My Prince by Anna Martin Page A

earlier. He had his laptop out and there was a large mug of coffee at his elbow. He seemed deep in concentration. George almost loathed to interrupt him.
    Before he had chance to discreetly back away, Alex looked up and grinned when he saw Doug and George standing together.
    “Hi,” he said, rising and moving to make room for George. “Did you have fun?”
    “It was very educational,” George said drily, making Alex laugh.
    “I bet. Doug?”
    “Twenty-one,” he said cryptically. “See you later, princess.”
    Alex laughed. “Later.”
    George watched Doug leave, his hips swinging in his tight designer jeans. “Twenty-one?” he asked when Doug was out of earshot. “What does that mean? Is it like a score?”
    “Yeah,” Alex said. “I’m sorry. It’s a stupid thing we do in clubs. An out-of-ten scale is too easy for people to interpret, so we work on an out-of-twenty-five.”
    “And I scored twenty-one?”
    “Yeah. That’s the highest anyone’s got in quite a while, you know. You should be honored.”
    “I’m ecstatic,” George deadpanned.
    Alex pulled a face and poked him in the side. “He was teasing. He likes you. He already texted me to say so.”
    “Really?”
    “Really.”
    “Hey, can I take you somewhere?” George asked.
    Alex hummed. “Sure.”
    “It’s not fancy or anything,” George said, backpedaling, trying to lower expectations.
    “I don’t mind,” Alex said with a laugh.
    “Okay. It’s not far from here.”
    “Okay.”
     
     
    T HE DAY was milder than they’d had in some time now, no rain, still cold enough to wear a scarf but it likely would be until April. George walked quickly, but that was fine, Alex did too. Their strides seemed to match, and for some reason that made Alex happy.
    “How was your afternoon?” Alex asked. He didn’t make any move to take George’s hand. It was still too new, for one, and George wouldn’t let him, for another. Not yet, anyway.
    “Good,” George mumbled. “Revelatory.”
    Alex barked a laugh. “I’m sure.”
    “He took me to a… to a bathhouse.”
    “I know.”
    “Oh.”
    “Doug told me his plans, probably to make sure I didn’t object too strongly before he followed through with them.”
    “Did you? Object, I mean.”
    “I gave him strict instructions,” Alex said, deciding it was cold after all and pulling his coat more securely around himself. “No sex.”
    “Well, yeah,” George said, like that was a foregone conclusion.
    “Are we exclusive?” Alex asked. The words came out quickly, apropos of nothing, and he almost immediately regretted them.
    George stopped. Then stepped out of the way of some tourist with a camera, closer to the café and away from the road.
    “Do you want to be?”
    “I don’t know. I’m just wondering.”
    “I’m not ready to put a label on it.”
    “‘Dating’ works just fine for me.”
    “Me too.”
    “I’m not dating anyone else,” Alex said. Another bunch of people came up toward them, and Alex put his hand on George’s arm to draw him even closer to the wall. “I don’t have any intention of sleeping with anyone else.”
    “Okay,” George said. “Then me too.”
    “Yeah?”
    “Yeah.”
    George gave him a funny sort of smile and resumed his striding off down the road. For the first few steps, Alex had to jog to catch up with him.
    “We’re almost halfway home,” Alex joked as they crossed onto South Bridge.
    “Yeah. It’s right by the university. You’re hungry, right? I’m taking you for dinner.”
    “I could eat,” Alex said lightly.
    “Good. I’m starving.”
    They crossed the road, and George stopped at a corner restaurant Alex had seen a few times before but never gone into.
    “The Mosque Kitchen,” he read. “I’ve heard of this place.”
    “It’s so good,” George enthused. “You have to get over any expectations right off the bat, but the food is definitely worth it.”
    “Indian food, right?”
    “Yeah, sort of.”
    George held open the