Question Mark (30 page)

Mark started to speak but Zane shot him a glare and his mouth snapped back shut.

“You knew this kid was after you; you always have. Tell me I’m wrong,” said Zane. There was a silent
I dare you
tacked on.

“He’s been a friend. I-I wanted to believe that we could get together and have a nice dinner without any expectations beyond that.”

Zane sneered in disbelief, taking a step back. “
Wanted to believe?
You knew what would happen. Christian wants you and you’re going through a tough time. Do you think I didn’t see that you needed a shoulder to cry on?—that maybe you were blaming me a little bit for your circumstances—and with perfect timing, here was this guy who would tell you what you wanted to hear. You sit down with him and I bet your problems with me balloon. Christian’s there to kindly point that out and while you’re buying it, he’s moving right along with his agenda.

“I asked you to talk to me. To let
me
be there for you because I’ve considered you my man this whole fucking time. You wouldn’t do it though, Mark. You go to
him
when anything you needed was
here
,” Zane thumped a hand against his chest. “I offered to fly you here. I offered to try to be with you. You said
no
. You said now’s not a good time.”

Mark’s mouth had dropped back open and he finally understood how much damage he’d done. He wasn’t sure he could fix this. He could explain every single detail of what happened at that dinner with Christian, but it didn’t change any of the cold, hard facts. Mark had gone to that dinner knowing there would be come-ons, thinking he would dodge them because he cared so much for Zane, when a part of him he didn’t want to acknowledge was preening because he was about to see how much another person wanted him when he hadn’t seen
Zane
in weeks.

Mark was pissed at the time. He’d been pissed for days before that night. All because the guy he wanted to be with was in another country working—and only working, not seeing someone else. Some immature part of him was punishing Zane for the separation.
Oh, leave me here alone? Well I’ll just have dinner with a guy who’s going out of his way to see me.

Mark was such a fucking loser. A selfish, dramatic asshole of a loser. What was this?—his third “awakening” this week? This whole routine was getting pretty tired. One second Mark thought he was making progress, the next he realized he was just discovering new ways to be a dickhead. It’s like he kept finding deeper levels of sludge to add to his personality. Zane deserved better than this. He really did.

When Mark told him so, he could tell he’d surprised him. “I’m not kidding. You seem to know me better than I know myself, but you don’t have everything right about that night, Zane.” At Zane’s skeptical frown, he continued. “Of course he flirted, you’re right on that end, but he did it all to turn attention away from himself, it’s his defense mechanism. Honestly. He also told me to stop being a hypocrite because I was doing everything perfectly if my goal was to lose you. I thought I was letting you and me happen—giving us a chance. But…I guess he knew I was running scared.”

“
He
knew,” Zane jabbed. “He knew, not me. With me, you’re too busy talking around what’s really going on and I knew it after we got off the phone Sunday. You agreed to tell me the truth about you, but you spit game better than anyone I’ve ever met. One minute you’re waxing poetic with all these self-realizations and desires to be different, and the next, you’re meeting up with a man who’d trample his granny to get into your pants. And come on,
flirting as a defense mechanism?
Was that before or after he super glued himself to your mouth? I have no doubt you’d be a good friend to him, but I also know it’s nice to be
wanted
and that’s always been your weakness. You don’t think anyone wants you because your whole life you’ve gone after hard-to-get assholes.”

Okay. So. Big ouch. Mark didn’t even know how to tackle all that, but Zane wasn’t finished anyhow.

“
I wanted you, Mark.
From the fucking first moment I saw you in that goddamned shuttle boat. I wanted to talk to you, hear your voice, and see your eyes behind your sunglasses. I wanted dinner with you. I wanted a relationship with you. I wanted to touch you and make love to you. All of it. I wanted all of it.”

Wanted. Past tense. Mark sensed the panic rising in his chest. He had to find a way to salvage this
right now
. He was losing Zane…just like Christian said he would.

“I wanted you, too,” he whispered, then tried to clear the waver from his voice. “I-I was shocked to even get to meet you. You were so…different…than I thought you could be. Gorgeous, too. But, you’re this
star
and I—”

“I’m a
man
, Mark!”
Zane hollered, seeming to steal the oxygen from the room. “I’m
not
this job! I have a heart and feelings. I eat and drink; go to the bathroom. I get sick. I gain weight and lose it. I am just like you.
Fuck.
Why can’t you get that through your head?”

Mark stared and felt his whole soul just sag. “You’re an amazing man, though. You’re a better man. I’m a screwed up mess.”

“Welcome to the world, Mark! Everybody has their own shit to deal with. I could dive in with my own load of baggage from the past. Maybe talk about how I stay up nights wondering if the father that died when I was little would even talk to his fag son if he were alive.
Everybody
has their own shit. Do you realize we’ve known each other just a month? It took me a fraction of that time to decide that I’d take you any way I could get you, screwed up mess or not. You think this is all about a bullshit kiss in some parking lot? Open your eyes!”

Mark was standing still but his body was shaking like he was running full tilt. Never ever had a man he’d been with read him so easily or called him on crap so quickly—once when they were back in Bakersfield at his brother’s house and again now. Zane saw right through him to those habits and mistakes Mark so wanted to keep close to his chest. He had to play it safe with love; living under constant public scrutiny would do that to a guy.

“I don’t know what to say to make this better, Zane,” he finally spoke, his voice rife with confusion as he finally saw how thoroughly he’d sabotaged this relationship. “And I want to make it better more than anything. You may not believe it, but I didn’t ask or want Christian to kiss me. I hate that I wanted his attention and that I saw him to…test you—though I wasn’t thinking that was what I was doing at the time. The truth is, and I swear this on my family, the most important people in my life aside from you, that before he even touched me I wanted nothing more than to be a world away from him and with you. Those pictures in the paper…” he paused and swallowed. “…they’re misleading. I was grabbing his wrists to push him away. God’s honest truth. It was two seconds max. I swear. The photographers followed us and took those shots at the perfectly wrong moment. I beg you to believe me.”

Zane had paced away to the French doors that led to a balcony where he’d stopped to listen. He kept his back turned and in the dim light, Mark couldn’t see his reflection in the glass. Zane’s body was tense and utterly distracting. The sun-darkened skin covered strong muscles that tapered down his back to an ass that was barely covered. Zane’s arms and legs were strong and cut. His skin smooth. He was the most amazing man Mark had ever been with—and not just physically.

Mark was completely terrified this was the end, even though he absolutely deserved to be kicked out.

“The second I got home,” Mark murmured, “I called my parents and told them everything. They’re furious with me, but it didn’t stop them from helping me get a ticket out of Albuquerque the next day. There were all these delays, a tropical storm on the east coast, and I didn’t fly out of New York until early this morning. I knew I should call, but I didn’t think you’d talk to me.” Mark was blabbering but was unable to stop until the whole mortifying mess was out.

“The magazines and the papers were everywhere in the airports—people were taking out their camera phones and taking pictures of me
all the time
—like, ‘There’s the asshole who stabbed Zane Whitlow in the back.’ I could only imagine what you’d be seeing and hearing so I called Jenny hoping she would help me out.”

Zane’s head dropped and he entwined his fingers behind his neck. His shoulder muscles rippled beautifully. Leave it to Mark to think about sex during one of the most important conversations in his life.

“I’ll pay your parents back for the ticket,” Zane murmured.

“Zane, that’s not why I—”

“I’m paying them back,” he snapped, dropping his hands and facing Mark again, his expression unreadable.

“Then I’ll pay you once I…” Mark trailed off at the cold look that washed over Zane’s features. Wrong thing to say apparently. Add it to the list.

All at once, Zane seemed to give up. He walked to the end of the bed and sank onto it with a sigh that made Mark feel even worse, something he thought impossible a moment before. “I have a really early call tomorrow morning and today was…long. I need to sleep.”

“Of course,” Mark answered, wondering what in the world he should do with himself. Was that his cue to go and find another place to stay? Maybe a park bench outside the hotel? Shit, the cameras were probably still staked out. He didn’t even know where to go. “I’ll just get my stuff together.”

Zane let him get all the way to his bag where his sweater and undershirt were still balled up on top before he spoke. “You’ll get hounded if you leave here. Just stay.” He nodded toward the bathroom. “Get a shower if you want.”

Mark stayed hunched over his bag before looking back over his shoulder at Zane who was running his hands through his hair. Scared he’d say something dumb if he allowed more than a simple “Okay” to pass his lips, Mark began to search for his toiletries. Zane was under the covers on the side of the bed furthest from the bathroom door by the time Mark walked to the bathroom. He shut the door and stared at his tired reflection in the mirror.

Just stay.

Maybe, possibly, there was hope.

***

He had a three a.m. wakeup call and Zane couldn’t sleep. He glanced at the clock for, like, the hundredth time in the last minute and it wasn’t moving any faster. Still only 12:03. Crap and damn.

Zane really didn’t like what was happening here. Besides being incredibly torn over Mark’s sudden arrival and their subsequent boffing, the talk between them hadn’t gone well. Zane didn’t know if that was because he was still totally hurt, being too stubborn, or if a quick revenge fuck was sounding their death knell.

The simplest things swayed Zane. Hearing that Mark’s parents were rooting for him had him fighting off a warm sensation that distracted him from getting everything off of his chest. Mark’s confession angered and softened him equally until he felt like an inert
thing
, simply stuck.

If they couldn’t get past this movie star with an average guy bullshit, Zane was through. It was times like this when a man couldn’t see past the fame to the person beneath that he wished he weren’t well-known at all.

His pride was holding out and wallowing in the drama, no doubt about it. The rest of him wanted to curl up in Mark’s lap and forget the world like a complete tool. Zane wanted to believe Mark’s story, but he wasn’t able to snap his fingers and make the pain of the last four days disappear. He’d tried.

He said he was yours, though
, he’d think. Then his vindictive side would snap back,
Yeah, right after he threw what you offered him in your face
.

Zane wanted to call Christian and yell out a giant
“What the fuck, asshole?”
He wanted to see that bastard and open palm slap him just because that seemed more offensive and less predictable than a closed fist. And since when had Zane become so territorial that he saw red when he thought of a man who was a virtual stranger? If Zane wasn’t careful, he was going to turn into a real lunatic.

Tattooed hornball nosing in on my fucking guy
, he growled to himself unhelpfully.

Across the room on the couch where they’d “reunited,” Mark rolled over again. He had to be totally uncomfortable, but if he was, he wasn’t saying a word. After Mark’s shower, Zane pretended he was asleep as Mark walked to the couch in worn pajama pants and a t-shirt. He didn’t have a blanket, just a too-firm throw pillow to prop under his head. At first Zane decided he deserved an uncomfortable night’s sleep, then he thought about how Mark had hopped on the first plane to fly to England and work their relationship out, and how he’d been sleeping in airports.

Piss on it, he thought, sitting up in bed with a jerk.

“Mark.” With eyes accustomed to the darkness, he saw Mark stir and carefully maneuver his body so he wouldn’t fall off the couch in the process.