Where Do Broken Hearts Go?

29. Sleeping With The Enemy

A couple of days pass and I find myself in Tim's picking up an Original Blend. I'm giving myself a break from the sweet lattes. I was starting to feel funny in the head. I ran out of coffee yesterday and didn't make it to the store after work. I had a dentist's appointment and was going through our final book project for the month.

"This has to be my favorite of the three," Halci announces as she joins me at our table with coffee.

"It's very sexy." I smile, knowing that's the reason why. "Thank you." I slide the hot cup closer to me after she sets it on a napkin.

"Who doesn't like a little sexytime?" With her foot, Halci scoots her seat back before taking it. "You would know." She uses both hands to showcase my diamond ring.

"Ha." I give the sparkly treasure a glance – at least I tried. My eyes pull back to the ring just as I'm swallowing the lump in my throat. "Yeah." I bump my brows as I resume reading through the digital manuscript.

"I also like it because it's not too raunchy, ya know? Some books can overdo it and it's straight-up disgusting. Yuck." The spiky blonde's face scrunches up as she sticks out her coffee-stained tongue.

"Well, it just depends on the author's intentions. It depends on the sex." I shrug. "Was it a drunk one night stand? Was it a wedding night? Their first time?" I wave my coffee before it reaches my mouth. Sitting a finger on my lips, I come up with another scenario. "I haven't seen you in a while s-sex." I stutter as I see Marcel on his way over. Just as my mouth closes, my teeth grind against each other.

"Oooo." He softly flinches with a cheeky smile. "I haven't seen you in a while sex. That's always good. Right up there with makeup sex." He pulls out a seat and sits down – uninvited. "Hello, I'm Marcel." He extends his hand to Halci.

"Halci."

"Halci." He's intrigued by the name. So much that he takes his time to pronounce it; making her giggle over his accent. He's a charmer for sure. "Hey, Angel." His eyes narrow as he turns my way, releasing her hand. I bite my tongue to keep myself from biting his head off.

Halci's mouth opens as she turns away from Marcel to speak to me, but it seems that her eyes are late to the party, because they linger on his peeking, tatted chest. "Angel, is this your husband?" As her elbow rests on the table, she rubs her index finger and thumb together. 

Stung by the title, I try taking a breath before denying, but I can't speak quickly enough.

"Yes–"

"No." I shut both of them down. "He is not my husband," I say as I stare at Marcel. "What do you want?" I ask as calmly as I can. Somehow, it still sounds like a low hiss.

As he pouts, he rests his cheek in his palm. "I miss you." I would have liked the sound of that if he wasn't being so fucking smug. He ruins everything. "You don't miss me, baby?" The raspiness re-enters his deep voice as he reaches for my hand, but I snatch it away. OOOoooooo fuck! This kid is throwing me. He plays too much.

"Marcel, get away from me." I debate packing my things.

Marcel pulls his lips into his mouth as he readjusts in the chair. "I haven't seen you in two weeks."

"You saw me on Tuesday."

"I didn't get to talk to you. So," He vainly shrugs. "I haven't seen you." 

Without breaking me and Marcel's tension-filled stare, I request my co-worker's absence.

"Halci, can you give us a second?"

"No, she can stay." He allows.

Once I look over to her, she's already getting up. "Thanks." I wait for Halci to distant herself and when she does, I mush Marcel's face. "Get away from me." I sit back as he chuckles. He's nothing, but an act.

"We have to stop doing this."

As I hold my coffee, I lean over it to hiss again. "Doing what?"

"Don't you see?" He snickers. "We'll go on a trip, come back, and act like enemies. Then, we get back right and go on the next trip." He seems to have it all figured out. "Stop it, Angel." He sits with his arms folded on the table.

"You have a problem. I'm still trying to figure it out." I narrow my eyes as I scan his. "Why do you pull this shit?"

"What am I doing?" Marcel's smug behavior begins to fade as he nods his head, preparing for the coming read.

"You get mad at nothing and hold it against me. Then, when you're done being mad, you act all smug like this – a dick. What the hell did I do to you, wave?" I put the issue on the table. He doesn't say anything. "What is it? You're confusing me. I haven't done anything to you."

"You're doing something." He faintly acknowledges.

"What?" I wait for a second, but become more frustrated once I see that he's shutting down. The ocean's green waves drift away. I'm left with only wet sand and washed away progress. "Okay." I accept his altered mood. 

Marcel's eyes drift back to mine as he asks, "Where are we going nex-"

"I'm not going anywhere with you."

Impassive, lifeless, blank, and cold. I hate this side of him. Geez, give me back the laugh at the wind Marcel. The carefree one whose mission is to keep a smile on my face. Who is this person?

"You're not going?" He seems to feel disrespected by my denial; entitled in a way. I shake my head, cementing the rejection. "Is this about the chick?"

"I didn't say anything about her. I don't know her."

"You're mad."

"Why would I be?" I shrug with the beverage in my hand. "You seemed to be having a nice time despite the death stare towards me. You were plotting my murder."

"I can assure you I wasn't." I know he wasn't, but his tone sure isn't convincing.

"She was cute. I hope you had sex with her. I would have." 

The strong statement rolls off my tongue so nice and slick, that it earns a reaction from him. I take a sip of my coffee as I peep him biting the inside of his cheek.

"Sex seems to be on your mind a lot this morning."

"I'm editing a pretty risque book." I look over to the black screen of my timed-out iPad.

"Who was the bloke with you the other day?"

With evident violation written in the lines of my forehead, my eyes drift to meet Marcel's. "None of your business."

"Be sweet, Angel."

Hold on for at least 6 seconds, Angel. I keep my hands still as my eyes pierce straight into his. He goes for the brow, then a nostrils' flare. He checks my neck for a vein of anxiety. Nothing, but strength and dismissal this morning, Mr. Thomas. You're not getting anything from me.

As I'm studying his technique, a smirk twists up the corner of my mouth. I find something in the midst of his search and he knows it. Easy. I relax in my seat as he takes a few restoring blinks. Too late, Marcel.

"I have to go." I rise to my feet and grab my things. My stomach is in knots, but there's no way for him to pick that up. I walk behind him to slide my fingers through his short hair. "Nice haircut. You look very handsome." I compliment on my way out, but he takes my wrist.

"Now, we have to talk about it." He refers to my discovery.