Waiting for a Prince (4 page)

“Not as often as I’d like,” Mark admitted. “I only have Sundays and Mondays off, but

Sundays tend to get full up with necessary but boring shit. When the weather’s like this, though, yeah, I love coming down here.” He gave Sam a speculative glance, trying not to stare at the

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yeah, I love coming down here.” He gave Sam a speculative glance, trying not to stare at the

man’s bod. “I’m trying to figure out why I don’t recall you from school. There weren’t
that
many kids in your year.”

“Ah.” Sam blushed. “I looked a bit different then. My hair was longer, for one, typical

island surfer boy hair, long and curly. And I used to wear glasses. God, I was glad to swap the specs for contact lenses.”

Mark stared, trying to picture Sam. And then it hit him. His eyes widened.

“Oh my God. Sam Prince.” His mouth fell open.

Sam grimaced. “Oh shit.
Now
you remember me. And I can guess why.”

Mark was nodding enthusiastically. “Man, you were a legend! You got suspended for—”

Sam held up his hand to interrupt him. “For watching porn in a computer science lesson,

yeah, I know.” He frowned. “I’m never going to live that down, am I? I keep forgetting what a

small island this is.”

Mark chuckled. “Well, duh.” Sam regarded him for a moment and then smirked. Mark

was nodding, recalling how he and his mates had talked of nothing else for weeks. “I remember

now. It was all round the school, how this kid had managed to get through all the protocols and watch porn on the school computer network. Man, we were all jealous as hell.”

“You wouldn’t have been if you’d heard what my parents said when they found out,”

groused Sam. “Talk about an ear-bashing. I got grounded for two months, they took my laptop

away from me, and if I wanted to use the computer for school stuff, I had to use my Dad’s…

only I had to do it with him looking over my shoulder the whole time.” He winked. “It made

watching porn rather difficult.”

Mark winced. “Ooh, that sucks. I couldn’t have survived high school without porn.” The

two men snickered.
Yeah
, Mark thought,
but my porn was probably very different to what
you
were watching.
He’d spent ages searching for free porn on the Internet from the age of sixteen, when he’d first realized he was gay. And once he’d found it, there was no keeping him off it. He tilted his head. “Wasn’t it Mr. Edwards who reported you to the Head Teacher?” Mr. Edwards

had been the head of the ICT faculty.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, but he was also the one who went to bat for me when they were

going to ban me from taking my exams. I needed those grades to get onto my university

course.”

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“That was decent of him, I suppose,” Mark admitted grudgingly. “By the way, what did

you end up studying at uni?”

Sam sighed. “Computer programing.” There was a second or two’s delay before both

young men cracked up laughing.

They spent the next hour or two reminiscing about teachers they’d had in common and

relating tales about all the things they’d got up to. It was the most relaxed conversation Mark could remember having in a long, long while. Sam didn’t seem in the least bit concerned to be

sitting in the nude with him, which Mark found rather endearing. Sam was easy-going and

funny, yet Mark got the impression of an undercurrent of…something. In spite of this, he found

himself warming to the guy. Time seemed to pass quickly, so much so that Mark had a shock

when he glanced up and saw the tide coming in.

“If we don’t get a move on, we’re going to get trapped by the tide,” he advised. Sam

followed his gaze and nodded. They packed up their towels. Mark let out a gloomy sigh. “And

now for the worst bit.” When Sam cocked his head, looking puzzled, Mark gestured toward

their nude bodies. “We have to put the clothes back on.”

“You know the weird thing?” Sam said as he pulled on his shorts and T-shirt. “It felt so

natural being naked, I’d almost forgotten about having to get dressed.” He snickered. “Mind

you, think of the consternation I would have caused if I’d strolled up to the car park like that.”

Both men laughed as they began their trek back to the far end of the beach, taking their time.

They walked in bare feet along the shoreline, the lacy waves frothing around their ankles as the tide crawled its way up the beach, clawing at the pebbles. The sand was warm between Mark’s

toes and the sun beat down on his bare shoulders. They didn’t talk as they traipsed along. Sam

seemed in a world of his own.

Mark saw the slipway which marked the end of the beach. The morning had been very

pleasant and he was reluctant for it to come to an end. He liked Sam. During their time together, he’d come to see him less as an object of lust and more as a warm, personable young man who

was easy to get along with.

At last they reached the car park. Mark turned to Sam and held out his hand.

“I suppose this is goodbye,” he said somewhat reluctantly. Sam took his hand and held it

for a moment, looking thoughtful.

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“Does it have to be?” he said, a hopeful expression etched across his face.

Mark stilled. “What do you mean?”

Sam flicked his head toward the far end of the car park. “It’s nearly lunchtime. Would…

would you like to join me for a bite to eat?” His cheeks were suddenly tinged with pink. “It’s

just, I’ve had a really great morning talking with you, and to be honest, I don’t have anywhere else to be right now.” He peered anxiously at Mark. “We could go to Driftwood or one of the

hotels on the sea front, if you like.” Driftwood was a bar on the beach which served food.

Mark was taken aback. It was gratifying that Sam obviously felt the same way about

their time together. He considered the proposition, which he had to admit was a tempting one.

“Please?” That hopeful light in Sam’s eyes was hard to resist.

That did it. “I’d love to.”

Sam’s beam of delight made the decision an easy one. And after all, since when was it a

hardship to sit in the sunshine and have lunch with a new friend?

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Mark leaned back into his seat and relaxed, loving the warmth of the sun on his bare

shoulders. They sat in the far corner of the beach bar, arms resting lightly on the wooden poles that ran around the perimeter. Fortunately there’d been an empty table. Mark knew how busy

this place could get. Sam faced him, sipping a Coke. Mark studied the young man in front of

him. Mark was twenty, so that made Sam approximately twenty-three. He’d got it right on

Saturday: those blue eyes were stunning. But now that Mark had the opportunity to really look

at him, there was a vulnerability in Sam’s expression that he hadn’t spotted previously.
What
goes on in that head of yours, hon
?

The server arrived with their lunch and all such thoughts were forgotten as Mark dug in

enthusiastically. The sea air always made him hungry. Sam ate at a more sedate pace, looking

out to sea at the sailboats and yachts which were making their way slowly around the eastern

coast of the island. There were always more boats around the island during Cowes week, when

it seemed like half the world’s yachting fraternity descended on the island for the boat races and speed trials. Most of the Cowes week activities were confined to the northern shores. The races were exciting enough, but Mark couldn’t stand to be among the yachties, with their designer

clothes and inane chatter. Now the Friday night fireworks,
that
was another matter entirely.

Live bands, lots of beer and a truly spectacular display to mark the end of the festivities—Mark was looking forward to it.

The edge of his hunger somewhat dulled, Mark nibbled at the ham and cheese sandwich

and picked at the side salad. He was amused to watch Sam carefully pushing the pickles to one

side.

“I take it you don’t like them.” Sam jerked his head up and Mark gave a nod toward his

plate. “Pickles.”

Sam pulled a face. “Can’t stand them.”

Mark laughed and reaching across with his fork, he stabbed into a particularly fat one.

The prongs of the fork skittered over its slippery surface, sending the pickle shooting off the plate and under the pole to land on the sand. “Oops. Slippery little sucker.” He winked at Sam, who shook his head. Sam picked up his plate and pushed the remaining pickles onto Mark’s

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who shook his head. Sam picked up his plate and pushed the remaining pickles onto Mark’s

plate.

“Next time, just ask.” He grinned. “Er, do you want that coleslaw?” Sam pointed at

Mark’s plate, a hopeful gleam in his eye.

Mark let out an exaggerated sigh as he pushed the coleslaw onto Sam’s plate. “Anything

else you want while we’re at it? The rest of my sandwich, perhaps? My crisps?” Sam gave him a

wicked smile and leaned across to snaffle one of Mark’s crisps but Mark smacked his hand away

before he could reach. “Touch them and die.” He squinted at Sam who held up his hands and

backed away, smirking. “You don’t go around touching a man’s crisps.”

Sam snickered. “Is this some social etiquette rule I wasn’t aware of? ‘Do not handle

another man’s crisps’?” The two men chuckled. Sam took another drink of his Coke and then

regarded Mark keenly. “So, how long have you been working at Hair Today?”

“About six months.” Mark stretched his back and then resettled into his seat. “Mind you,

that was after nearly eighteen months of job-hunting. There were no positions anywhere on the

island.” He stared gloomily at his plate. No wonder loads of young people wanted to move

away. Job prospects were thin on the ground. There was always lots of seasonal work, but he

hadn’t wanted that.

“Did you train at the college?” Sam inquired, referring to the Island’s further education

center. Mark nodded. Sam tilted his head. “How many blokes were on the course?”

Mark scowled. “Just me that year. I tell you, the amount of ribbing I took from those

catty bitches was nobody’s business.”

Sam winced. “I can imagine. And I’ll bet you had to put up with a load of digs about how

you must be gay to be doing a beauty therapy course.”

Mark stared. Was he trying to be funny? And then he realized. Oh
hell…
.

“Sam, I
am
gay.” He watched as Sam paled. Mark became very still.
Oh,
please
don’t be
one of these homophobic fuckers that I seem to be continually running into
…

“Oh God, Mark, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize. God, you must think me so rude.” Sam

looked horrified, but Mark quickly surmised that he was appalled to have made such a gaffe.

Mark gave him an easy smile. “Hey, it’s fine, you didn’t know.” He quirked his

eyebrows. “Although I was sure me calling you ‘hon’ on Saturday was a bit of a giveaway.” He

smirked.

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Sam’s brow furrowed. “You did? I don’t remember.” He took several gulps of his Coke.

“So, do you have a boyfriend? Partner?” He seemed flustered all of a sudden. It was actually

quite sweet.

Mark shook his head. “Nope.” He felt awkward discussing this. Maybe it had something

to do with him feeling guilty about lusting after the guy earlier. It was true Mark found him

attractive—okay, maybe that was a gross understatement, the man was drop-dead
gorgeous
—

but the more they’d chatted on the beach and before lunch arrived, the more Mark started to see the real Sam, whose good looks were simply another part of the whole. Mark was ashamed to

have been so shallow. And maybe it was time to change the subject. “So, how long have you

and…” he struggled to recall the woman’s name. “Becky? Rebecca? How long have you two

been together?”

Sam shifted in his seat and looked out toward the sea. He slipped his hands into his

pockets. “About a month or so. Not long, to be honest.” His expression grew apologetic. “Look,

about Saturday, I’m really sorry if we caused a scene.” His face fell. “She was in a right mood.”

Mark waved a hand. “Hey, don’t worry about it. All couples have fallouts now and

again.”

Sam grimaced. “Now and again, I could put up with.” The words were muttered under

his breath. Suddenly his face cleared. “Enough of our other halves—or the lack of them. Do you

like working there?” It was clear Mark wasn’t the only one who wanted to change the subject.

Mark expelled a breath. “It’s not what I imagined, that’s for sure. I thought they were

going to have me trailing one of the senior stylists at first, you know, finding my feet. But it’s been a case of ‘
clean up the salon, Mark. Make tea, Mark. Sweep the floor, Mark
.’ He mimicked Marie’s nasal voice and Sam chortled. “I swear my boss hates me.” He stared resignedly at the

remains of his sandwich. “Maybe it will be better with time.” He glanced up at Sam. “Okay, I

know you did a degree in Computer programming. What did you end up doing with it?”

It was Sam’s turn to look disgruntled. “Working for my dad.” Mark cocked his head to

one side and Sam explained further. “Dad has a software company based in London. He’s got

me working on designing some of their new programs. The good thing about it is that I can live

where I want, as I work from home. Though Dad keeps harping on about me moving to

London.”

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Mark laughed. “God, Sam, most of our classmates would
dream
of living in London.”

Sam scowled. “They can keep it. Loud, dirty place. I much prefer life over here.”

“Me too,” Mark agreed. “Although….” His words trailed off and his cheeks heated up.