Chapter Eleven

A grizzled Mark waits outside my first class of the day. He leans against the wall, his long legs stretching in front of him with his gaze is fixed on the doorway I'm exiting through. Spotting me, he kicks off the wall and approaches.

I step apart from the stream of people and examine Mark. Now, on your average day, Mark is close to flawless. He dresses well, always smells good, and he's a pleasing figure to look at. Especially when he's been mussed up during sports and is all sweaty.

However, today?

I frown at him. "Did you get punched?" Now that he's closer, I can see the problem. It's a black eye and bruising along one of his cheekbones.

It's been a few days since my failed attendance at Mark's party, and I've worried about how I'll act when I see him again. I've also worried about how he'll act. I hope he's not cross.

"No," Mark replies. He stands in front of me, dark eyes darting over me in an assessing manner.

"I know the result of a good punch when I see it," I remark.

Mark just grunts.

He's not going to tell me.

"Happy birthday, by the way," I say. "I never got the chance to say it the other night."

"Thanks," Mark says and continues to stare at me. I feel like he's looking or waiting for something. Surely he knows better than to be awaiting an apology? I'd probably insult his bruised eye if I tried to force one out.

"Do you want to join me for coffee?" I ask. My voice comes out normal and I'm so damn pleased with myself that I miss the start of Mark's answer.

"—class?" he asks.

"You've got class?"

"No." His brow creases. "You've got double accounting now, right? And the professor doesn't appreciate people coming in late."

I'm glad that Mark doesn't seem to realise the heroic effort it took to invite him to coffee. Even though I am disappointed at his response, I'm still pleased that I managed to ask. If I keep this up, I might be able to sneak the word date in at some point. I shrug. "Never mind, then."

"Whoa, no, no, wait , " Mark says, flustered. "Don't ‘never mind' me—I wasn't saying no. I'm just making sure you're not missing anything important."

"I wouldn't have invited you if that was the case."

"Good. Okay. Let's get coffee."

I think for a moment. "Do you want to go into the city?" If we sit down in the cafeteria, there's a good chance one of my friends—or one of his—will spot and join us. And then I'll probably be mean.

"Sounds good." Mark grins. "What about the cat cafe downtown?"

We start walking, Mark setting his hand on my lower back to guide me in the direction of his car. I cast him a curious look. "Do you like cats?"

Mark nods. "I've wanted to check the place out for a while. How about you?"

"Yeah, I like them."

"I thought you might," Mark says. "And besides, they purr at a frequency that promotes healing." His gaze darts to my leg. "It could help with that bruising."

I roll my eyes. "The bruising is all gone, Mark."

He grunts, shrugging off my reassurance.

The cat cafe is the cosiest place I've been in the city, and I wish I learned about it sooner. I'm sitting only a second when a black fluffy cat jumps onto my lap and curls up. Several sniff at my legs—or at my left leg, at least. They seem to sense there is something amiss beneath my jeans. Mark is assailed by several kittens, and he tickles each of their bellies in turn while sipping his coffee.

The way he handles them, confident enough to knock them onto their backs in an attack, but never rough enough to harm them, speaks of past experience. "You obviously had cats growing up," I say. My siblings are all dog people, and everyone has their own big monster at the home. Truthfully, it was always a close call trying to determine who was more rambunctious: the siblings or the dogs? Chris was the sole person all dogs answered to. I've always suspected it's due to animal instinct that they obey him—after all, all of their owners did, too. Even before our parents passed away, Chris had been the one in charge.

"No, but my neighbours all did," Mark tells me. "My brother is allergic, so they were never allowed in the house. I'd always be made to shower when I came back from my friend's house with cat hairs stuck to me."

I snort. I'm surprised the cat hair dared to try to mar Mark's impeccable appearance.

"Is he older or younger?"

"Older."

"So you were the spoiled youngest?" I ask.

Mark winces at the question. It draws my eye to his black eye. "Not exactly," he says. "I was the well-behaved child until I realised I hated doing what I was told. Now I'm the rebellious one." He rolls his eyes, his tone lightly mocking. "Somehow, an architecture course is the height of rebellion to my parents. They wanted me to do business. And my brother wants me to do any job where he can monitor me twenty-four seven."

I process the words. "I can't picture anyone controlling you."

Mark's expression brightens as he casts me a lopsided smile. "Good."

"Why don't you get a cat?" I ask. It's obvious that he likes them. "You're not living at home anymore."

"If Eddie wasn't throwing a party every other weekend, I would."

"Is that black eye from the party?"

Mark stares at me. I didn't manage to catch him unaware. "I took an elbow during basketball yesterday."

Basketball, which Tommy also goes to. "You two fought again?"

"It wasn't a fight," Mark's tone is prickly all of a sudden, but I don't get the sense that it's me he's angry with.

I let the topic drop. I sip the rest of my coffee and make room on my lap for the calico kitten climbing my leg like a tree. She uses my left leg as the climbing pole. There's no flesh to feel her claws on until she's at my knee, and even then there's the sleeve and lining creating a barrier to her claws.

I tickle the kitten's chin and eye Mark. His attention is on the kittens, and he looks at them with a soft expression.

"How long did you and Louis date?"

Mark jolts, almost knocking all the fluff balls from his lap. His head jerks toward me in a sharp movement. The cats by his feet scatter. "We never went out," he denies.

"You didn't?" I ask, confused. "But I heard you did?"

"I—it wasn't dating," Mark says, so emphatically that I'm a touch offended on Louis's behalf. "We hooked up a few times, nothing more. And it was before you and he became friends. I've never pursued any of your friends, ever. And I haven't dated anyone since starting college."

"Oh." I deflate. "You only hook-up with people?"

"Yes," Mark says.

It's disappointing news. I've been trying to work up to asking him out for a date. I don't think I'd manage to ask him out for a hook-up…not that I'd want to, anyway. I can't imagine just sleeping with a person, and not wanting anything more to go with it. I've heard plenty from my brothers to know I'm not with the general family thought in that regard, and I know even Chris has slept with people without any emotional connection to them. But it makes me squirm.

"I see," I say, returning my attention to the cats, glad for the distraction. I shouldn't be only disappointed. It was better to feel Mark out first before I took the leap.

"No," Mark continues, speaking fast. "I mean, that's all I've done so far in college. I don't mean that I'm against the idea of dating. I only mean I won't date just anyone."

"Okay?"

"So, if someone I'm interested in asks me out, I would be all for it," Mark insists, leaning forward, resting his elbows against his knees.

"Right."

"Right," Mark echoes. He watches me, his heel bouncing—disturbing all the cats around the table—as he waits expectantly. "So?" he prompts.

"I wasn't judging you, Mark," I say. "Not everyone wants something serious."

Mark leans back slowly, chest rising and falling as he takes in a deep breath and rubs his mouth. "I'm getting the bill," he says. He curses under his breath as he walks away from the table. I think I hear, "I fucked that."

He's clearly irritated when he returns, and the cats keep their distance.

I eye him. "Do you have plans for the weekend?"

Mark's gaze snaps to my face and the floor is spared from his scowl. "No. Nothing. Why? What are you doing?"

"Oh. I guess I won't see you."

Mark shifts in his seat, a confused expression flitting across his face. "What do you mean?"

"I'm going to the volleyball tournament—to watch and support. I thought you would be there." I shrug.

"I'll be there," Mark says without missing a beat.

I steel myself internally. I don't think I'm misreading Mark, but I'm nervous just the same. "Do you want to go for a drink together after?" It doesn't sound any different from when I suggested coffee. Say it, say it, say it . My jaw tightens instead.

Mark's eyes dart down, and I'm sure he sees me tense up. The kitten I've been playing with doesn't seem to care and launches a vicious attack on my fingers.

"Just us?" Mark asks.

My jaw is still tight, and I'm too worried about what might come out if I unscrew it, so I nod instead.

Mark's expression lights up. "Sounds good."