A Breath of Innocence Page 4

  The sun bathed Mark in its warm glow as if it were a spotlight designed to accentuate his broad chest. Griffith’s own body was wiry, muscular and slender, but Mark was a god in human form. No wonder Morwen had fallen for him.

  Mark’s pecs were exactly the kind of thing Griff shouldn’t be thinking about.

  “Well, maybe that’s what the dishwasher’s for.” Nisha pouted and rolled her eyes at Griff.

  “So what do I get for my screwdriver skills?” Mark asked, and his gaze settled on Griff as if he were the one to be paying these imaginary dues.

  Griffith crossed his arms on his chest and exhaled, already feeling the heat build up in his cheeks. “That’s right, Nisha. What will you give in exchange?”

  She was finally caught off-guard, and her full lips parted. “I…”

  Mark laughed, and when he leaned over the railing of his balcony, it felt like being watched by a hawk about to strike down and sink its claws into the neck of a rabbit. “Just messing with you. I always help pretty girls, so it’s on me. That is, of course, if Griffith allows me into the house. Wouldn’t want to overstep.” The way he said that last bit sounded so ridiculously polite it could have only been meant as mockery. ‘Overstepping’ was exactly what Mark wanted to do, and he was using Nisha to get back at Griffith for throwing him out last week.

  This was a challenge, and Griffith would not declare surrender before the fight. “Sure, you can come over. It’s Nisha’s flat as well,” he said, keeping grudges out of his tone. Easy-peasy. He’d practiced fake smiles his whole life.

  He wouldn’t let Mark see just how much he’d hurt Griffith’s pride.

  Nisha grinned and bit her thumb. “Cool! I’ve got cake.”

  “Be there in a sec!”

  And just like that, Mark disappeared from view, and Nisha fled into the dance studio with a squeal. “Om-em-gee! I can’t believe I did that. My heart is beating so fast!”

  Griffith followed her in exasperation. “What do you think you’re doing? This guy’s a player. That’s not the kind of person you want as your first boyfriend!”

  She was too busy checking her makeup in the mirror to look back. “So what? Maybe I’m not looking for a boyfriend just yet? I can finally do what I want. I’m not waiting till I’m all lovey-dovey to lose the V. Wait… you’re not jealous are you?”

  It took Griff a few seconds to process what she’d said, and his face flamed when he realized that his first thought wasn’t being jealous about Nisha finding someone to fool around with before he did, but about Mark’s attention.

  Griffith hadn’t even kissed anyone before. But Mark? If only he could kiss those lips without Mark retaining any memory of it, he would. Oh, he so would.

  “Of course I’m not jealous,” he said and glanced into the mirror to make sure no hair was out of place, and that the parting was perfectly asymmetric. He didn’t want to look like a bum, even when hosting a bad person. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea. There’s plenty of guys who don’t flirt with everyone they meet and pretend to be nice to get into their pants.”

  “Yeah, but he’s American, right? They’re a lot more forward like that. I told you of all these times random people chatted to me in New York last year, right?” Nisha dismissed Griff’s words with ease, unaware that he was getting stomach cramps just from thinking about having to face Mark.

  Griffith hugged himself, unsure what to think. What if Mark got together with Nisha, even just for a bit, and would constantly come over?

  “Anyway, if he’s such a player, I bet he’s good in bed.” Nisha wiggled her eyebrows.

  Griffith scowled, but now that she brought it up, images of Mark leaning over him flooded his defenseless mind. If he did pull-ups with such ease and had such a pronounced six-pack, Mark could surely work his hips like a piston.

  Oh God, Griffith really didn’t need to think about him in this context.

  “You did not just say that.”

  Nisha giggled, covering her lips. “You think a jilted lover poked his eye out?”

  But there was no time to answer that question when the doorbell rang.

  Griffith rushed to the door, leaving her behind. His brain pulsed with images that were more realistic that any VR experience. He could practically smell Mark’s cologne before he even opened the door.

  He needed to remain calm and collected, to show Mark just how much he didn’t care about him. But all of Griffith’s intentions melted away when he opened the door and saw the man whose presence was doing all sorts of strange things to his body without even touching it.

  Mark had the decency of not arriving bare-chested, but in some ways, that was even worse, because the simple white tank top he wore only emphasized the dusky color of his skin, the well-shaped arms, and even the dark nipples were slightly visible through the fabric.

  “You changed your mind?” Mark asked with a smirk.

  Griffith’s throat was paralyzed, leaving him to stare back at Mark in silence. He could only hope he’d successfully made it appear like a meaningful pause. “About what?”

  “Letting me in?”

  Nisha came into the corridor, and in that moment Mark decided to step inside without waiting for an answer. Which meant he brushed against Griff in the doorway, and as he passed, he even casually touched Griff’s hip, as if only to show he could invade Griff’s personal space.

  His scent was intoxicating. Never in his life had Griff met a man who made his whole skin burn with the need for touch. Unable to bring himself to say anything yet again, he shut the door and followed Mark and Nisha on legs that felt like jelly.

  This wasn’t happening.

  “So where did Griffith fail with the screwing?” Mark asked casually, but his words were like a physical strike. How dare he come to this flat and make comments like that?

  Nisha giggled and pushed on Mark’s shoulder. Some friend she was. Then again, what would he do if he actually got the chance to flirt with Mark? Hide under a table hyperventilating, most likely. Nisha at least could fake-confidence her way into a hot guy’s bed. Griffith? He wasn’t even sure if he felt ready for any physical contact with guys.

  “It’s just this stool here,” she pointed to a flat cardboard box from IKEA resting against the sitting room wall.

  “You could have just asked me to assemble it for you. But you didn’t,” Griffith said quickly, so embarrassed he was torn between running away and staying to protect Nisha.

  “Naughty girl! Are you luring me into your trap?” Mark wagged his finger at Nisha with a smile, and no matter what an ass Mark had been, Griff still wished it was him receiving his attention.

  Nisha bit her lip. “Sorry! I do have cake though. I’ll bring it over.”

  She rushed to the kitchen, and Mark sat down on the carpet putting aside his screwdriver to unpack the box. His back looked so good Griff could have licked it all over, feeding on the warmth and saltiness of Mark’s fresh sweat.

  Griffith swallowed and tried to gather his thoughts as he watched the strong shoulders and muscular back, but Nisha would be back soon. He had no time to waste.

  “You better stay away from her,” he whispered, leaning over Mark, so that this conversation remained private.

  Mark let his head fall back and looked straight into Griff’s eyes, their faces suddenly closer than Griff could have expected. No man had ever looked at him this way, but after seeing Mark flirt with Nisha, Griff was becoming sure that he’d been reflecting his own attraction to Mark instead of seeing what was there. A hot dickhead.

  “She your girlfriend?”

  “We’re like siblings. And just so that you know, Nisha has three very protective older brothers. If you as much as lay a finger on her, I will let them know. I won’t let you hurt her like you hurt Morwen.”

  The mocking smile melting away from Mark’s face made Griff do a little victory dance in his mind.

  “Don’t talk about things you know nothing about. And if I happen to choose Nisha, I will go t
hrough her three brothers if I need to. I’m not a quitter. Now let me assemble this stool.” Mark looked away and finished unpacking all the pieces of wood.

  Griffith was stunned into silence. He took a step back, struck by the intensity of Mark’s words as if they were a physical presence squeezing around his chest. What did he mean? There was no reason for Griffith to ignore his sister’s words, but what did he really know? Maybe it was Morwen who was so bitter after losing Mark that she’d put all the blame on him? Those things happened sometimes.

  Nisha came back with three pieces of cake, and the scene descended into yet more flirting when Mark said he couldn’t eat with his hands full, so Nisha proceeded to feed him. The little stool was assembled in no time, and Griff wished he wasn’t so into Mark’s arms. Oh, what he’d give to make time freeze so that he could slide his hands up and down the hairy skin to see just how sturdy Mark’s muscles were.

  So wrong though. Hello, sexual assault.

  He was not that kind of person.

  Griffith stayed quiet, listening to Nisha telling Mark about her business course. Unlike Griff, she was genuinely excited about the perspective of having a conventional career. When Nisha had first told Griffith that she intended to become the CEO of her family's company, Griff had believed it was a matter of ambition, but as time passed, she got more and more into it and even linked to business-themed articles on Facebook. Was that really what she did in her spare time?

  In comparison, Griffith felt like a lone man on a boat that had a mast but no sail, at the mercy of the current and weather. Directionless, despite knowing how to find his way by stargazing. There was a destination in the picture, a safe haven that would feed and clothe him, but Griffith was more interested in watching the dolphins than reaching shore.

  He would either get his head on straight or die—if not physically then socially.

  He must have spaced out, because he wasn’t really sure what was happening when Mark put his hands on the floor, and then leaned forward while his feet effortlessly left the wooden panels.

  Griffith knew how to do a handstand too, but watching the muscles in Mark’s arms bulge and knowing the strength hiding inside that body had him focus. When Mark straightened his legs, creating a vertical line, the strain made the veins under his skin more pronounced, and gravity forced the tank top to slide lower, revealing the lean stomach muscles. The urge to lean forward and press his face against them made Griff dizzy.

  Mark’s face was only slightly flushed by the time he put his feet back on the floor. He grinned at Nisha. “Don’t be scared. I’ll hold you up if your hands give out.”

  Griffith gave a mental groan. As if Nisha couldn’t do a handstand without help. So could he, but he didn’t want to boast.

  Nisha played along. “I can’t do it in a skirt!” She play-punched Mark’s arm. “I can see what you’re going for here. Wait, I’ll get my leggings.”

  Mark grabbed her wrist with a grin. “Oh, come on. It’s not like I’ve never seen a pair of panties before.”

  Griffith’s mouth was dry like the Sahara. He should have intervened. He really should, but what gave him the right to police Nisha’s choices?

  Why did it have to be Mark, though? Weren’t there any other hot guys living in the area?

  A loud ringing of a phone startled Griffith, and Mark pulled out a mobile phone. He didn’t even look up at them from the screen. “Sorry, we can continue another time, I’ve got to take this,” he said, rising to his feet.

  He walked off into the corridor as he picked up the call, but when he spoke Nisha and Griff eyed each other with open mouths. It sounded like fluent Italian.

  Could Mark be any more of a heartthrob?

  Chapter 4 - Mark

  Maybe Mark should get a poster or something?

  The apartment was nice enough but so painfully bare it seemed to exist just to taunt him. It wasn’t even empty like a hotel room. It was devoid of personality, and he had no idea what to do about it. Should he even bother decorating? Living with Seth and Domenico, he’d never had to face that question much, as they took up so much space with all their stuff, and even with their presence alone, that he could peacefully exist in whatever they created.

  Here, it was just him.

  It was yet another sunny October morning, and he sat around with his breakfast of coffee and cigarettes because he’d been too lazy to buy something fresh from the supermarket. Domenico had been right all along. Seth had made their house a home, and only now did Mark appreciate it all.

  Last year, for his birthday, Seth had prepared an amount of food to feed an army, and they’d spent the whole day barely getting up from the table. He’d played with Angelica, they talked about plans for the future into the late hours of the night, and even Domenico had allowed himself to get a bit drunk. All that with the accompaniment of a constantly refreshed table. Pretzels, muffins, gelato, and Mark’s birthday cake - a salted caramel delight, covered in popcorn. He salivated at the memory of it.

  This year? It would be just him and his coffee.

  Prior to meeting Seth and Domenico in those dirty public restrooms in Louisiana, Mark was happy if he had Poptarts to toast, or even a chocolate bar, but the life of relative luxury and home-cooked dinners eaten in company had spoiled him. Now his daily meals were comprised of sandwiches, takeouts, and microwave meals. Those, he also ‘enjoyed’ alone.

  It had only taken a couple of days for Mark to start moving the warmed food from plastic trays to plates, just because it reminded him of home, but he still dined while watching television. Silence was hard to stand, and on his birthday, it was making him even more miserable.

  He often drove to the stables and rode Guerrero, but he wouldn’t lie to himself and compare the black stallion to human company. And it wasn’t like he didn’t talk to people there or at college, but no matter how chilled out Mark seemed when he wanted, an invisible wall was a constant presence between him and others. Everyone was perfectly polite, but that didn’t equal a connection.

  The only person who could understand what he was going through didn’t want to have anything to do with him. Bitterness about the complete rejection spilled into his life and his daily interactions, poisoning everything. He’d come all the way to the UK to see what could have been, and this was it. Charlotte had a perfectly normal life, a fiancé, friends at university and a lovely white horse, while he sat in the empty apartment on his own. Sulking. The tall ceilings that had first impressed him with the sense of space, now only induced anxiety.

  The coffee tasted bitter and fake, because he couldn’t bother buying a decent espresso machine or even a French press. (Who had he become that he cared about such stuff?) He could have picked up a fresh cup at one of the numerous independent cafés in the area, but the lack of motivation he’d woken up with prevented him from doing even this much. Besides, he’d probably have to smile in a café, so he prefered to avoid the whole thing.

  After discovering that Charlotte was no longer single, he’d experienced a brief boost of energy, which spurred him on to follow her to spot any cracks in the flawless surface of her relationship. He’d been eager to intervene, save her from the boredom of a life with an average guy, but she seemed happy. Mark found no cracks. Not even a scratch. The two of them didn’t even raise their voices when they quarreled—and he knew because he had bugged Chris’s apartment.

  Who was he to try and wreck her happiness for selfish reasons? And what would he do that for in the first place if Charlotte wasn’t even interested in talking to him, or asking how he’d coped? How he’d lost one eye. She wanted to have nothing to do with him. What had he been thinking in the first place when he decided to come here?

  He was a stain on her life. No wonder she wanted him to stay away.

  At least on weekdays, Mark had college and photography classes to distract him. It was on Sundays that his thoughts were always darkest.

  The distinct sound of a Skype call made him groan. There were only two pe
ople who knew it was his birthday today. He hesitated for a second, unsure if he was in the mood to talk, but the loneliness of his soulless apartment pulled him toward the computer. He sat cross-legged on the floor, in the corner where he’d left the laptop and answered the call.

  Domenico’s face filled the screen. Dressed in a pale suit and a white shirt with a blue pattern, he was a bit more chic than usual. “Seth, I’ve got him!”

  “Am I that hard to catch?” Mark asked and took a long drag of smoke.

  “Oh, hey Mark! Happy birthday!” Seth came into view with a wide smile. Just like Domenico, he was dressed in pale colors, though his outfit comprised of a tight T-shirt and blue jeans.

  “Twenty-one. No longer a kid, huh?” Dom teased. “You got anything good planned?”

  Mark shrugged. “Don’t really feel like going out.”

  “Have you been to church yet?” Domenico asked, putting his arm around Seth. He started moving, which meant they were communicating through a smartphone.

  Mark groaned. He didn’t mind church. Maybe even kinda liked the ritual of going to mass, but that only mattered with family. On his own, he couldn’t be bothered.

  “Yes.”

  “What was mass about?” Seth asked and winked at him.

  The prolonged silence had Domenico lifting his brows. “Mark, you’ve got to take those things seriously. It’s your soul we’re talking about. Don’t you want to spend eternity with us? We both confessed everything we did in the jungle. It’s all good.”

  Mark smiled and it felt as if his face wasn’t used to that expression anymore. “Eternity with you two and all that PDA? I don’t think so.”

  Seth leaned in and kissed Dom’s cheek, as if he wanted to tease Mark even more. “Don’t be such a prude. I bet you’re turning heads over there.”

  Domenico turned to look at him, and his expression was so perfectly blissful Mark felt something knot at the pit of his stomach. What if he never found the kind of person Seth was for Dom? What is he was unlovable? He couldn’t be truly honest with anyone, so how could he even hope for this kind of connection?