Well, too bad for Mark, Cal was oblivious. And not the least bit gay or bi. But luckily, Isaiah figured he was quite the consolation prize. He’d help Mark forget Cal, get rid of his pesky virginity, and wake up sore. Everybody wins.
The emcee signaled for people to take their seats for dinner, forcing Isaiah to head back to the bridal table since he was one of the groomsmen like Mark. Not the best man, and that had stung a little, Cal choosing a college friend, claiming he’d throw the better bachelor party. Fuck that noise. Isaiah had grown up with Cal. That should count for something. And Danielle hadn’t even had the grace to sit him next to Mark, instead surrounding him on both sides with two sorority sisters of hers who talked around him like he wasn’t even there.
But then the best thing happened as his eyes caught Mark’s down at the other end of the table. And Mark smiled at him, a sympathetic quirk of the mouth, like he too wanted to escape his dinner companions. Isaiah loved Mark’s smile, loved how it made him feel like they were partners in crime or something, even if they were just out on a tuxedo shop run or other errand together. And right now, that smile was everything as it gave him hope that maybe his plan could work.
The key was going to be catching Mark alone. Finally after the dinner, and the interminable speeches, and the start of the dancing when he had to watch Mark dance with two different bridesmaids, he watched Mark slip outside, heading into the historic gardens that ringed the ballroom. He gave him a few moments’ head start, then snuck off after him, catching up to him on a brick path near a stone grotto.
“You looking for a place to smoke?” He didn’t bother trying to sneak up on Mark—the guy’s well-honed senses had probably been aware of him since before Isaiah’s feet left the patio. Sure enough, Mark didn’t look all that surprised to see him.
“That’ll kill you slow.” Mark gave him a stern look. Darn. That had seemed like a good opening—all the military guys on TV seemed to smoke when stressed. “And don’t even ask if I can get you something from the bar—I already promised Cal I wouldn’t.”
“Cal doesn’t want me to have any fun. And it’s not fair. He and Danielle party all the freaking time.” Isaiah still wasn’t entirely sure what Danielle’s job was beyond professional socialite, always dragging Cal to this or that event, where they’d come back trashed in the wee hours of the morning. Mark should be more concerned with Cal’s liver than Isaiah’s lungs.
“You’ll have plenty of time for it when you get to college. And just take it slow, yeah?”
Slow was most definitely not what Isaiah wanted. Fast. Hard. Reckless. He wanted all that and more with Mark. But what he needed right now was a way to get Mark to stop sounding so much like a big brother. Music filtered out from reception.
“We should dance.” He gave Mark what he hoped was a winning smile.
“Dance?” Mark’s eyes bulged like Isaiah had suggested a cockroach-stomping competition.
“Yeah. I saw you teaching that bridesmaid Heidi how to waltz. I want to learn too. Unless you’re too chicken to dance with a guy?”
As he’d hoped, Mark made a scoffing noise. “I’m not chicken. But I only know how to lead.”
“That’s fine.” Isaiah stepped closer. He’d follow Mark anywhere. Mark could lead all damn night as far as he was concerned. “Teach me.”
Mark’s mouth twitched like he was thinking hard. Finally he sighed and held out his hands. “Okay.” His big hand was warm and solid in Isaiah’s, no timidness in his grip like the few times Isaiah had attempted this with Bree at school dances. “It’s actually pretty simple. Just follow me. We’re going to make a box.”
Isaiah tried to focus on Mark’s words, but it was hard when he could feel his body heat, could smell his spicy aftershave—something with oranges and cinnamon, not unlike the tea Aunt Cecily loved, and he could drink Mark in all night. The song was a mega-popular eighties ballad, and it was perfect for the slow, careful way Mark led him around the brick path.
“You’re a natural,” Mark praised as they turned.
“Better than Heidi?” Isaiah couldn’t resist a bit of cheek.
Mark laughed at that, the low sound Isaiah couldn’t get enough of. “Far better.”
“Where’d you learn to dance?” he asked, not wanting the lesson to end.
“My mom insisted. Yacht club functions.” Mark made a face. “Mom never met a club that wasn’t worth joining.”
“Heard your dad bought a plane. Are they over the yacht phase?” Isaiah tried to act like Mark’s loaded parents weren’t hella intimidating. In addition to the beach house on Coronado where Mark had largely grown up, they had a yacht that had hosted Cal and Danielle’s engagement dinner, and now apparently, they’d added a “small” plane to their list of rich people distractions.