Question Mark

by Culpepper, S. E.

  “You guys are actually making sense,” he answered, thinking it over.

  Mikey slapped him on the shoulder in encouragement. “Go in there like The Mercenary would.” Zane rolled his eyes at him. “Seriously, man. Give it a try.” Mikey moved away and signaled their bellman. “While you’re busy growing a pair, we’re going to check out our mountain view bungalow and I’m going to try to get in Lea’s pants.” He pointed at Zane in warning. “Don’t be a pussy.”

  Zane flipped him off as discreetly as possible and headed off toward his bungalow. The room was awesome, so he had no idea what kind of heaven Mikey and James were in across the resort. The pair was likely six bottles into the minibar by now.

  He did a quick walk through his room and liked what he saw until he stepped out onto the dock platform and loved it. The moment he leaned against the railing to look around, he saw Mark and he didn’t try to fight the grin that shot to his face.

  The man ran straight from his bungalow across the platform and cannon balled, yelling “Free at last!”

  Zane laughed and watched as Mark surfaced and swam around like the happiest man in miles. The water looked perfect.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Mark surfaced and lay on his back content to stare at the clear sky and soak in the warmth around him. It was so amazing to feel good. To be ready to be content again. All that time moping after Rafe—who was pretty damn mope-worthy—had been his own choice and in essence, it had made him a miserable person. He still wasn’t sure what made that man so hard to let go. Maybe it was that once upon a time there was such potential. Rafe wasn’t his first love, but he was his biggest love and it left him at loose ends when it didn’t work out.

  Mark remembered what it was like when he saw his ex come to that softball game months ago, not to watch Mark, but to see Jeremy. Mark knew it was really over then and as much as he didn’t like admitting it, his heart had been truly broken. After that phone message where Rafe apologized for all of the bad shit between them, sounding contrite and maybe even open to starting over, Mark was stupidly responsive. A total idiot. Recognizing the call meant little to Rafe was the straw that broke him. It led to a booze-fest like none other and a drunk dial to Brian Hatchett, Rafe’s best friend. Thinking of it made Mark’s whole body red with mortification.

  It all came down to the fact that Rafe was what Mark always thought he needed and realizing he didn’t meet that same criteria for his ex, well… It was hard accepting that Mark didn’t know himself well enough to have changed his circumstances sooner.

  And here he was thousands of miles away and the distance was the perfect kick in the pants to move on. Every day he got stronger—at least that’s what he was telling himself.

  Mark lazily moved his arms through the water and sighed. He was about to dive back down when a terrific splash sounded nearby. The sudden thought of sharks and predatory type sea creatures came to mind—didn’t sea rays have some kind of barb to attack with? He flailed up from his relaxed floating, splashing around to discover which direction the gaping shark maw was going to attack him from.

  His heart beat didn’t slow at all, but instead sped up when he saw it wasn’t a shark in the literal sense of the word, but a very determined and sexy-looking man swimming his way. What was Whitlow doing on this side of the resort?

  Mark’s stomach moved into a fancy salsa rhythm against his ribs. Zane Whitlow without his friends around was a whole new animal—an intensely gorgeous animal who acted like he had his prey in his sight. The clear waters were doing nothing to hide his famous physique and Mark went blank.

  Surreal. Where were the cameras? This had to be a reality show based on Whitlow’s vacation.

  “The water’s perfect,” Zane smiled. His strong arms and shoulders flexed as he stroked through the water toward Mark who practically shot off at the sight like a fifteen year old. That’s why they paid Zane the big bucks, he supposed. Make men and women jizz in their pants without hardly moving?—bam, you’re hired!

  “W-what are you doing over here?” Mark stammered, realizing too late that he was giving away that he knew where Zane was supposed to be staying.

  The other man moved in closer to Mark and smiled comfortably. “My buddies have bungalows on the other side. I’m over here. Right next to you it looks like.” He glanced around at the beach and the water and grinned. “Great idea to swim, by the way.”

  Mark stared at him in disbelief. He had no doubt that Whitlow could easily afford a bungalow on the Mount Otemanu side. Then again, for all he knew, maybe the actor was a cheap bastard.

  Treading water, he pulled his body back from Zane to put more distance between them. This would be an awesome story to tell later, but for the moment Mark was overwhelmed. Some ridiculous part of him wanted to ask if Zane ever got hard when he filmed a sex scene and this was proof that he should flee before he actually spoke.

  You must not ask that, Mark ordered himself.

  “So, you’re not heading out to jet ski or snorkel or anything?” Mark asked, trying to keep it light and pretend he was unaffected by the water droplets clinging to the totally famous actor.

  Zane closed the distance again until there was only a few feet between them. “I had better stuff I wanted to do,” he murmured, crystal waters lapping near his chin. “Like try to talk with you.”

  Mark’s legs stopped kicking and his head dropped beneath the surface. He popped back up sputtering and wiped a hand over his face. He couldn’t help it; laughter bubbled up out of him. Apparently it was his day to be on the receiving end of some serious come-ons. A trip to Tahiti would’ve happened a lot sooner if he knew this was the type of treatment he’d get. Maybe he’d paid for some kind of ego-boosting package and wasn’t aware of it.

  Zane was watching him with a sheepish smile. “Clearly that backfired…” the actor said mildly.

  Mark laughed some more and nodded as Zane reddened, backing away. The distance bothered Mark this time. “It’s my fucking friends’ fault. Both of them,” Zane mumbled.

  Mark found himself swimming back toward the actor, confused by his sudden shift from confident to unsure. “How do you mean?”

  Zane lifted an eyebrow the way Mark had seen him do in his movies and it made his mouth go dry. “I’m not really batting a thousand here, so I think I’ll just keep my mouth shut.”

  “Can’t. It’s out there and you have me intrigued.”

  A loud exhale of breath preceded Zane’s reluctant admission. “Obviously, as you can tell, I suck at talking to guys. They offered some advice, which pretty much tanked.”

  Talking to guys? Like he wants to talk to me? Like I’m a guy he’s interested in? Mark shook himself. He didn’t think Zane was doing such a poor job. “You don’t suck at talking to guys.” Zane made a noise of disagreement and Mark kept talking. “You probably chat guys up all the time.”

  An unreadable look flashed over Zane’s features. “Yeah, well, Mikey and James aren’t gay and I’m not interested in them so it doesn’t count.”

  “What makes you think I’m gay?” Mark’s eyes tightened on him, trying to ignore the dancing maracas in his chest at the “interested” comment.

  “Uh…nothing actually.” The other man bit down on his lip. “Unless you count all the hope in my soul of souls?”

  Adorable. More laughter rose up within Mark and he didn’t hide his amazement. Turning back toward his bungalow, he swam to the ladder and was halfway up when he looked over his shoulder at Zane.

  “I guess it’s your lucky day then, Whitlow.”

  Mark was almost inside when he heard his name. Zane was holding on to the bottom ladder rung and peering up hopefully at him. “So this little display,” he waved his hand around, “did it kill my chances?”

  Mark, feeling like a million fucking bucks and knowing he should escape before he ruined everything, knelt down and leaned toward Zane. “I wouldn’t say that.”

  The man’s smile was hesitant and his voice dropped a little dee
per as he asked, “What would you say?”

  “Are you asking me out?”

  “Y-yes?”

  Mark cocked his head to the side. “You don’t sound sure.”

  Surprising the hell out of both of them, Zane pulled himself up out of the water until his taut body was close enough Mark could sense the heat in it. “I’m so fucking absolutely totally sure that I want to see more of you.”

  Mark grinned hugely. “Is that you talking, or your friends’ advice?”

  “Me,” Zane breathed quickly, his light blue eyes shining. “Definitely me.”

  “Well, then. I’d like that, too.”

  Zane’s face transformed with his smile and Mark nearly collapsed backward from the force of it. Zane-effing-Whitlow! His brain screamed.

  “Dinner?”

  Mark nodded once. “I’m starving.”

  ***

  The evening was beginning to settle in and the breeze was slightly cooler as it moved through the outdoor bar where Christian was on the lookout. His green-eyed prey had several choices of places to go and he hoped that the first stop would include a drink at the bar so Christian could put the moves on him. Kyle had been goading him all afternoon since the run-in and Christian was playing along, but he honestly couldn’t keep his mind off of the man he had spoken to for such a brief moment outside the lobby.

  Christian was twenty-eight years old now with the damned baby face of a twenty-one year old. He had a girlfriend back home that he cared about but didn’t love. He made good money at a job with a boss who was old fashioned enough to mind if he came out. Christian wasn’t in denial about who he was. He denied himself the opportunity to be it.

  People could say that opinions don’t matter and he shouldn’t hide but it seemed to Christian that he had a lot going for himself and he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to leave it behind simply because he was attracted to men and wanted to be with one. He honestly questioned whether or not it was worth it. It wasn’t about shame for him, it was about the bottom line. Nobody could have everything they wanted all the time and it seemed like what he gained paled in comparison to what he’d lose if he were to tell the truth. If that meant Christian was in the closet hanging with the coats, so be it. He could still have seven minutes in heaven there anyway.

  He had so many secrets, though. So many obstacles. At least he wasn’t one of those clichéd type guys who in his private moments wants men but in public turns raging homophobe.

  Taking another pull on his beer, he eyed the entrances for any sign of his guy and wished like hell that circumstances could be different. It had been too long... The memories burning through him made him itch like an addict.

  “We’re going in to eat,” Kyle leaned over the bar next to him. “Remember. A deal’s a deal. If he acts interested, you have to pursue it.”

  Fuck you, too, homophobic asshole. Christian managed to grumble his assent and went back to searching the faces in the crowd, waiting impatiently for Kyle to leave already. He adjusted his shirt and ran a hand through his hair nervously, finally giving in and ordering another beer. He was nursing it along when he saw his target.

  Boom. Christian smiled slyly to himself.

  The other man was standing on the landing that led into the hut and had his back to the bar. His six-foot frame was washed out by the glare of the sun dropping down the horizon. He acted like he was looking for someone as well and Christian grinned when he realized it might even be him.

  Tapping on the bar, Christian let the bartender know he was coming right back and weaved his way through the pre-dinner drinks crowd until he was right behind his guy. For a second, he was nearly overcome by the need to touch him, but years of withholding stuck solid.

  Christian leaned forward and said, “If you’re looking for someone, I hope it’s me.”

  The man jumped and spun towards him, his cheeks brightening to a lush pink. “You keep catching me off guard!”

  Christian grinned unapologetically and gestured toward the bar with a flick of his chin. “Thirsty?”

  “Are you even old enough to drink?”

  Dammit. Christian forced a laugh even at the same time he felt that pull of attraction. So the guy was a bit of a hard ass, huh? Christian was glad that he didn’t have to fake his interest. “I’m twenty-eight. Wanna see my driver’s license?”

  The other man turned away and kept his eyes moving as he shrugged. “No need.” He gave the tatts another furtive look, making warmth bloom under Christian’s skin. People always looked; few had the guts to ask what all the ink meant.

  “Well then? Care for a drink? I’m good company.”

  A sideways look and the hint of a smile was all Christian needed to clinch his plans to ravish this man until there was nothing left to ravish. “I’ve no doubt, but I’m waiting for—”

  “Mark! You weren’t supposed to be here yet,” the familiar voice broke in on their conversation and Christian turned to see the galldamned actor from the lobby. His veins froze when he thought of how he’d actually paid good money to see Innuendos last week and now his famous ass was coming at them full speed ahead.

  Share the wealth, man. Christian thought. There’s thousands of guys who’d gladly plunder your village. You really gotta step up on my turf?

  Christian looked back and forth between Whitlow and the mystery guy—Mark apparently—and considered pushing Whitlow back down the steps. How was he supposed to compete with this? This was the Zane Whitlow who also happened to be out and apparently proud about it… Great!

  Fuckola.

  Christian grit his teeth together at the look on Mark’s face as Whitlow smiled like he didn’t know how hot he was, hands in the pockets of his shorts and his pale pink button up shirt fluttering in the breeze. Pale pink! The guy was too secure for his own good and Christian couldn’t ignore that there was some chemistry between Mark and the actor. Maybe they already knew each other before they arrived in Bora Bora, but their obvious connection had Christian seeing shades of green.

  Mark watched Whitlow’s every move until he realized he was ignoring Christian at his side.

  “God, I’m sorry.” His voice was rough and sexy and Christian almost scowled because he had nothing to do with making it that way. “I’m Mark, by the way, and this is—”

  “Zane Whitlow.” The actor held out his hand and smiled politely, his eyes flickering back to Mark.

  Christian took the offered hand and tightened his grip until Zane looked back at him, startled. He was sending a message that the actor got loud and clear. What surprised Christian was when Zane gripped his hand right back and added a little pressure for emphasis. Umm ouch.

  “Good to meet you,” Christian ground out and pulled back his hand, disappointed. He was lean and strong, but clearly not as strong as Whitlow. Christian turned back to Mark and flicked his head to get his hair out of his eyes. “Looks like I’m too late to monopolize you this evening. There’s always tomorrow, though.” He threw in a wink for good measure and lightly grabbed Mark’s shoulder in farewell. Christian’s mood improved dramatically when he saw Whitlow stiffen at the contact.

  Mark blushed again and casually moved away like he was heading into the bar, and Whitlow took the opportunity to close the distance to Christian and glare.

  “Forget it, kid,” he whispered.

  “Up yours,” Christian grinned, retreating to his spot at the bar.

  This wasn’t at all how he thought he’d be spending the evening. Mark was supposed to be across from him, laughing and smiling while Christian absorbed the rush of flirting with his secret life. Instead, Mark was across the bar yucking it up with a famous guy who could wine and dine him until his eyes crossed. What a pisser.

  But like he’d said to Mark, he’d figure something out for tomorrow. Christian would find him and make him forget all about those baby blues Whitlow kept twinkling at him. And tonight? Well, Christian would get exceptionally drunk.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Zane had wante
d to grab a quick shower and shave before he met Mark for dinner, so after he swam back to his bungalow in a haze of I-can’t-believe-that-just-happened, he rushed to clean up. He would have been there to meet him on time, too, if it hadn’t been for the call from his agent/manager who practically had him sign a contract before he went on vacation saying he would keep himself available for phone calls. Zane was humoring her because a big deal was in the works, but being late for dinner was out of the question.

  He cut Jenny off by admitting that he had a date. She was sweet enough to remember that it had been a couple of eons since he’d been out, so she took the opportunity to really give him hell before she hung up. Now he was twice as nervous.

  Mark already gave Zane that weird gut ache he used to get when his gorgeous and worldly drama teacher in high school used to call on him. That hadn’t ended well. As such, Zane was really quite concerned at the exact magnitude of dorkiness Mark might end up witnessing this evening. Remembering the way Mark looked right through him when they were swimming made Zane bury his face in his hands. It was so embarrassing.

  He couldn’t help himself, could he? Zane just had to follow advice that would short-circuit any intelligence and authenticity and instead make him look like an actor in a bad porno.

  “I had better stuff I wanted to do… Like try to chat with you…” he mimicked himself. “I’m also a lame asshole…”

  Apparently Mark had a kind heart because this date was happening. Zane’s heart, however, was thumping out a base line as he threw on the only clothes in his bag that weren’t totally wrinkled. Before stepping out the door, he gave himself a final once over and decided he was doing alright. Casual. Not too serious. Not too frumpy. God, was that a zit? Fuck it. There was no time.

  The lights were off in Mark’s bungalow, so Zane took a chance that he might end up sweating through his shirt and jogged toward the open-air bar where they were meeting. He slowed down quickly when he got his first look at Mark standing on the landing waiting for him. His dark hair was freshly styled and he’d changed into a polo with a pair of blue patterned shorts and white sneakers. He looked comfortable, delicious, and semi-distracted by a tall man who acted like he wanted to lay Mark down on the deck and go for the gold in team sports.