring at a laptop or monitor, he was probably in dire need of human interaction.
All very logical assumptions.
Mark’s instinct told him otherwise.
Something was going on.
Wetherspoons was heaving. They’d been able to grab a booth to the rear of the bar, a great vantage point from which to see everything going on. He and Sam chatted about films and music, the way they’d done at past meetups. The conversation was light and amusing, and yet Mark was constantly aware of an undercurrent. He caught it in Sam’s facial expressions, his tone of voice—something never fully seen but only glimpsed now and again. And as the evening wore on and Sam made no mention of whatever was on his mind, Mark decided that maybe he’d got it wrong after all. His mind was playing tricks on him.
It wasn’t until after Mark had bought the third round that he plucked up the courage to ask the question that had been on the tip of his tongue all night.
