Marcel and I arrived an hour early to the event. I love to be early. We get the first picks at the best seats. You get to settle in and have the time to go to the loo, look at the venue. I was always the first one in class during my Uni days. For this event, I am so thankful we were indeed early, because there are already many people waiting in line to get the best seats. I take this time to Google him and inform Marcel of who our speaker is.
The English article on Wikipedia doesn't have a picture of him. I don't really mind. I don't think I even have a Wikipedia page on myself, so not having a picture is no big deal. I read a lot about him and summarised it all in trivia facts to Marcel.
"He wrote his first book in his early teenage years. He has written books both in English and in French. His latest in English is called "Blood Shot" in two words. It's his fourteenth book. Or his fourteenth in English... I'm not really sure. It doesn't say much. It talks a bit about what inspired him to write in the first place was to escape the toxic living environment he was in when he was young. I think we can both relate to that. It says here that he briefly taught at the University of Montreal. That's about it for Wikipedia. Now, what else does the Internet have to say about him? Many articles in French about the releases of his books. Oh! He's won many awards, and he is the spokesperson for a charity that introduces underprivileged kids into literature. That's nice. Didn't we talk about something similar the other day?"
"Mmhmm..." Marcel simply responds and looks around, maybe not paying as much attention to me as I thought.
"I think it was last month, at the museum. About how we should encourage our children to develop their creativity by giving them a blank sheet of paper and a pencil, and see the infinite possibilities they can achieve."
"Wasn't that when we visited your University?"
"Maybe... I think I could question him on that. I could write an article about this charity and his impact on the lives of the children he helps. This is good."
I continue my search on my phone, scrolling down fan pages, until I see one of the articles written by Shelley. It's in French, but he is photographed with her and I finally get to know the face of the man I have been reading so much about.
I'm shocked and surprised. At a loss of words really. I don't know why but I turn a little so that Marcel can't see my screen anymore. I click on the picture and zoom in. This man is absolutely gorgeous. I mean... wow!
He stands terribly tall next to her. He has a head full of dark onyx hair and a piercing blue gaze. His skin is sunkissed at best. Not very tan, but he looks very healthy. Through his suit, I can see his large build. The top two buttons of his collar are not buttoned. Some of his chest hair peek through. It isn't too much in a macho kind of way. It's seductive, effortlessly charming.
I just can't even contain myself. I was so not expecting to meet this gorgeous man today. I search for other pictures of him. I look at his figure. I'm feeling inspired. He is the closest thing I have ever seen in real life to a Greek God. I look at him and I see Zeus, the wrath of a hundred lightning. I dive into his clear blue eyes and I feel the deep and vast oceans of Poseidon. I see his predominant biceps and think of Hercules with the strength of ten men. I can't wait to see his hands.
I've never felt that attraction towards somebody like I often felt for art. Everything in me is ignited. I just want to run my hands on his bare chest and sculpt him from the waist up. He would look so good in white clay. To me, he is the ultimate beauty. He is a living, breathing piece of art. He really is that beautiful.
From the picture only, I can sense his charisma. I find myself intimidated and excited to meet him. It definitely invites me to read more about him. I kind of regret not doing my homework sooner and research the shit out of him like I usually do. I finally find his website and read all the synopsis I could find. I search for the first book he has ever written and try to decipher from the resume how his traumatic childhood might have been drawn. I will have to question him on that later.
I feel a pull on my arm, and look up from my screen. Lots more people have gathered around us and Marcel's attention is at the event coordinators walking our way. I straighten myself and hide my phone in my purse, getting ready to get in and be seated.
Marcel looks around without a word. He doesn't seem bothered at all by the crowd of the magnitude of this event. I was expecting maybe a few people, less than a hundred. I think a couple of hundreds have shown. This is massive.
"What else have you learned?" Marcel asks me silently, people getting pressed against each other with excitement.
"He lives in Montreal. He has been interviewed by Shelley a couple of times. He is expecting us."
"He is?"
"Yeah. There were no tickets left, so she wrote to him to see if he could grant us an interview. We just can't say to anyone here that we're from Wright Books."
"Duly noted."
Since we don't have a ticket to show the coordinators, we are asked to wait a little farther next to another door that probably doesn't lead to the amphi-theatre like the other ones do. I'm getting a little stressed that we won't be able to get in and that it'll disappoint Shelley. But just as I see everybody heading in and us still waiting anxiously by, the door next to us opens up.
Marcel and I turn around in surprise and I recognise him instantly. Logan Kent is standing in front of us, clearly not expecting anyone as he seemed to be heading out and not inviting us in. I'm shaken to my core. I can barely breathe, he is even more grand than how the pictures captured him. Time seems to be going in slow motion. He looks at Marcel first, trying to walk past us until his eyes settle on me.
I must look like a gawking fool, but he seems as taken with me as I am with him. The tension builds quickly, he doesn't look away. I'm captivated by his gaze, I don't think to introduce myself nor Marcel. I'm simply at a loss of words. Wow!
"Emma?" He says and I look up at Marcel, trying to get a better hold of myself.
"Sorry, I'm Grace. Grace Hemingway. Shelley Prinston has sent us for the event." I manage to say, and I see him consider what I'm saying as he steps back to look at me thoroughly. It takes a second, but he finally seems to comprehend what I've just told him. He seems just as in shock as I am.
"I'm so sorry." He apologises with a thick accent that makes me swoon before I make sense of it. He's from Montreal, he must be a born French speaker. "I thought you were my wife. The resemblance is uncanny. Your hair, your eyes... I'm very sorry."
"Hi, I'm Marcel Wright, editor at Wright Books here in London. Grace is my girlfriend. We were sent to do an interview later." Marcel's voice sounds lower than usual. He extends his hand to Mr Kent to shake.
"Hey, I'm Logan Kent. Shelley told me you were coming." He shakes Mace's hand strongly, but turns his gaze back on me. I feel Mace's arm sneak around my waist and presses me to him. "I was on my way to call her actually. Would you mind giving me a moment? I'll let you in myself after."
I nod in response and watch him walk away, his cell phone in his hand. He stops a few metres away from us. He brings his phone to his ear, and I focus on hearing his conversation.
"Allô, mon amour. Comment vas-tu? Comment était ta journée?" I hear him say until Marcel asks me a question at the same time and my focus shifts to my beloved.
"Did you know it was him walking out?"
"It took me a moment to realise, but yeah. I think I saw a picture of him with Shelley at the end of her article." I tell and try to distract him from the subject with another question. "Someone got a little possessive?"
"You're mine. He had to know." He says with a categorical tone that makes me smile. It makes me feel great.
"It was sexy." I murmur to him as I get on the tip of my toes to press a quick kiss on his lips.
"Oh yeah?" He wraps his arms around me and murmurs, his breath tickling my lips. I nod in response and he tightens the gap between us in response. His nose caresses mine until I feel his lips pressed against mine a short instant.
I part from him and let my heels back on the ground as I notice Mr Kent coming back our way. I find his eyes already looking for mine. I break our gaze and take Marcel's hand into mine. I give it three quick squeezes. He looks down at me with a dimpled smile. I mirror him in response before following Mr Kent behind the door he came out of.
We follow him blindly to the side of the stage. He points us to the first row of seats that is indicated as a restricted area.
"You can take a seat there. It shouldn't be too long now. I have to set up my PowerPoint and it will start." He informs us and invites us with a hand to take the stairs down the side of the stage.
"Actually, would you mind if I recorded your presentation? It won't be for any other purpose than the articles I have to write for Shelley."
"I don't mind it, but don't let the coordinators see you. No pictures or recordings of any kind are allowed. I think they wrote it on the ticket."
"No worries, I'll be subtle. Thank you very much."
Marcel puts his hand on my back and guides me down the stairs to the first seats on the right of the first row. I take my notebook out of my bag and my favourite pen and take a seat next to Marcel.
"Would you mind holding on to my purse during the Masterclass? I'll take notes."
"Do you want me to record it as well? I could hide my phone behind your purse, so you'll have only your notes to manage." Mace suggests and it makes me smile widely, feeling incredibly thankful to have so much support.
"Yes, thank you. And thank you for being here with me. It means a lot. And I thought I told you not to tell anyone about your job..."
Marcel leans towards me slowly but stops when he is close enough to talk without being overheard by the row behind us.
"I know... I guess it was my way to establish a strong impression... I saw the way he looked at you, but I also saw the way you looked at him..." He is definitely struggling to say, a shy tone evident in his voice. Maybe he is hurt... Oh no...
"Yeah... I'm sorry about that. I was taken aback, I guess. I don't know..." I blur out, feeling sorry about my behaviour and how it might have made him feel. "How did that make you feel?"
He takes a moment and looks away. I don't want him to close himself off. I reach for his hand and hold it tenderly in mine. His attention falls back on us, on me. He sighs before he responds.
"Honestly, I felt the way I did when Ash was still in the picture."
I see him pull back and close himself off. I try to guess the issue to keep him opening up on how he feels.
"Like you had to compete for my attention?"
"Attention and affection." He completes, and it hurts me to know he has some scars from how I treated him when Ash was around. I understand how he could feel like my love and affection might not be loyal from the experience we've had in the past.
"I'm sorry I made you feel like that in the past, and I'm sorry you feel like that again. I love you, Marcel, I really do. I swear to you that, it will only be you. I will try to prove that to you everyday. I know what it might have seemed like with Logan Kent. He is gorgeous, I won't hide that. I just got momentarily drawn to him from an artistic point of view."
"What do you mean?"
"He makes me think of a Greek statue. It's as silly as that."
"I thought I was your Greek statue..."
"You are, my love. You are. And after our drawing session last night, I don't think I can find a better model than you." I lean in and press my forehead to his.
I'm about to lean in for a kiss when one of the coordinators comes up on stage to introduce tonight's lecture. I straighten myself on my seat and get my notebook ready. Marcel takes out his phone and starts the recording. He settles it on his thigh, hidden behind my purse for no one to see. We both turn our attention to Logan Kent coming on stage.
At the sight of him, I feel Marcel's hand on my thigh. I smile at it, take it and give it a quick peck before redirecting my attention to the front of the room.
Once he's introduced, Logan walks down the stage and introduces himself with a PowerPoint presentation as he walks freely in the room between rows to engage with his audience. He is indeed very charismatic.
Since he walked around the whole time, I didn't really spend time looking at him. I read his slides and focused on writing down everything that is written since the recorder can't catch what is shown on screen. My hand doesn't stop writing the whole time. Either his slides are captivating or he is. In any case, I write down everything. A couple of times, Marcel leans in and tells me to underline information to ask him about later during our interview.
When Logan is concluding his presentation, he stands tall at the front row to thank everybody present here today. He invites the people that want him to sign their books at the front. He easily jumps and sits on the edge of the stage.
I feel sad it doesn't last longer. He's had such an interesting life. He turned every misfortune into an opportunity to greater himself and his writing. I will definitely be taking advantage of some of his tricks. He's shown his love for great story outlines and his way to divide his ideas into categories. He's shared his writing routine. It's been very educational. It inspires me to use his model and outline my stories from now on.
A long line of people wait for the opportunity to meet him. He has a radiant smile and a kind word for each of them. He takes their book and lays them on his thigh to sign. Seeing the length of the line, I know we'll have to wait a long time before having him to ourselves for the interview.
Before I turn my attention away to read back all of my notes and discuss the interview with Marcel, Logan Kent glances at me with a gorgeous smile destined for his reader. I nod in response, telling him we'll wait as long as it takes.
Marcel is stopping the recorder and rewinding it to make sure we can hear Logan properly. He brings his phone to his ear, and I can hear it as well. He stops it and taps quickly on his screen to send it to me via AirDrop. The download is long, so we review my notes together. I get curious about Marcel's writing routine.
"Do you have a writing routine?" I ask him, crossing my leg towards him.
"Are you sure you want to talk about my story? "
"I wouldn't be asking if I wasn't."
"Kate showed me her way of drafting and outlining a story. That's what we used."
"How could you have outlined your story if it was based on our lives?"
"Kate thought it would be a fun way to stimulate me by giving me objectives or missions. That's what she called them. One of the chapters was about taking you to lunch, so I did. One of the chapters was to make you give your panties to somebody, so I made you do it. One of the chapters was to make a big dramatic declaration..."
"So you did... When you first told me you loved me..."
"Yeah..."
"Did you mean it then?"
"I did. I just didn't know to what extent... The truth is... Part of me was fine with Kate's missions because I needed every excuse possible to spend time with you. It was the smallest things. I wanted to write to you to share with you my readings. I wanted to call you just to hear your voice. I never did because I hate speaking on the phone. But I held back so much. I always had you on my mind."
"I'm so happy we get to talk about these things. I'm very thankful that you shared how you felt earlier. I never thought that my relationship with Ash might have scarred you, in a way... To me, in my head, Ash wasn't a big deal. I wasn't in love with him. There was attraction, yes, but nobody could ever compare to you. I needed Ash to be ready for you. Ash was only transitional between who I was and who I became. He made me realise that there was a world outside my life with Steeve. He made me realise I shouldn't settle for less because I didn't know what else was out there. And because of that, I decided to risk it all with you. You were so far out of my league. You are a Doctor in Literature. You have your own place. You have your pilot licence. You had your whole life figured out. You had an amazing job in the company, no matter your family name. And I was just a lucky girl, having her book published, working at Nando's, emotionally drained from how miserable my life was and I wasn't even realising it."
"I understand that, but it wasn't how it felt. Every time I saw you with him, you had a smile on your face. I didn't feel worthy of you. It was mentally very hard to realise that I wasn't making you smile the way he did. That I was only bringing you pain."
"You weren't. It's not because I wasn't always smiling that I wasn't happy. Just being in your presence makes me happy. But do you say that you 'were only bringing me pain' because of your story?"
"I regretted writing about you in a negative perspective. I... don't know why I did. And even now, I feel bad, because every moment that should be precious in our relationship was orchestrated by Kate. It feels like every milestone in our relationship was false. It's a tough burden to live with."
"You shouldn't live with that. What is done is done, and I have fully forgiven you. Yes, it was heartbreaking what you did, what happened to us. We were both victims... But I wouldn't change a thing. I love the Marcel I knew, and I love the Marcel with me here today. We've changed, we've evolved, and I think it makes us more appreciative of what life gives us and the opportunities on our paths. I know I've found a soulmate in you, and I wouldn't waste that over anything. Not even a Greek God like Logan Kent."
"I'm happy to have made such an impression, Miss Hemingway."
Oh Lord, has he really heard that?!