Mark shook his head, his hair falling into his face in a way that I was really starting to appreciate. I liked this casual version of him—this unpolished, unglamorous, version of him with the stubble and the floppy hair and those cute glasses that seemed just a little bit too big for him and the old worn shirts with bands’ names on. He ran his hand through his hair and swept it back up, a gesture I enjoyed watching. The way he put it all back in place, only for it to fall back down again, like it always did.
“People around here are very forgiving, you just have to make a bit of an effort.”
“Okay. I can do that, I guess.” I gave a firm nod.
“I’m heading to the store now—do you want me to drop you off at Samirah’s and then we can meet at rehearsals later?” he asked.
“Sure,” I said, trying to hide a huge smile that was spreading across my face. This was all rather odd and strange and a little exhilarating too. Playing a weird kind of house together. Breakfasts and shared bathrooms and driving into work. In all the time I’d been with Kyle, I don’t think I’d ever done this much with him. I’d done more things with Mark in the week I’d known him, than I think I’d done with Kyle in the entire two years. Well, things that actually mattered and meant something. That weren’t just for show.
My first day as a veterinary assistant hadn’t gone as planned. I’d been peed on by a nervous dog, scratched by a cat, and finally a rather forward parrot had hit on me and called me “sweet cheeks.” But it had been nice working with Samirah, learning about the different kinds of care for the various animals, and what everything in the surgery was and what it did. I also realized that because this was a small town, her veterinary business wasn’t exactly busy, but despite this, she really needed help because of her pregnancy. She’d explained that most of her work came from the nearby farms. When it was two in the afternoon we closed up for the day, unless there was an emergency. I walked over to Mark’s store with Harun.
Turns out running a music and video store in a town with no television and radio was a much busier occupation than having a veterinary practice. When the customers came in, I watched how Mark talked about movies and music to them. His face lit up as he recommended a classic horror, or when he spoke about David Bowie’s best album—in his opinion. It was nice to see. This breezy, bright side of him that seemed passionate about what he did.
His smile was adorable too, and the way he took his glasses off from time to time and polished the lenses on his shirt, and when he did that, how his shirt lifted up just enough to see a small flash of his stomach . . .
God, he had a nice stomach.Flat. Those defined lines that sort of snaked down into his jeans. That hinted at things to come . . . My face got a little hotter at my unintentional pun there. Or maybe it was intentional. Yes, crap! It was intentional. I was definitely thinking about his dick! I’d seen it the other night, and now it was all I could see when I looked at that little flash of skin on his stomach when he cleaned his glasses and . . .
“Shit! Oh my God, sorry.” I quickly looked away, my face flaming red as he caught me staring at him. How long had I been staring? How long had heknownI’d been staring? Oh, dear Lord, it had been a while. I knew that. I was officially a pervert.
“What are you looking at?” he asked in a voice that led me to believe he knewexactlywhat I was looking at.
I didn’t look at him. “Sorry. Your . . . You were . . . lifting your shirt and I was . . . uh . . .” Was running out of words. Had no idea what to say to him.
“Were objectifying me?” he asked. That sounded so horrible. And creepy. But . . . It was kind of true.
“Sort of, I guess,” I said, still looking as far away from him as possible. I could hear him coming closer to me, see the movement from the corner of my eyes. “Sorry,” I quickly added.
He stopped when he got to the counter. I was on the other side of it, acutely aware of his presence now.
“Soooooo.” He dragged that word out and I saw him lean over the counter a little towards me.
“Mmmm?” I replied, not looking at him, frantically twirling my hair around my finger nervously.
“What were you thinking?” he asked.
“Thinking?”
“Well, you were clearly thinking something while you were staring. What was it?”
I was thinking about your dick!No, I couldn’t say that. That would be wildly inappropriate.
I shook my head. “Mmmm, nothing.” I tried to sound innocent, even though I clearly had a filthy mind.
He leaned even more, and any second now, I was sure I was going to have to look at him, because focusing on that spot on the wall was making my eyes squint and sting.
“It didn’t look like nothing.” His voice had taken on a teasing tone. Wait . . . Was he flirting with me?
I forced myself to look at him, our eyes met and something,something, buzzed around us. The air seemed to have a weight to it, even a smell. We both leaned closer across the counter, our hands almost touching. We looked down and our fingers slid towards each other’s. Slowly. We stopped for a moment, mere centimeters apart. I could feel the warmth coming off his hands, zipping out the tips of his fingers and shooting over to mine, making them physically tingle. And then, as if someone had told us both to look up at the same time, we did. Our eyes found each other’s and the tips of our fingers made contact. An electrical current ran into me, traveled all the way down into my toes.
“Frankie . . .” Breathy voice. Almost a whisper.
“Yes, Mark . . .” I whispered back.
“I—”
“HEY!” A voice broke the moment, and we both pulled away from each other as if we’d been caught doing something naughty.
“Zack!” I said, looking up.
