I think I missed a couple of breaths here and there and ended up choking altogether at the sight of him. I turn my head and look at the clock. It's eleven fucking AM! I was supposed to meet him at eight! Fuck!
"Marcel?" I let out, gasping for air as I can't seem to find any.
Once I get the slightest control over myself, I put my glass on the counter and look back at him. His expression hasn't changed for the slightest bit. I would have been surprised otherwise, but I am glad for his silence. I don't want to know all the things he might think about me now.
"You know him?" Ash says, walking towards me to stay between the both of us. His eyes run from one to another.
"Yeah, it's OK." I sigh and run a hand through my hair, falling wildly on my shoulders.
I can't lie, I did jump in surprise when I saw him in this flat, but it was also mostly of fear. He is surrounded by all of our clothes lying around the living room randomly, but they clearly insinuate precisely what we've done.
He clearly noticed me before I even called his name, but his sight is killing me right now. At least, it feels like it because of the radiant pain spreading through my head.
Fuck!
I can't believe I forgot about him. I am glad he focuses on me and nothing else because I would die of shame if he had the wrong impression of me from this very awkward situation. Then again, I am standing half-naked, wearing only a shirt to cover my bare body.
I break our gaze to look shamefully at my body. All of my insecurities come back from the shadow Ash has helped me push them into. I grab the hem of my shirt and pull it further down to cover my too exposed legs. If Ash was accepting of my body, it doesn't mean Marcel will too... He might think the same thing Steeve did. I am just a fat carrot...
I shamefully looked back up, trying to spot my clothes on the floor and hurry myself to my jeans on the ground six feet from me. I pick them up and squeeze my thighs inside, and wiggle to button my pants on my hips.
When I look back up, I ignore Marcel's incessant stare to notice Ash getting dressed as well behind my angry publisher.
"You can go wait for me in my bedroom. It's right there." I point him in the direction before looking at Ash, eyes big on me. Marcel turns around, gives him the same cold death stare he did to me, and leaves us.
I stroll towards my drummer, trying to find some sense in the faculties I have left inside of my head. I breathe in and absentmindedly pull his shirt down neatly.
"Who is he?" He asks me with the biggest frown I have ever seen on his handsome face.
"My publisher."
"What the fuck is he doing here?" He continues, shouting his murmurs, knitting harder his brows together.
"I had to meet him today. Actually, I was supposed to be at his office three hours ago. I completely forgot to set my alarm."
"But how did he find you?"
"I don't know... I guess I'll find out in a minute. I am so sorry you have to leave this way." I tell him and take his hands in mine, both of us staring at them.
"It's OK, don't worry. Just... Text me?" He looks up at me and draws an uncertain smile on his lips, one that saddens me.
"I will. I wish I could have said goodbye in better circumstances..."
"At least, we got three hours more together."
"It doesn't count when we're both asleep..." I joke and pull his shirt towards me but lose my smile to say goodbye so soon.
"Have a nice trip back." He sighs, and I am immediately drawn to embrace him and kiss him one last time for what seems like too long before we get to do it again.
I let go and, regretfully, walk him to the door. I don't want him to go. It's the last thing I want, and it feels like going back to Marcel will be the last thing that will help my headache.
I look again at the floor, and the mess that was, slightly still is, in this living room and sigh deeply. I collect my bra and my panties and walk to my bedroom to hide them in a drawer.
I turn the knob silently and push the door open to reveal a calm and sit Marcel at the edge of my bed, looking absentmindedly through the window, clearly lost in his thoughts.
I take care of my dirty laundry and sneak myself closer to him to finally talk. Facing him, I feel a bit too intimidated by the silence between us. I take a step forward, watching his features, tensed, but he doesn't move. I sit next to him and try to find the words to apologise.
"I'm sorry..."
It's all that comes out of my mouth. It will have to do because it's all I seem to say. He doesn't move, he doesn't talk, and, honestly, it freaks me out now more than it was calming me seconds ago.
"I know how it seems, and I'm sorry. I just want you to know how committed I am to this project and-"
"Are you? Because you seem to be more into partying and fooling around than working with me."
"No, that's not true."
"Well, it's the second Sunday in a row that we meet, and you are hungover."
"I'm so sorry. I assure you it's not like me." I plead to him, but I know he's right. It makes me feel horrible to have made such an impression.
"I don't think I know you like I thought I did yesterday."
"We don't even know each other... We met last week."
"And you sure made the best impression!" He sarcastically lets out, being very expressive for once.
"I know this looks bad, but I can explain." I immediately feel the need to justify myself. I surprise myself to care so much about what he thinks of me. I would lie to say that I don't esteem him a lot.
"Oh, please do, because yesterday you told me all about your mean boyfriend and that you were done with him to find him almost naked opening your door. It took everything in me not to jump at his throat."
"The man you saw isn't my boyfriend..." I let out and quickly realised the last part of what he had just said.
"What?! This is getting better." He shakes his head theatrically in disbelief.
"What did you just say? Why would you jump at his throat?" I stop him, wanting to answer why he would do something so violent and extreme.
"And I can't believe you told me yesterday that you were different from your brothers sleeping around and not having a serious relationship when you are apparently doing the very same."
"I don't get why you are so concerned about all of this. You should be mad that I didn't show up, not the way I live my life!"
"It just adds oil to the fire."
"Oh! Now you have decided to answer me? Why the hell would you want to be violent with Ash?"
"I thought he was your boyfriend! OK!?" His eyes finally meet mine. I feel my body becoming hot, my cheeks blushing. It takes a moment, but I realise he cares more than he lets on, so I question him.
"So what?"
"I didn't want him to hurt you any longer!" He yells back at me and runs a hand through his chocolate curls.
I was stunned by his words as he suddenly stood up, seeming more intimidating than ever, but I wasn't scared. It actually felt like it, as my heart was racing, I didn't know what to do or where to look, but I wasn't scared. Relieved? Happy? Concerned? Lost? Not exactly. I don't know how I feel. It's pretty strange.
My eyes can't leave him from sight. I don't know what happened in his head, but I can clearly see he is not likely to act like that. He cares! My heart skips a beat. And another. I swallow hard.
I calm down and act like none of this just happened. I don't want things to get awkward. I just want to forget anything happened and get the job done.
"Do you want some tea?" I offer him, now staring at his back as he is looking out of the window.
He turns his head slightly to the side and sighs, nodding. I get up, and I am so glad to find a reason to leave this room. The air we were both breathing became too tense for both of us to function normally. Somehow, even though I don't know where to stand with what has just happened between us, it inspires me. I think of a scene to add to my story. I need to show the depth of the protagonists' relationship even before they were together.
I get to the kitchen and, the second I see my glass of water, I take it and drink it all at once. I put it next to the sink and lean my weight on the counter on both my hands, spread apart and catch my breath. I look around lazily for a kettle and, obviously, find none. I roll my eyes and sigh. I look for a cauldron. I'll need to boil the water in that instead, which I do.
I head quickly to the bathroom and get my toothbrush to, at least, get myself a little more presentable. I quickly wrapped my hair in a messy bun and wet my finger to wipe the small smudges of mascara under my eyes.
I run back to the kitchen to find the water boiling. Fortunately, the tea bags are on the counter, Sophie hasn't that many flavours. She has lemon, chamomile and raspberry hibiscus. He told me he only drinks English Breakfast. Maybe he won't mind...
I decide to do a cup of chamomile and another of raspberry and let him decide which one he prefers. I take them both in my hands and make my way back to my bedroom. I have invaded enough the rest of the flat I don't need to take more space than my own today.
I get into my room and notice that he has made the bed and sits on my side. Somehow, from I don't know what depth inside of me, I find that charming. I don't know what comes over me. We just yelled at each other a few minutes ago.
"Sophie doesn't have English Breakfast, so I made two different flavours. You can decide which one you want." I tell him gently, to not rub him the wrong way. I am really walking on shells with him.
"Surprise me." He simply lets out, and it instantly draws a broader smile on my lips. He is fun, after all. He has no idea how I am actually surprised and pleased to hear him say that. Surprise me. "Will you just stand there and smile at me, or you will finally give me a cup of tea?"
"Hey, calm down, OK? I was actually enjoying your spontaneous side." I let out with a smirk, kneeling on the bed to hand him the cup and sit in front of him.
"What did you give me?"
"Taste and see for yourself. Don't ruin the fun." I respond, genuinely amused, as he dips his lips in the burning liquid.
"Chamomile. Safe choice." He eyes me with a glimpse of fun haunting his traits.
"So you won't burn me alive then?"
"I haven't decided yet." He looks up at me, and I see a shadow of a smirk, and that contents me. "How's your head?"
"Honestly? Better. It was hell when I woke up. I am touching wood, I think it's gone now." I literally reach out to touch the wooden headboard of the bed to support my luck.
"Good to hear because you were hammered as hell the last time." He smiles more obviously and drinks another sip of his tea.
"Again, I am sorry for my behaviour. I never drink that much, but since I came to London, I seem to be experiencing a lot more."
"I understand." He only says, looking down at his cup, resting on his thigh, as it gets me frowning in curiosity about what he meant.
"What do you understand?"
"You seem to be living in a very controlled environment with your boyfriend. It would only be normal for you to break free when you get the chance. I don't condone your behaviour and even less encourage it, but I understand it."
"You seem to be reading me like an open book. Do you take pleasure in analysing what I do?"
"I do, yeah." He nods, being very serious, but that's something I find intriguing and appealing for some weird reason because he pays attention to me, what I do and how I think. No one ever did that. But it's kind of freaky.
"I would rather love for you to stop."
"Why?"
"Because you seem to know already too much about me when I barely know a thing about you..."
"I am not one to love small talks, so that won't happen."
"Oh, come on! If we are going to make this work, you need to calm down, relax and trust me."
"I trusted you to show up this morning and see where that led us."
He is right, but I won't let him make me feel bad. I have more important questions to ask him.
"How did you know where I live?"
"You mentioned Sophie, and when I got tired of waiting for you for two hours, I reached out to her, and she told me where to find you. Neither of us was able to reach you."
"I don't even know where I put my phone..." I say and look around the room quickly, searching lazily for it.
"It's on the coffee table in the living room." He quickly responds, not even leaving my eyes from his.
"You know everything, don't you?!" I frown, but it's something that I like about him. Maybe he doesn't know everything, but he sure notices everything.
"No, not when it comes to you. That's why I keep on analysing you."
"Why? I am pretty boring." I frown, obviously very intrigued, but I try to hide my curiosity a bit and drink my cup of tea.
"I wouldn't say that." He says, a charming glance in his eyes, but he looks away, the mood changing. "I am always overthinking. I don't try to be normal. I actually don't give a fuck what people think of me. People often think I am weird. I hate having attention. I run from it. I am as raw and pure as I can be. I have one life, one. I won't let it pass by."
"You are very unexpected."
"I know."
"I never know on which foot to dance with you."
"As do most people."
"I am not most people. I won't let you get away so easily."
"I know you won't." He says, sharing the same intense gaze we have been doing since he opened up to me. I seem to find myself breathing every word he says, seeing him like it's the first time. "You are just like her."
He speaks again, and it sucks all the air inside of my lungs, the tension high between us, but not in the wrong way. He gains all my attention. He still gazes at me, but with a different depth in his eyes that intrigues me. He has beautiful, expressive eyes.
"Like who?"
"Darcy."
"My character?" I ask him, and he nods. "Why?" He smirks but says nothing, drinking his tea instead.
"Why don't we ditch work and get to know each other better." He gazes up at me and keeps his smirk.
"What convinced you?"
"You did." He smiles at me gloriously, brighter than I have ever seen him do before. "Are you hungry? Pizza would be good right about now."
"Yes, please. I am famished."
-
I wouldn't lie. This turned out to be great. If it wasn't for ordering a vegetarian pizza, it would have been perfect. But Mister Healthy Stuff over here is, as mentioned, vegetarian. I tried to compromise with him, but Marcel isn't one easy to convince. I let it slide since he paid for the pizza. In exchange, he agreed to play twenty questions with me.
"I'm the biggest loner at Uni. I don't have any friends. I am quite surprised I made friends here super fast. I enjoy my solitude. It's not like I have time for any social life anyway..." I answer his question very honestly as I surprise myself to gesticulate a lot. I just feel more at ease with him than I must admit to myself.
"I get it." He nods as I look back at him. I get excited to have him understand me. I never had anyone growing up, a real best friend and I hated that. Now, I know I am not alone. "I am friends with Eddy, and that's it. I am so used to being alone. I have grown to like that. You won't find me making efforts to change that. Being my neighbour, Eddy quite imposed himself until it became a friendship. I made literally no efforts."
"It's quite like us." I smile at him brightly, proud.
"Yeah, you are a very imposing woman." I see a shadow of a smirk, and it contents me. He relaxes, and he is way more expressive than ever. I think I'm starting to relate to him. We are similar in so many ways.
"That's not what I meant!" I react loudly with a big smirk on my lips to continue his joke.
"I know, but it might have been what I needed." He softly adds, it's almost shy, and it makes me smile genuinely.
"What you needed for what?" I use the same delicate voice as he just did. I need him to be precise that he wants this friendship as much as I do, just to make sure I am not getting overly happy for nothing.
"I believe we are onto the next question..." He tries to change the subject, so I content myself with my thoughts and move on.
"Do you live alone?"
"No, I have a pet turtle."
"You don't really have a turtle, do you?" I laugh at his confession.
"I do. He's called Michelangelo." He smiles and defends himself from my mockery.
"Of course you named him after a ninja turtle!" I roll my eyes and lay on my back to look at the ceiling of my bedroom.
"Do you have any pets?"
"I don't. I have always wanted a dog, but Steeve is allergic."
"Of course he is, everything to ruin every chance for you to be happy." He rolls his eyes being very opinionated, but I like to have him so passionately on my side. It draws yet again a smile on my lips, which I realise that I'm currently biting. "What will you do about him? When will you break up with him?"
"I don't know... It's not that easy... All my life is with him. We share a home, and I work right downstairs. That's not mentioning that my term at College isn't over. If I do-- When I do, it has to be a clean break." I correct myself.
"Are you scared of what he'll do when it happens?" He slowly asks with a frown, studying my reaction.
"Is it bad to say yes?" I admitted after a bit of time and met his eyes with shame.
"No, you shouldn't have to do this alone." He holds my stare, but his tone is soft.
"I will work on a plan this week, pack my stuff slowly, so he doesn't notice. I'll start there." I sigh and think about the things I can do, and I begin to stress about it. It's not the moment to start worrying.
My heart starts to race, and my breathing accelerates. I feel like I lose all control of myself for a second until I settle my sight back on Marcel.
"Are you OK?" He asks me, turning on his side to look at me. He seems to genuinely care.
"Just anxious... Terrified, actually." I feel his gaze burning my skin as I feel like he can literally see through me. I try my hardest to keep in tears and control my emotions. "I am about to leave everything I have ever known, and that's not even mentioning how he will react. I don't know how to break the news to him..."
"You don't have anyone that can help you? What about your parents or your brothers?" He tries to help and, even though I don't get why I am so honest and personal about it all, I am glad to discuss this with someone.
"I'd rather not. I don't want to seem weak." I look down to escape his incessant stare, but he stops me by reaching to my chin for our eyes to meet again.
"That's not what you are at all. You are actually strong to finally stand up for what is right by you. It took maybe too long, but at least you are doing what you want to do for once. Because he doesn't seem to be treating you right. You are entitled to respect, and love, and equality."
He releases my chin, and my skin is still tickling long after his hand is off me.
"Thanks."
He rolls on his back and looks at the ceiling the same way I do, and we stay silent a moment. I roll back on my side and look at him. His eyes run wild. His thoughts must be doing the same because there's nothing to look at on a white ceiling.
"Who would have known the day would have turned out this way when you showed up this morning?!" I joke as this chat turned out to show me a very unexpected side of Marcel.
Every time we have a 'bonding' moment, he always listens to me with great attention, and I love that about him. I just hope neither of us will ruin the moment like we always do. I want him to be my friend and not only my publisher. It will go so much better.
I keep on looking at him silently. He has both of his arms crossed behind his head, lifting his shirt under his cardigan. His skin is a bit toned and, peaking from the hem of his trousers are some curly golden-brown hair running up to his belly button. My mind drifts to his tattoos, the ones I saw yesterday on each arm. But his silence is making me wonder where his thoughts are drifting to.
"What are you thinking about?" I wonder and keep on staring at his face, trying to read most of the little expressions he does.
He rolls on his side and looks at me. His gaze pierces through my eyes. The intensity excites and scares me at the same time. It triggers the adrenaline inside of me, racing my heart to be ready for any situation. I gaze down at his lips, still in a dark shade of pink, pouting, slowly moving until he starts to speak, and I look back up to his eyes.
"How inappropriate this situation is. We are supposed to be working on your story and making it into a great book." He says coldly, straight to my face, never stopping looking into my eyes. "We are lying on your bed. I saw you half-naked and-"
"I know it is unconventional and weird, but apart from that, we are establishing a relationship based on trust to work even better together. I don't see what is wrong with that?!" I let out, clearly panicked, to lose the little bit of a fun relationship I have with him. I feel him closing his walls, and I can't let that be.
"It is when I find myself trying to help you manage your personal life!" He lets out loudly and sits up in the bed, and gathers his satchel to get going.
"What?" I don't understand what he means... "No, you are not. You are a friend, and you have been more helpful than anyone on this matter."
I freak out a little as I see him stand up, and I push myself out of bed to get in his way and get him to answer me. I won't let him escape and close completely his walls on me. Not again. We've come too far to step back now.
"That's the problem. I've just run through every scenario of how I- You know what? I need to go. You have a bus to catch. It's getting late."
"No, tell me!"
"Grace, let it go." He says coldly and tries to walk past me, but I don't let him.
"No, I won't, Marcel. You might be used to always having it your way, but I won't let you trash all the progress we have made."
"Progress?" He frowns, questioning me from sight, but it makes him stop fighting me. I've got his attention.
"Yeah, you always have these walls around you, and you always close them on me. I tell you, this trick won't work on me." I raise my voice to prove my point and stop this back in forth between us. "I like you, Marcel. Believe it or not, I care enough about you to pull up with your change of moods all the time, so don't think you can get rid of me like you do with everyone else."
I let out quite abruptly and stopped myself from sharing further. I want him to understand my point of view, not to get defensive and fight me. Instead, I find him very observant and attentive. He looks at me very intently without adding anything. Until he does...
"I don't know whether to be happy or mad right now." He answers very slowly after a long moment of consideration. His expression isn't cold but unfathomable altogether.
"The fact that you have to ask yourself that question means you need to let go and feel sometimes. Be happy that I care because I am sure not many people do. So whether you tell me what you were thinking about or leave, but don't expect me to be more kind to you than professionally."
I used all the adrenaline inside of me to tell him right to his face how I felt at that very moment. I regret it for a quarter second, but I've told the truth. I meant it. It shouldn't be this hard to talk about his feelings. I didn't ask him to tell me how much money he had in his bank account. I asked him to tell me how he tried to help me manage my personal life.
He pushes his glasses back on the bridge of his nose and chews his lower lip. I look at him intently. There's something about him that fascinates me. He looks away, breathing in and out deeply and slowly. He releases his soft lip and looks at me.
"I was thinking about going up to Manchester next weekend. We can work together on your story at your place. I would be there when you break up with him. You wouldn't be alone. We could load my car with your things, and I could drive you back here." He confesses silently and sighs again but looks away again and shakes his head. "You know what? Forget it. I don't even know why I thought-"
Without thinking, I run into his arms to stop him from changing more his mind. I don't know if it's the right thing to do, but I am so thankful he even came up with this idea. I keep on thanking him in his ear to show him how dear his plan is to me. I hold him close, and I am actually surprised to feel him hugging me back after a short while. It isn't as awkward as it was the first time we hugged. It feels much more natural now.
"Honestly, Marcel, I don't even care how it seems, if it's inappropriate or not. I am just happy you care about me that much to think of that solution to help me. I don't even know how to thank you enough. You have no idea how much this means to me." I whisper against his ear as he has no idea the relief I feel to know I won't be alone. I've never felt my heart this big in my chest. I wish there was a better way to express how thankful I am than to hold him in my arms. I know his dislike for human contact.
"It does?" He asks me, with a voice I don't recognise from him. It has sincerity and vulnerability in it I haven't heard before. It charms my heart even more.
"Yes. See? We are friends, which is more important to me than having a cold relationship with my publisher. You, caring enough about me to think about helping me that way, shows how you are more than what you think of yourself."
"You think too highly of me." He slips away from me and pushes his glasses on his nose again. His eyes run from mine until I take a step closer to make him understand that he is becoming essential to me. His sight falls now effortlessly on me, and I think I see a glimpse of who he really is. I see some vulnerability in the man in front of me.
"I think I see you for who you are, from what I have seen. I was not a fan of you, and somehow you've convinced me. And I mean that in the most respectful way."
"Anyway, I don't do much sentimentalism, so it's best if we keep it short." He lets out and steps back. It makes me smile.
"Good. It's not like me to be affectionate anyways. I think hugs are awkward." I joke, acting a face of disgust.
It gets him a little laugh, and that contents me. I let him be. He walks out of the room, and I follow him to the hall without a word. I'm thrilled with what we've accomplished today. We didn't work that much, but I feel just how closer we got, even if he won't admit it.
"I had a delightful day. I am happy it turned out this way." I risk myself another sentimental moment, but I genuinely mean it.
"Don't get used to it. We still have work to do, lots of it."
"I know. I think it's a great idea you come to Manchester. You won't have your corkboard, but we can work more concretely on the story and all those comments you left me."
"Yeah." He only lets out and looks around awkwardly.
"So, what do you want me to get done by the time you come?"
"Do your final essays so you can give them back and have less attachment in the city as you can. That way, you can move more permanently to London." I nod to his idea, realising how many nights I worked on my essay to avoid going out with Steeve and his friends.
"I will. I have already started my work. I will have this done by the end of the week and hand them. That way, I will be done with my degree. I'll quit my job too. When will you be there?"
"Friday maybe. I will text you and keep you updated. Maybe before. It depends on the work I have to do at the office. I already handed my copy of my thesis to my supervisor, and he told me he wouldn't hand it back to me until next week."
"So you are nearly done?"
"Yeah, I have to hand it in before the end of the month, and I will be officially a Doctor."
"Dr Wright? I like the sound of that." I nod in appreciation and see the genuine wide and proud smile forming on his lips.
"Me too."
His smile charms me a lot. I feel a weird giddiness inside me. I'm so happy to have a peek of what is inside a man I thought so cold. It's good to be shown wrong.
"When is your bus leaving?" He asks me, and I frown deeply. For a woman always so organised and planned, I didn't think about that at all. I'm completely caught off guard. Fuck!
"I don't know..."
"Well, get ready. I'll get you there." He hurries me, and I take a second to quickly clean the mess we've made in my room.
"Thanks. I just hope there is going to be another one at this hour." I run to the bin to hide the pizza box.
"How long is the ride?"
"Six hours."
"Jesus Grace, it's already past 3 PM. I hope there are still buses."
I rush to the bedroom to get my purse, leaving everything else here. I clean quickly what's left as if I never had been here and go with Marcel. He drives me to the airport bus station. I thank him and get inside to get my ticket. Fortunately, I make it right on time for the 4 PM bus heading to Manchester.
I think back on my weekend with a smile. Marcel and I's relationship evolved to become a friendship. At least, that is how I like to think about it because when I talked about it, he didn't deny anything. Also, Ashley and I had the most fantastic time together. I like him. I am very infatuated with him. Now that I think about it, it sucks that I won't be seeing him next weekend, but maybe it can give me a break. I need to slow my sins since I came to London.
When I nearly get to the terminus, I text Steeve and ask him for a ride. I get frightened he might be still pissed at me, but he surprisingly isn't. It shocks me a bit when I see him face to face, and he greets me with a big hug. He leans in and kisses me, much more deeply than he ever does, the biggest smile on his lips after. The last time he acted like that was on our holiday in Glasgow last March.
"I missed you so much, babe." He exclaims, not even waiting to be home to be affectionate, which he never is.
"I see that." I respond, not reciprocating at all.
"Do you know how much I love you? I spent the entire weekend thinking about our future. I can't wait to show you when we get home."
What the fuck?!