I have been working my butt off this entire week, and I am proud to be done with my final essay on Wednesday as I volunteer for the last time at the library. I made a deal with the old lady that always works with me to take care of the students by herself. I hid in the office all morning, using my portable computer to do my final research. I didn't write it with all the care I usually put into my work. I just wanted it to be over. I even used the printer to print my document, and I ran to my professor's office to hand it in. And I realised that now, I really don't need to go to my classes even though I still have some. All my papers have been given before the due date, and I am officially done with College.
So, I guess I can leave College earlier today. I think I can leave College for the last time actually. I can't believe it's over.
Steeve doesn't suspect that even though I have classes left before the end of the term, I have handed in all my final essays to be free of him. I now realise how this leaves me extra time to start packing my stuff slowly while he is at work. I am so proud to finally get to see the light shining at the end of the tunnel.
The second I get home, I make sure Steeve isn't there even though he is supposed to be at work. I then run downstairs to Nando's to ask George if he has some empty boxes for me. I ask him personally because I know he won't ask questions and tell anyone, certainly not Steeve.
Once I'm back upstairs, I put on some music and slowly start to look around the flat to organise what is mine and what he won't notice is missing. I decided to start with my clothes and hide my boxes at the bottom of my closet. If he ever stumbles upon them, I can lie and say that they are the clothes I want to bring to London with me. Clever.
Time seems to go by so quickly that I must remember to stop and get ready to work. I hide all my boxes and get changed in a hurry.
I get pleasantly surprised to see Ronnie coming in, five minutes late, but it's the first time we get to work simultaneously in an awfully long while. She worked on Monday, but her shift ended when mine began. For the first hour of our shift, let's just say that we fake more our work than we actually accomplish anything. She tells me all about her date with the rich guy with the big cock, and I am genuinely happy she finally seems to be settling down with somebody. She assures me they are just dating yet and not exclusive. Of course. What am I thinking?! How old fashioned am I? It has only been two dates.
When we finally stop talking about her, she remembers my hottie as she calls him, and we talk about Ash. She gets so excited at the idea that I had sex with him because it's so not me. She loves me dearly, but she thinks of my life as boring.
"I honestly didn't think you had it in you." She jokes with the largest grin, and she makes me feel kind of proud of myself. "Was it good?"
"The best," I smirk at her as I organise the menus, and she cleans the counter.
"Details, please."
I struggle to find the confidence to look at her and tell her, so I hush my voice and step closer to her to share these very, very intimate details.
"He made me come every time. He was perfect, I mean... Just thinking it back, I feel aroused." I can't stop biting my lip as I whisper my confessions to her.
"Was he big or simply agile?" She questions me more personally.
"Both. Ronnie..." I sigh with pleasure and lick my lips, seeing the memories of our last time in my head. "I was just drawn to it."
"How did he taste?"
"I didn't taste all of him, but he tastes odd..."
"Don't expect it to taste any better, darling. But good enough to do it again?" She asks me, her voice getting higher the more private this conversation becomes.
"Yes. For sure." I tell her and kneel down the counter to pick up aprons and clean utensils. "It's so special with Ash. It's like, have you ever felt like bursting into flames only by the look somebody gives you?"
"Oh yeah..." She moans, and I frown at her from the floor. What was that?!
"I wasn't ready for such enthusiasm..." I tease her, counting the number of knives I take into my hand, but her stare ahead weirds me out. "What are you looking at?"
"The god that makes my sex burst into flames." She lets out as Veronica turns on her charms and heads to the client with a menu to greet him to the restaurant. "Hi, welcome to Nando's. Is it your first time here?"
"It is." I can barely hear the man say.
"You seem strangely familiar. Have I seen you before?" I hear her being cosy with the client, which isn't the first time, but it feels weird, making me frown again.
"No, it's my first time in Manchester."
"So, will someone be joining you, or will you be dining alone?"
"It will be only me, but I was actually looking for someone. Maybe you can help me."
"Anything for you, I mean, yeah, I can help you."
I stand back up with the forks to go with the knives I counted to dress up the empty tables and laugh at Ronnie's clumsiness. Never a man makes her feel something else than confidence, so this man must be something. I look up and see only his broad shoulders and the smitten face of my best friend. I find myself very amused by her behaviour. I try to look at him better. He is tall with caramel brown locks. I slide my eyes lower to have a long appreciative glance at his bum. The skinny black jeans he wears shows me how firm but round his cheeks are. This man is literally the man candy Ronnie loves.
I look at her from behind the client's back and giggle silently on my way to the tables to dress them and do some of the job I should have done earlier. As the curious one I am, I walk the entire floor to make sure I can have a glimpse of the man to whom she is talking.
She was right. He is gorgeously hot. I don't stare that much, but his beauty is at the finest line between sweetness and sexiness. I look at the clock over the counter on my way back to the entrance. It is a bit past 8PM. I am sure Ronnie can make him wait three hours for her to be done with work and bring him home after her shift. It wouldn't be the first time she does.
"Grace." I hear my name, so I turn around. Ronnie comes back from giving a table to her client. "The walking sex machine I told you about is looking for you."
"Me? Why me when you are all over him?" I poke my tongue at her, which fuels her to tease me in response.
"I was asking myself the same thing."
"Who is it? If he asks for me, I must know him."
"I don't know, but please introduce us." She practically begs me, and I shake my head quickly, not having any problem with it if I indeed know who this person is.
I quickly wash my hands and dry them on my uniform. I follow Ronnie to her mystery panty-dropping god. We walked to her section, and she unsurprisingly put him at her favourite table. It's kind of hidden amongst the back of the restaurant, so she always heads there to talk as it can barely be seen from the other employees unless you purposely walk there.
I walk to the table and notice first his hands on the menu. They are pretty big with long fingers that reminds me of Ash's. I also see the watch on his left wrist, hinting that he is right-handed and of his wealth as it is a gorgeous expensive watch.
Just as I think that, I remember having the same thoughts before, but as I get closer and see hints of his face, I find myself looking for the squared glasses, but find none, only piercing green eyes, gorgeous eyes. He looks up at me, and even though I denied the chance that it could be Marcel when I didn't see the glasses, it is irrevocably him.
I get surprised by the large and genuine smile growing on my lips.
"Marcel! I wasn't expecting you so soon!" I let out and didn't wait for a second to sit in front of him. I am genuinely thrilled to see him, and it surprises me how giddy my heart gets to the sight of him.
"I should have texted you first." He responds coldly, but his cold is actually his neutral. I am used to it.
"No! It's a lovely surprise. I am very happy to see you here." I tell him, and I think I see a slight grin on his face.
"So tell me, what is good to eat here?"
"The chicken."
"No shit?!" I laugh at his response, and he smiles wider.
"It's a bummer you're vegan." I tease him, and it gets me a full-on smile.
I am about to crack a joke about it when I hear Ronnie clear her throat behind me, and I remember she is with me. I turn and look at her, inviting her closer to us at the table and presenting her to Marcel.
"Veronica, this is my publisher, Marcel Wright. Marcel, this is the woman that sent you my story, my best friend, Ronnie."
He offers her his hand to shake with a slight grin, acting as politely as he was raised to be.
"Happy to meet you." He says, and I smirk at them, rolling my eyes to myself.
"Believe me, the pleasure is all hers." I let out before she could say anything.
I look at him before I can look at her, and I see a genuine reaction from him. He seems amused. It's the first time I've seen him like that. Maybe being away from work or London is making him relax. Perhaps he feels more at ease with me. No matter the reason, I feel truly happy to have made such progress in our relationship.
"I think it's time to go back to work now." She says to get a reaction out of me. It works.
"Alright, alright. Come to the counter when you are ready. I'll come by later."
-
"Are you done staring at him?" I catch Ronnie again, cleaning a spotless table for the fifth time just to glance at Marcel.
"He is fucking hot. I can't believe he is the jerk you told me about." She says as I clean a table nearby where my clients just left, leaving only a few customers left.
"He is. I am slowly figuring him out."
"Well, I want to figure his anatomy out."
"Do as you wish, but he is peculiar. But like I said, I don't know him. Maybe you have a better chance to figure him out than me..." I secretly hope not. He is my little project.
Am I possessive?
What is going on with me?
I look up at him and lose my gaze on his hands. They firmly hold a book. I can't see what it is from here, but he seems so drawn to it that it makes me wonder what can interest him that much that he doesn't pay attention to anything else, not even the peri-peri fries left on his plate. I am found wrong when his fingers blindly caress the plate looking for one, his eyes always so captivated by every word of the story he reads.
"Look at those lips..." Ronnie whispers, and it makes me stop my stare as I am actually looking at them, all pouted and cute.
I collect all the dirty dishes and head back to the kitchen to get them cleaned. I decided that it might be time for me to take my break. So I take a glass and fill it with ice and a bit of water. I head back to the dining rooms and find my way to Marcel's table. I take a seat in front of him, but I don't say a word. I look at him read. I don't mind not having his attention because I am not actively looking for it.
I appreciate this calm aura around him, and I find myself looking at him. He put back his glasses to read. I like his glasses. It introverts him. I must admit that he looks great without, but I only know him with. Plus, he seems to be getting more attention without, with reason, and I don't like it.
What am I thinking!?
"You are getting as weird as your friend, you know?" I find him looking at me over his book, and I feel instantly sorry for all of my thoughts.
"You see her staring?"
"Yeah, she needs to stop. It's very impolite."
I smile, being proud for some reason.
"She thinks you are hot. Take it as a compliment." I let out as I take my glass and make my ice slide into my mouth to eat it.
"I think she is hot, and you don't find me always looking at her." My arrogant Marcel is back, it makes me smile, but it irritates me that everyone likes Ronnie's appearances.
"Well, she wants to sleep with you. I expect her to come to make her move soon, but, in short, she'll invite you to her place for a nightcap, or I don't know what it might be this time. Her shift ends in an hour."
"When do yours?"
"Same. We close at eleven."
"And you do this every day? Go to College and work until late?"
"I do. I volunteer at the library before, from ten to noon. I have my class from one to four, and I take the bus to come to work from five to eleven."
"That's crazy."
"That's my life."
"You have no time for yourself."
"I know, that's why I write. I get to be wherever I want, anytime I want and do whatever I want. It's the key to my sanity."
"With your ass of a boyfriend, your life here isn't the easiest. I understand why you let loose that much then." He lets out quickly as if it's the most obvious thing. I feel hurt by that for some reason.
"Don't pity me," I ask of him, and I feel his eyes burning into mine.
"I don't. I did at first, but I don't anymore. You are maybe one of the most driven people I know. I admire your strength."
"Compliments? Let me enjoy this moment while it lasts." I tease him, and it grants me another grin with an eye roll. I love it. "What were you reading?"
"Byron."
"Nice. You know Childe Harold?"
"That's his third book I am reading."
"I didn't read the two first... I heard they were better."
"I don't know yet. Don't ruin my fun." He smirks at me, and it makes me smile wider.
"You know, poetry is made to be read out loud."
"Tell me something I don't know." He lets out and looks back at his book.
"It was actually an invitation. I have about three minutes left to my break, so make the most of it." I tell him, taking my glass in my hand and sliding some more ice into my mouth.
"Weird woman." He says as he looks at me eating my ice.
"Read! We are wasting time." I whine playfully and wait for him to oblige.
I rest my elbow on the table and lay my head in my hand as I close my eyes. It takes a few more seconds until I finally hear his voice. His tone is sweet and gentle. I feel as if he was reading to a child, but I like it. His diction is superb. He says every word so distinctively with his Londonian accent that I literally feel the true beauty of the poem. I don't think I actually understand the poem's meaning because I ravish too much at the lullaby it feels like to me. I instantly feel sleepy.
He ends his page, and I take it as my time to get up and back to work. I thank him for that sweet and serene moment and let him finish his fries that are probably now cold.
The hour goes fast as I serve the last clients and occasionally glance at Marcel from afar. He stayed for three hours at my workplace when he could just have gone. God knows where to do anything else than wait. I like that, with a book in his hands, he conveys all of his attention on it, and it makes him happy. At least, that's what it appears to be.
I take my tray to head to the last dirty table to get all the dishes. I turn the dining room corner and walk right into Marcel, standing unexpectedly in my way. I jump and scream a weird sound that I apologise for very quickly as I gather the tray that had fallen from my hands.
I smile in response to the weird sound he makes. He laughs! It's both terribly disturbing and adorable. I had never heard him laugh before.
"Are you OK?" He asks after a moment of euphoria.
"I am. You scared me."
"It happens."
"We haven't talked at all about work since you came in. I am done with College. I handed all my assignments."
"Congratulations." He softly smiles at me, and it makes me realise how happy I am that he smiles that much to me. I like it a lot. "I am staying at the hotel a few meters away. Text me when you are ready tomorrow. Do you prefer your place or my hotel?"
"I can answer that question." Ronnie comes from behind me with her purse and all her belongings which makes me frown. There are still fifteen minutes to her shift. "My place, honey."
"You are leaving?" I look from one to the other quickly, a bit panicked.
"I'm sure you won't mind covering for me. There's only us and George in the place." She takes me for granted, and it surprises me a lot. But does it really?
"You do you, Ronnie." I let out, clearly bothered about everything going on right now.
"Thanks, babe. I'll see you tomorrow." She doesn't even care as she takes Marcel's arm and leads him out, leaving me frowning and pissed.
I look up at Marcel, hoping for some sort of goodbye or a smile or even a look, but he ignores me like everyone does when Ronnie is in the room. Damn it!
I walk fast to the table and clean all the dishes to bring them back to George in the kitchen to wash them together since there are no customers left. The cook notices something is wrong but doesn't ask anything. He gazes up at me a couple of times, and I decide to tell him anyway.
"My friend from London just left with Ronnie."
"Oh, I know what that means."
"I know... It bothers me, and I don't know why. I don't know which one I want to protect more of the other."
"I thought she had a boyfriend finally."
"It appears two dates doesn't make it official, George. I think we are too old fashioned for this generation." I tell the laughing thirty-year-old father of two adorable children.
"What will you do when you get home? Is Steeve there, or is he at the pub tonight?"
"It's Wednesday night, George. It's boys night. I will be all alone, so I'll probably take a shower and go to bed." I tell him and look over my shoulder a second to look at him and sigh. "You can go. I'll close alone. I am covering for Ronnie. Why not for you too. You deserve it more. Kiss your children goodnight for me."
"You are so sweet. I will. Bless you, Grace." He says to me as he puts a reassuring hand on my back.
I smile tiredly to him as I still have both my hands in the soapy water and empty the sink now that the dishes are done. My heart weirdly feels as empty as the restaurant. I slowly close it at the stroke of eleven, lock all the doors behind me and turn off all the lights.
-
I wake to the sound of my alarm. I forgot to deactivate it now that school is over. At least, it makes Steve don't suspect a thing. I get up and start the tea kettle to boil my water as usual as he leaves for work already. He doesn't even talk to me. I can only guess he partied hard last night. Tonight is Thursday, so he will be heading out again. It's ladies night, and he always does the wingman for his mates. I realise now how dumb I am. Plus, now that he has money, I bet he lets loose a lot more than me.
I look around the flat and notice the mess he's made when he came back last night. He has clothes everywhere, so I pick them up and put them in the dirty laundry basket. He left his gym bag in the middle of the kitchen table. I take it and brings it to the bedroom to put it on his side. When I throw it on the ground, I realise I should maybe put his gym clothes with the rest of his dirty laundry. I could wash it quickly before heading back to work this afternoon. It makes me realise he spends all of his time at the gym, but I never wash his clothes, at least not as often as I used to.
I take the bag back into my hands and put it on the bed. I unzip the bag carefully, fearing the smell that I could find inside. I take all the clothes to get them washed, but as I take his socks at the bottom of the bag, my fingers brush a box and metallic paper. I frown and open the bag wider, throwing the laundry on the ground.
I don't even know how to react when I see a box of condoms with lots of half-opened foil packages at the bottom of the bag. I take the packet in my hand, maybe looking for clues he was cheating on me, perhaps to make this break up lots easier. He, in fact, never uses those types of condoms with me. They're strawberry flavoured, and I don't need a flavour to excite me down to my knees, but it has been a while since I last gave him a fellatio. It has been more than a month, before I got to London, before Marcel... I mean, before Ash!
I look at the content blankly and ultimately decide to take back all of his dirty clothes and shove them back into the bag. I throw it on his side of the bed and decide to get dressed to do something to change my mind.
I am not even bothered with the fact that I don't even give a fuck. He can be doing anything he wants. I just don't want him to be my burden anymore. I put on my white Elvis Presley shirt, way too baggy for me, with a nice pair of legging and plan on making more boxes. I gather my hair up in a messy bun and look for my glasses. Why not take the time to read the papers now that I actually got the time to do so?! I head outside and steal Nando's delivery of newspapers. I will bring them back before it opens.
I come back to the whistle of the kettle telling me my water is ready. I make my English Breakfast tea, and it makes me think of Marcel and what he might be doing right now. If Ronnie got a taste of something she liked, she is probably making him breakfast while he sleeps. I wonder if she knows he's a vegetarian. For once, I really hope she fails at charming a man. It would be weird for them to hang out, and by hanging out, I mean fuck. It already hits the roof. I hate it.
I take my hot cup and walk to the living room as I pick up the papers on my way. I push back the glasses on my nose and read the headlines on every page without anything getting my attention. Nothing interests me at all, so I closed the journal and decided to return it right away.
I head back downstairs, as bored and emotionless as I have been since I found the condoms. I get outside and put back the papers in their mailbox. The sun surprised me, and I decided to stay a second longer to look at the sky. It's gorgeously blue, and I genuinely ravish at the shy heat of the sun we too rarely have in England.
I look down, ready to head back in, but my stare gets lost looking at the man jogging on the street. It's a beautiful day for a run, not too warm nor too cold. I wish I was more active. It looks nice and fun, but not for me. I roll my eyes at myself. I am such a lazy potato. Fat carrot...
My esteem is so down, I don't even know how to feel... I am terribly disturbed and uneasy in my own skin, but that's not new. I guess I always knew. That's why he looked for somebody else... I can't even keep a man...
"Grace?" I hear my name and look around until I see the running man coming my way.
Of fucking course.
Marcel.
If that man wasn't as cold as I know him to be, he would be perfect. Well, in his shorts and sweats, he sure does look like it. His hair is hidden under a beanie and his hoodie with ridiculously neon running shoes. This whole picture brings a smile to my face. I am secretly dying inside for a hug. I just want comfort right now, and everything Steeve related to being done with, but Marcel seems in such a good mood. I don't want to ruin that by sharing what I've discovered.
"Hey, you!" I let out and look at him jogging his way to me. "I was about to text you, but I thought you had more important matters to do this morning."
"Like what?" He frowns at me, walking the few steps between us. "I came here to work on your story, and that's what we'll do. I was just clearing my head. Let me head back and shower, and I'll come right over."
"Great. Tea is ready."
"Great. See you in a bit." He smiles quickly and puts back his headphones as he starts to jog away.
What does this man don't do?!
He knocks at my door about half an hour later. I have reheated the water in my kettle, and I got my boxes out of my closet to fill his car with what I had already packed. He gets in with the most delightful scent following him. He smells sweet with a comforting scent of wood, and I ravish the smell of his perfume. I am so not used to it. Steeve doesn't wear any.
He is back wearing his polo. I am not saying he doesn't look good in it, but his tight jeans and white tee were hot last night. It's two different looks.
"Where do you want me?" He asks me seriously, and I surprise myself with a wildly inappropriate comment.
"Is that what you asked Ronnie last night?" I blur out and catch his gaze looking intensely at me, not even flinching or surprised by my comment.
"I didn't have to. She seemed pretty desperate." He responds as quickly, not an ounce of judgment in him nor me.
"Maybe it's the way you made her feel."
"I wouldn't say that..." He says, and I think I see a shadow of a smirk on his lips. I don't force it. I am actually surprised and happy he didn't jump to my throat. "But my question was addressed to you and not her."
It freezes the blood in my veins as it contrasts how hot I become. His stare makes me burn alive inside of my own skin. I have been silent for a slight moment. I hope he doesn't notice how his comment is affecting me. I need to say something.
"That's a dangerous game you play. I could want you anywhere." I don't look away from his gaze and stop myself from biting my lip like I have been absentmindedly doing.
"I wouldn't ask if I wasn't ready for the answer."
I stop myself a second to savour his answer. It makes me feel good, really good about myself.
"The couch. There are not many places in this flat anyway." I finally let out and joined him to lead the way.
"You know what? I had no expectations, but I wouldn't picture your flat any differently." He lets out as he starts walking around and looks at the pictures on the walls, my desk where sits my portable computer, until he gets to the living room, five steps later.
I don't say anything and give him his cup of tea once he finds a place on the couch, leaving a small place for me next to him.
We must talk all morning. We debate the big turning points of the story. He also compliments me on my cliffhangers which I don't take lightly. We write directly on the manuscript, all stiff from the rain that had soaked it last week.
As well as working, I get an interest in him. I like looking at him work. I notice little weird things about him that I like. I like the way he holds his pen between his fingers and his handwriting. It's artistic and free. Also, he pouts his mouth when he writes. I noticed that he did too when he reads. It all makes him more accessible. I like that. He is so calm and focused. He is truly beautiful. And not just outside. I can't believe he cares enough to be here, in Manchester, with me. He seems to care so much. I can't be indifferent to that.
He was so cold before I never really related to him, but I do a lot more now, even though our lives are entirely different.
"Staring again?" He catches me as his eyes are still looking at what he is writing.
"Sorry..." I let out, but with the smirk growing on his lips, I am not so much.
"Are you?"
"No, I am not."
"I thought so."
"You are quite the specimen, Mr Wright. I like to observe you just like you love to analyse me."
"Alright, you are forgiven."
"I sure hope so."
We keep working as we fool around more playfully together, and it makes me realise how nice it is. I feel like I get through his walls more easily. I cook him salmon for lunch as it has been forever since the last time I ate fish. Steeve doesn't like it. Marcel complained a lot about my way of doing things, so I let him help me.
It is amusing to have somebody to cook with. Steeve never wants to, but it's not like he has any patience anyway. I now actually find it funny when Marcel gets all whiny and difficult. It's like, 'what will he complain about next?' I decided to take it with a laugh because if I wouldn't, we wouldn't stop arguing. I really get to see an enjoyable and easy-going side of him, and it pleases me greatly. He seems relaxed, and it really charms me.
It seems like Marcel and I are drunk on caffeine from our teas all afternoon. It's actually very productive, and we don't see the time fly until Ronnie texts me. She needs to talk to me pronto as it is ten before five.
I rush into my bedroom and get changed as quickly as possible while Marcel gathers all of our stuff and puts them in his satchel. We take this time to take my boxes and put them in his car. He follows me inside Nando's, and I give him a table in my section but walk face to face with Ronnie. She looks at Marcel with arrogance and ignores us completely.
"What's wrong with her?" I ask him with a big frown on my face.
"I was about to ask you the same thing." He says, weirdly amused as I get him seated.
"Are you sure you are OK to work here? I don't want to force you to wait for me..."
"You aren't. I have your computer. I will make changes." I look at him, worrying about what he might do. "Don't worry, only those you agreed to. Go to work. I got this covered."
I leave him there and go to work without any motivation whatsoever, but I really need to know what is happening with Ronnie. I put my wallet and keys in my locker, and I didn't even have to look for her. She stepped right in my face with the coldest of fronts. Did they trade personality or something?
"Fridge. Now!" She commands, and I high my eyebrows on my forehead.
Somehow, I seem more anxious about what she will tell me than when I found out that Steeve has been cheating on me.