Chapter 1
Noah
The hotel restaurant was packed, and the noise of people’s chatter too loud for my delicate head. The band playing on top was almost unbearable and the food? Mediocre was probably a suitable description. Lukewarm, straight off the extensive buffet, and would no doubt make my stomach revolt later tonight. Still? I was sitting here daydreaming, watching the table over by the open windows. A party of men, all laughing and toasting and smiling. Quite entertaining, but I wasn’t interested in the group, the table or the way one of them was standing on the tabletop wriggling his slim hips. No, I was watching the quiet one, sat on his own, looking anything but thrilled with the dancing guy’s antics. The man atthe end of the table was stunning. He wasn’t particularly tall, but slim and shapely. Perhaps he spent time in the gym, judging by the shape of those shoulders. His face, though? Delicate features framed by perfect bleach-blond ringlets. I wanted to saylike a girlbut stopped my thoughts right there, biting my lip to stop myself smiling.
Cute. He was…very cute. Perfect features. The kind of guy who took my breath away. Also the kind of guy I would never ever dare approach, or God forbid, talk to.
“Are you listening, Noah?” My mother woke me from my thoughts that were once again derailing. “You said Tenerife was boring last year, so we thought we would go a bit more upmarket. Have a different clientele with more people your age to socialise with.”
Really, Mother?
I was fully aware that I was sat here drifting in my head and sulking for no reason. Some people saved all their lives to do things like this. Travel across the world so they could sit in some godforsaken sandpit and be pampered by underpaid waiters and treated like royalty.
My parents? They were enjoying every second so far, bopping gently in their chairs as the entertainment setup in the corner played classics from the eighties, the singer screeching out the lyrics in broken English. He was wearing an open shirt and a bandana. Even I knew how ridiculous he looked. Me.
Me. Who was born missing that vital gene. How to dress myself. How to style my hair. How to be…
Yes. I was not going there. And yes, I was also fully aware that going on holiday with your parents was weird. I was well on my way into middle age, and my parents were retired yet still young enough to manage themselves, but then… Dad struggled to walk. Mum got nervous with the long-haul flights, and anyway. It was tradition now, wasn’t it? Every summer, a few weeks off work and Mum would book somewhere nice. And this year? Extra nice, apparently. Hence, here we were. All-inclusive on a tiny island, where if I wanted to get away? Ugh. If I wanted to get off this sandy blot in the ocean, there was only one way to go. Swim.
We’d been here for less than twelve hours, and I already wanted to…swim away. And here I was sat chewing my lip, staring at ringlet-bloke across the room. The lot of them at that table were now toasting in shots and laughing. Ringlet-bloke? He had his delicate chin in his hand, staring at the rest of them like he couldn’t believe the cheek of them. They were pointing at him, and he was throwing his hands in the air and obviously trying to scold them for whatever they had said. Maybe for their rowdy behaviour. He was obviously trying to rein them in and tone the whole spectacle they were performing down a notch or two. Shushing them and throwing his hands in the air in defeat.
I wish I could hear what they were saying.
“Darling, have some more food. That chicken was delightful.” Mum nodded towards the buffet area, the smells once again hitting my nostrils the wrong way. I was tired. I was jet-lagged, and I felt positively sick to my stomach.
“This is perfect.” Dad patted his stomach. “Beer and food. Entertainment on tap. Son, look at all the young people out there by the pool. You should go and mingle. Socialise.”
“Yes.”
No. I didn’t want to disappoint him by saying something rude, especially since he and Mum had paid for all this and booked it and apparently had done all the research so we could have the best of the best. But. This was a… I cringed. A honeymoon destination. A couples’ paradise, and it hadn’t escaped me how the sunbeds around the pool had been laid out. In twos. How the menu advertised couples’ cocktails. How everything was so nicely intimate and romantic.
I’d hated it from the moment we’d stepped off the transfer boat. Hated the weirdness of the… Had I really booked a single room? Just one of me?
Yes. Just me.
Mum had laughed. I hadn’t.
“You should think about that dog, Son. A dog really makes a home.”
My father. Again, random, like the next sentence out of his mouth would be about ice hockey, and then next he would ask to discuss the latest angina medication.
I didn’t want to discuss anything. I wanted to go back to my room and forget where I was.
“I think that must be a stag party,” my mother mused, nudging me. “It’s all men.”
“Probably,” I agreed, as my father laughed.
“Or a bunch of gentlemen who like the company of other gentlemen,” my father eloquently suggested.
“Gay men,” my mother agreed.
“Come on.” I covered my face with my hands and rubbed my poor, sweaty stubble. I needed to shave because I was too hot in the sticky evening heat. Everything felt damp and wet, my shirt clinging to my skin. Sweat dripping down my back. The beard? I wanted it off, right now. But then a clean face made me seem younger than I was. I liked the stubble. I liked…
Hiding.
“Oh darling.” My mother smiled. “We know you prefer the company of men. It’s not a crime.”
“In some places in the world? It is.”
