glanced at him, then pulled out another cigarette. For just a flash, Brendan thought he saw Marc’s fingers tremble as he lit it. Then his casual stance returned, leaning against the wall, looking anywhere but at Brendan. “Trying to. On a fiancée visa. Once it’s approved and we get married, I can stay.”
Brendan’s lips tightened. “So she’s an American. Your fiancée.”
Marc nodded.
“Are you marrying her for a green card?”
Marc turned and glared at him.
Shit. Did I just say that? Brendan tried to calm his pounding heart, but he could feel the anger he’d been suppressing ever since Friday night bubbling up, tapping at his temples. His mother always told him he needed to learn to clamp his mouth when he was angry. He tended to spill every last thought in his mind when he was pissed at someone, then regretted it later.
“If we get married,” Marc said icily, “then yes, I will have a green card.”
Brendan chuckled, raising his eyebrows. “Well. That’s not exactly what I asked you though, was it?”
“I didn’t know I was on trial, Your Honor.”
Brendan took a step toward him. “Well maybe you should be.”
“Who are you to question me?” Marc looked him up and down. “It’s not your business.”
“Why did you sleep with me?” he blurted out.
Marc paused, the cigarette halfway to his mouth. He lowered it, shaking his head. “No one forced you to go to bed with me, Brendan. You went home with a stranger. Cross-examine yourself.”
Brendan let out a breath, relaxing his shoulders. “Yeah. I went home with a stranger. I guess it was just my bad luck that you’re an expert at seduction with your garden spiders and your freaking tropical island getaway in the spare bedroom. And the fiancée you neglected to mention.”
Marc huffed. “You really don’t get laid much, do you?” He flicked the cigarette onto the sidewalk, sneering at it as though it disgusted him suddenly. “What difference does it make why it happened? It happened.”
“I guess I was just curious. I mean, if you’re engaged—”
“What do you want to hear?” Marc turned and faced him. “Do you want me to tell you how wonderful you are, how desirable? I have the feeling you hear that often enough. Go find someone else to stroke your ego. Pick up a stranger that will be more grateful for your attentions.”
Brendan shook his head. “I don’t need grateful. I’d settle for honest. Ciao , Marcello .”
He turned and started to walk away.
“Brendan?”
Brendan stopped and turned back.
“I have to go to work at the restaurant for a few hours tonight. If you’re not busy, perhaps I can come by your place later.”
Brendan scowled and stepped slowly back toward Marc. “You want to come over? Tonight?”
He shrugged. “I was rude to you again. I’m sorry. I’ll bring you a pizza. Bibeta’s makes the best pizza in Providence.”
“Pizza?” Brendan laughed. “Marc, you say horrible things to me, and then you turn around and apologize. I don’t get you, you’re...you’re...”
Marc stepped toward him. “I’m what?”
“You’re bewildering!”
A grin tilted Marc’s lips. “Bewildering.”
“Yes. Bewildering.”
“Well, I’ve been called far worse.”
“I know nothing about you, Marc, you won’t even tell me how long you’ve been in the country, where you’re from, why you want to see me tonight instead of your fiancée. I don’t think these questions are too personal considering you want to come to my home.”
Marc grasped Brendan by the jacket, and with surprising strength, dragged him aside into the darkened alcove between two buildings.
“What are you—”
Marc kissed him, his body pushing Brendan’s back against the cool stone wall. The kiss was quick, forceful, a lick of hot tongue that made Brendan’s heart pound and his breath leave him. Marc broke the kiss abruptly. “Brendan. You talk too much.”
Marc left the alcove, and Brendan stumbled back out onto the
Brendan’s lips tightened. “So she’s an American. Your fiancée.”
Marc nodded.
“Are you marrying her for a green card?”
Marc turned and glared at him.
Shit. Did I just say that? Brendan tried to calm his pounding heart, but he could feel the anger he’d been suppressing ever since Friday night bubbling up, tapping at his temples. His mother always told him he needed to learn to clamp his mouth when he was angry. He tended to spill every last thought in his mind when he was pissed at someone, then regretted it later.
“If we get married,” Marc said icily, “then yes, I will have a green card.”
Brendan chuckled, raising his eyebrows. “Well. That’s not exactly what I asked you though, was it?”
“I didn’t know I was on trial, Your Honor.”
Brendan took a step toward him. “Well maybe you should be.”
“Who are you to question me?” Marc looked him up and down. “It’s not your business.”
“Why did you sleep with me?” he blurted out.
Marc paused, the cigarette halfway to his mouth. He lowered it, shaking his head. “No one forced you to go to bed with me, Brendan. You went home with a stranger. Cross-examine yourself.”
Brendan let out a breath, relaxing his shoulders. “Yeah. I went home with a stranger. I guess it was just my bad luck that you’re an expert at seduction with your garden spiders and your freaking tropical island getaway in the spare bedroom. And the fiancée you neglected to mention.”
Marc huffed. “You really don’t get laid much, do you?” He flicked the cigarette onto the sidewalk, sneering at it as though it disgusted him suddenly. “What difference does it make why it happened? It happened.”
“I guess I was just curious. I mean, if you’re engaged—”
“What do you want to hear?” Marc turned and faced him. “Do you want me to tell you how wonderful you are, how desirable? I have the feeling you hear that often enough. Go find someone else to stroke your ego. Pick up a stranger that will be more grateful for your attentions.”
Brendan shook his head. “I don’t need grateful. I’d settle for honest. Ciao , Marcello .”
He turned and started to walk away.
“Brendan?”
Brendan stopped and turned back.
“I have to go to work at the restaurant for a few hours tonight. If you’re not busy, perhaps I can come by your place later.”
Brendan scowled and stepped slowly back toward Marc. “You want to come over? Tonight?”
He shrugged. “I was rude to you again. I’m sorry. I’ll bring you a pizza. Bibeta’s makes the best pizza in Providence.”
“Pizza?” Brendan laughed. “Marc, you say horrible things to me, and then you turn around and apologize. I don’t get you, you’re...you’re...”
Marc stepped toward him. “I’m what?”
“You’re bewildering!”
A grin tilted Marc’s lips. “Bewildering.”
“Yes. Bewildering.”
“Well, I’ve been called far worse.”
“I know nothing about you, Marc, you won’t even tell me how long you’ve been in the country, where you’re from, why you want to see me tonight instead of your fiancée. I don’t think these questions are too personal considering you want to come to my home.”
Marc grasped Brendan by the jacket, and with surprising strength, dragged him aside into the darkened alcove between two buildings.
“What are you—”
Marc kissed him, his body pushing Brendan’s back against the cool stone wall. The kiss was quick, forceful, a lick of hot tongue that made Brendan’s heart pound and his breath leave him. Marc broke the kiss abruptly. “Brendan. You talk too much.”
Marc left the alcove, and Brendan stumbled back out onto the
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