High Life | ✔️

25

LIFE IS A series of unexplained events. And the sight of Marc in the lobby of the female accommodations bring new meaning to the quote.

I didn't believe my eyes at first - chose not to. But then he lifted his cap and started running a hand through his hair. I did a double take, because the sight of Marc was just fucking surreal. I thought we said our goodbyes and I'd made peace with Skype calls as means of confiding in my confidant.

I in turned offered him no 'hello, no 'how are you?', no 'its been a long time, Marc', most definitely no 'why are you here?'.

"How the fuck did you get in?" I hissed.

Marc was nothing like the prep-school snobs here. Where most males here wore designer brands and left a capitalistic footprint on the ground they tread, Marc wore bruises and scars and left a path of reverent (frightened, judgmental, worried - take your pick) facial expressions in his wake.

I sighed as I plopped down beside him. I said it before, I'll say it again: it felt fucking surreal.

"I just walked in, why?" He turned to look at me. His eyes landed on my hair first, then my eyes, then the Calculus textbook that I hugged to my chest.

"They didn't stop you?"

"Were they supposed to?"

Marc looked tired. Not from sleep deficiency, from something with a larger scale of importance than one's physical needs. He smelled like cigarette smoke. I, I - I hugged him.

"God, I miss you," I mumbled into his chest. "I didn't know I missed you until you showed up."

He hummed. Really wasn't one for talking.

"You, uh, you plan on leaving soon?" I asked as we pulled apart from each others' warmth.

"On Friday I fly back."

I nodded slowly.

The lobby was empty - we had common areas on every floor, which left the lobby deserted save for people who were waiting. My palms were still sweating from the earlier encounter with Jaxon. Guilt invaded my senses for an unfathomable, unexplainable, decidedly illogical reason.

"Are you gonna show me your room?"

I froze. Then, very slowly, I slid my smaller hands into his manlier ones.

"I'm not sure I can do that here."

"Why not?"

"They have rules..."

"Rules? Since when you cared?"

I blinked at him. Because fucking hell he had a point. Everything came crashing down, everything I'd done here, every single effort I put into being an upstanding member of Richmond fucking Park Academy. Since when did I care?

The thoughts were like razors, slicing cleanly through every single rationale I made for my good behavior. Blurred rationalism.

I sighed. Dispelled every recalcitrant inclination inspired by Marc's presence.

"Marc," I bit my tongue. It was so easy to be this upstanding student with strangers, because they knew close to nothing about my past. With Marc it felt innately pointless. Someone with a past like mine shouldn't be concerning herself with authority, discipline and people-pleasing of all fucking things.

He just stared, unimpressed.

The time was 10:13pm. It was a cold night, most students would be snuggled cozily in their beds. There were two CCTVs angled towards the elevator and the entrance respectively. Marc had this rugged beauty attached to him, this nonchalance present in most nihilists we see.