Heat Stroke (Beach Kingdom 2)

They lapsed into silence again, but it wasn’t remotely quiet in Marcus’s head. Jamie wanted me to suck him off. That fact had already been obvious, but simply hearing Jamie say it was almost like being back on the couch in his apartment, mouth against mouth.

“We’ll talk later, okay?”

Marcus nodded.

Jamie hesitated.

“You can see my boner, can’t you?”

“Yup,” Jamie confirmed. “Go walk it off before you come back into the bar.”

“Okay, Jamie.”

The next six hours went by at a snail’s pace. Normally half of Long Beach would be on the boardwalk or eating at one of the open-air cafes. Tonight, they were all piled inside, creating an impenetrable wall of bodies between Marcus and the bar, which he did not like whatsoever, but he couldn’t dwell on it while checking at least four hundred IDs at the door. The waitresses waded through the sea of people with trays over their heads, an abundance of beer was spilled on the floor and the Prince brothers didn’t come up for air until at least two o’clock in the morning when the crowds finally started to thin out.

As soon as they were down to a few dozen stragglers, Rory peaced out from his post behind the bar, grabbed Olive off her reserved stool and carried her into the back office, slamming the door behind them. Andrew started counting up credit card receipts and signaled for Marcus to stop letting in new customers, which he was more than happy to do. An hour later, they’d ushered the remaining drunks out of the bar, making sure they all had Ubers waiting—and then, silence.

Jamie poured a pint of Sam Adams and set it on the bar, gesturing at Marcus. “Have one while I finish up.”

Andrew gave them both a look of speculation, but continued to count cash from the registers and make notations on a clipboard. Marcus was too curious about why Jamie wanted to speak to him to taste even one sip, but he made an effort to finish it. Rory and Olive came out of the back office after a while, Olive looking dazed, Rory seeming like he wasn’t even remotely finished with her. Andrew shook his head and told them to go home.

“You, too, Jamie. I’ll lock up.”

Jamie glanced over from where he was combining two half-empty liquor bottles into one. “You sure?”

Andrew waved him off but watched Jamie and Marcus with interest as they walked out of the Castle Gate together a few minutes later.

“Jesus,” Jamie muttered, stepping out onto the boardwalk, the wind picking up his hair and throwing it around. “I’m going to get the third degree from Andrew in the morning.”

“Yeah?” Marcus gave a jerky roll of his shoulder. “What are you going to tell him?”

“Nothing you don’t want me to say. Promise,” Jamie said with a tight smile. “I’ll tell them I’m just helping you out with the juice shop.”

Marcus nodded his thanks, even though there was a pit of discomfort in his stomach over Jamie lying on his behalf. Having to hide something about himself because Marcus wanted to hide. “I sign the lease this week.”

Jamie brightened a little. “Great. Do you…want me to come along?”

Relief made Marcus groan up at the rainclouds that still lingered above. “Would you? I’ve been having nightmares about reading all those tiny words.”

“Sounds like I should be there,” Jamie said dryly.

The tightness Marcus had been experiencing all day in his chest relaxed. That wounded look Jamie had gotten on his face last night when Marcus pushed him away was no longer flashing in his head every two seconds. Jamie was still planning to help him with the shop and he already had a guarantee they were hanging out next week. Normally he would have been ecstatic. And he couldn’t deny the anticipation of being around Jamie—it was there like a hot ripple in his gut. But before last night happened, he’d resolved to stay away. Because Jamie deserved better. Better than someone like Marcus who…God, would he deny a relationship with Jamie, if push came to shove? Could he hurt him like that?

“So,” Marcus asked, his voice sounding hoarse to his own ears. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

Jamie stopped at the railing of the boardwalk, bracing himself on his forearms. He started to speak but broke off on a huffed laugh. “I like reading about people having serious conversations, but I hate them in real life.”

Marcus leaned sideways against the railing, facing Jamie. “Is it serious?”

“Yeah,” Jamie muttered, scratching his chin. “Listen, Marcus. Like I said, I take full responsibility for what happened last night. You’ve expressed to me that you’re not ready for anything close to what we did, or at the very least comfortable with it. So that was all on me.” He adjusted his glasses. “You were trying to put some distance between us and I should have let that happen. It probably would have been for the best. But, um…you’re my friend. Or something. And despite whatever else is there between us, I…” He gave a long exhale. “Like you as a friend, too. Or something.”