“Told you,” Samirah whispered to me.
I turned to her. “Isn’t there something about him that looks familiar to you?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Nope! So many people have said that, though I don’t see it.”
I looked back at Mark and tried to place this strange feeling of familiarity that he seemed to wield. But couldn’t. I scanned my mind, but it was nowhere. The veil of almost-familiarity started to lift though and soon something else started to emerge. An entirely different picture of Mark. An entirely different Mark. I was totally shocked by this revelation, because trust me, I had not seen this coming, at all.
Suddenly, strangely, Mark was just about the hottest man I’d ever seen in my life. Not hot in that typical way, but hot in a way that seemed to rise up from the inside and spill out of him. His once unremarkable brown eyes were like pools of warm, melted dark chocolate now. Thick and creamy hot chocolate on a cold night. His floppy hair was suddenly something I wanted to sink my hand into, run my fingers through. I wanted to grab a handful of it so badly, like that feeling when you see something cute, like a chubby baby, and want to bite its foot.
I was overcome with a wildly irrational need to bite him on the neck and then squeeze his cheeks so hard. And his body . . . Oh my God. His height suddenly seemed sexy and dizzying and you just wanted him towering above you, looking down at you, pushing strands of hair out of your face. And his soft hands, the way they strummed the guitar strings—well, you could imagine them strumming all sorts of other things.
I looked around again and a part of me felt terribly embarrassed to be clearly feeling the exact same thing every woman around me was feeling. I shook my head, tossing all these ridiculous thoughts out.
I scoffed loudly. I wouldnotbe taken in by any of this Mark silliness . . .
Oh, who was I kidding? I was totally taken in.
CHAPTER 34
“Can I get you guys some drinks?” Mark asked, after he’d finished playing. He was standing by our table now, hair a little wet around the hairline from sweat, cheeks reddened and his eyes wide and shining brightly. It had taken him ages to even get to our table. He’d had to weave his way through an army of adoring female fans. There didn’t seem to be any particular demographic to the adorers either. From younger fans who were all red-cheeked and coy-smiled, to older ones who seemed equally smitten.
“Sparkling water for me,” Samirah said.
“Same for me,” I echoed.
Mark leaned across the table and looked at me. “Hashtag NoWineOClock doesn’t exist here,” he said with a teasing smile.
“What’s that?” Samirah asked.
“Some internet meme thing that Frankie has fallen victim to.” He gave me a playful wink and my spine felt like it straightened.
“It’s YOU!” I heard a voice behind me and turned. The accent was unmistakable, it was definitely Scottish. Thick and sounding like all kinds of smooth, silky honey. The chef from the hotel was standing by the table. He placed a massive hand on my shoulder.
“How was your spiritual awakening. Are you woke?” he asked with a smile.
I shook my head. “But I nearly got bitten by a snake.”
“Aaaah, yes. Those pesky things in the desert. You have to be careful of them.”
“You could have warned me,” I said pointedly.
He smiled apologetically. “As long as you’re okay, lass.”
“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” I asked, a little defensively, somewhat embarrassed by how I’d behaved the last time I saw him.
“Ye was in quite a state that morning,” he replied, softer this time.
I shrugged, trying to be nonchalant about the whole thing.
“What happened?” Samirah asked, as Faizel came to the table and slipped an arm around her shoulder.
“She was taking photos of her breakfast,” he declared loudly.
Everyone looked at him blankly, as if this needed further explanation.
“She was standing on her chair, taking photos of her breakfast. She even made the napkin look pretty. She doesn’t even eat breakfast!”
Samirah and Mark looked at me, both raising their eyebrows.
