Page 36 of Waiting for a Prince
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 fuckedthatup.
No argument there.
Chapter Twelve
Sam hidin the shadows of the doorway, watching Mark as he crossed Union Street and headed along Melville Street. He waited until Mark was out of sight before following him, his chest aching.
Why did you do that?
Sam knew his reaction had been over the top—and not entirely honest—but that was better than letting Mark know the truth.
Over the top? Seriously?
He’d seized on the first words that had come into his head, and what had spewed out had been nothing but garbage. Better that than sharing what was really going on.
I hid how I felt behind a mask of outrage.
It didn’t matter that Mark’s words had lit him up on the inside—the reality of the situation extinguished that light all too quickly.
I had to do it, Mark. I couldn’t let you see.
He followed Mark at a distance, trying to be as quiet as a mouse as well as keeping an eye on his surroundings. When Mark trudged up Park Road, Sam waited until he turned rightonto West Hill Road before following. He watched Mark climb steps toward a four-storey building.
Finally.
Mark disappeared from his sight, and Sam’s heart pounded.
Follow him. Talk to him. Tell him the truth.
Except Sam didn’t have the nerve for that. Not yet, at any rate.
He’d need a lot more alcohol before he was ready to do that.
Mark woke up with a start, his head pounding. Something was buzzing insistently. He glanced toward his alarm clock.
What the fuck?
It was three in the morning.
