Valon turned, holding an armful of clothes. “You should try these on.”
Marc let himself get dragged to the fitting rooms. He knew Valon would do what he wanted, and Marc needed to play along.
Valon shoved the clothes toward him and pushed him inside a room. “You’ll look great. Trust me.” He pulled the curtain closed, leaving Marc no other choice than to strip.
He felt dumb as fuck in the outrageously priced clothing. Marc knew the items had to be astronomical. They were in a store where only the richest people made it past the front door without getting turned away by security. Nothing had a price tag. If a person had to ask, they couldn’t afford it.
Marc dutifully tried on the first outfit while Valon tossed more clothes over the curtain. He looked at himself in the mirror. The outfit was definitely in line with the cool upper class.
“I look dumb as hell.” The defeat in his voice couldn’t be masked.
“I seriously doubt that. You’re not capable of looking dumb.”
“Well, I do.” He didn’t know what it was about the entire getup, but it wasn’t him. Marc looked like he played a part he had no business playing.
“Okay. Look alive. I’m coming in.”
Luckily, the room was big enough for two and the ridiculous amount of clothes Valon had waiting for him.
Valon looked him up and down, openly judging the outfit. “It’s the shirt. Here.” Valon turned. He picked through the shirts until he found another. “Take that one off and try this one.”
It was a Hawaiian blue button-down. He pulled the t-shirt up and over his head and accepted the new shirt. Marc stuck his arms through the holes while Valon watched. His gaze followedMarc’s every move. The stare was unsettling. He didn’t feel like a friend was watching him. There was something different in Valon’s eyes. Marc couldn’t put a name to the emotions he saw.
Valon blew out a slow whistle. “This is it. This is the one. That shirt perfectly matches your eyes.”
Marc glanced toward the mirror. Damn. He did look good.
Valon closed the distance between them and played with the collar.
Their gazes met and held. Heat built between them. Marc didn’t think he felt only what he wanted to feel. The tension was cloying. He was scared to move. Marc couldn’t ruin what they had. As much as he wanted more, he wasn’t unhappy with what he had. Their relationship was more than he ever dreamed could be his. Damned if Valon didn’t look like he wanted to be kissed. His eyes hooded, and it was like a magnet drew them closer. Marc felt himself sway.
“Do you have everything you need in there? Can I get you some wine?”
The spell broke. Valon turned away. “Yeah. A couple of glasses of wine sounds great.”
The disappointment nearly took his knees out. Marc knew he would spend the rest of his life replaying the moment and questioning every detail. It was possible he read too much intothings. That was what he had to tell himself. Anything else would crush him when it turned out the moment wasn’t real.
“I’ll go look for something different now that I've got a bead on your style.”
Marc slowly nodded even though Valon didn’t look back. He had been rendered mute. Marc was frozen solid until a cheery voice broke through his shock.
“I’ve got your wine.”
Marc tugged back the curtain.
A tall brunette in heels that made her eye level with him held an open bottle and two glasses. “Thanks.” His gruff tone was out of his control.
Despite his tone, she smiled and handed over the alcohol. “No problem. Let me know if you need anything else.”
Marc dipped his chin. The moment she was out of sight, he turned the bottle up, chugging half. He needed fortification if he hoped to survive the night. Hell, this shopping trip might see him dead.
Valon poured on the charm as he internally panicked. If they hadn’t been interrupted earlier, he might have really kissed Marc. Marc hadn’t seemed opposed. Valon had no clue what he was doing. He knew what he wanted, but—as always—he couldn’t get a read on Marc. The guy was way too good at hiding his feelings. He was still waters.
They picked up dinner on the way home with their haul in tow. Marc never stopped looking horrified, but he had stopped protesting. He knew Valon. Valon didn’t ask for permission. They talked all through dinner before making their way outside to sit by the pool. Valon never tired of the sound of Marc’s voice. He had to keep asking questions to keep him talking.
“What was your childhood like?”
Marc’s smile never dimmed. Valon wished he felt that way about his childhood. “Pretty typical, I suppose. My parents signed me up for every sport every year. I know they hoped to keep me out of trouble, but I still found ways to stir up shit. Everyone has a point in life where they have to rebel. It’s like wresting control from parents. Those moments that give you what you need to strike out on your own.”
