I get awaken with a good shake of my body from a hand owned by the green-eyed man staring at me. I jump of surprise and look around me. It's dark out and my bags aren't with me.
"My bags?! They got stolen!" I let out, my heart racing inside of me. These are the last things I own, I can't have lost them!
"No, there are not. I got them to my room a minute ago. Relax." He coldly informs me as I straighten myself on the chair, wiping the drool I might have on the sides of my mouth.
"Thank you... Why didn't you answer my texts?" I ask calmly, looking at him standing in front of me.
He pushes his glasses on his nose and crosses his arms together.
"I was driving to London. I had a meeting. I just came back. I answered you."
"I don't have my phone... It stayed at the flat and I can't go back. I left him." I look down and I feel so small in that chair. I don't know how to process Marcel's attitude, but with the adrenaline all gone, I am left ashamed and shaking, tears rushing again to my eyes.
"Come on." He says and turns around to walk to his room.
I get up in a hurry and follow him. He wears a black tee with black jeans, moulding his body perfectly. My sight gets lost on his skin. It looks so smooth. I frown and remember... He drove to London and back to be there for me?!
He unlocks his door and opens it wide for me to get in. I find my bags by the telly and this huge bed perfectly made. His computer is set on the little study, with his satchel on the floor next to it. His luggage is on a large chair at the corner of the room. It's really clean and cosy.
He closes the door behind him and I don't make more than a few steps. I turn to look at him and I feel incredibly lucky that he is here at all. He didn't have to drive all this way and show me support more than work related.
My body thinks before my head and I step closer to him to sneak my arms around his waist. My head presses itself on his chest, pulling him to me in a hug. My hands slide on his shirt to pull him tighter to make this embrace warm and comfortable, but he rips himself off me.
"You need to stop doing that!" He warns me roughly, as it bruises my ego. I quickly feel the need to justify myself.
"It was a thankful hug. I am sorry. I needed it and thought you wouldn't mind." I step away with shame, thinking back how he regretted the kiss we shared last night. I quickly dry my tears, feeling more rejected than ever. I take a hold of my necklace around my neck and toy nervously with the charm hanging from the chain.
What a mistake it was!
He stays silent and looks at me, making me feel even more horrible about myself.
"I mind." He says and it really digs the ache in my heart of being rejected that way.
I understand I overstepped and after being rejected by him last night, I shouldn't have hugged him. I know he isn't the hugging person at all, but I need it. I have just left everything I have ever known for the biggest gamble of my life. I don't know if this work with Marcel on my book will be successful. There's no guarantees. And I have always lived my life by a plan. I seem to have screwed it up big time now. I just want some comfort in my distress.
"You have been so kind to me, Marcel. It didn't engage you into anything, it's just a hug..." I shake my head and turn around, realising the mess I am. "I guess you aren't the only man I disgust today..." I murmur and look for a way to escape this awkward exchange between us, wiping the tears from my face. I walk towards the bed to sit.
"You don't. Where do you get these ideas?!" He gets closer, softening his voice for once, which makes me turn back around to, shamefully, look at him again.
"Steeve..."
"I should get back there and break his skull!" He walks to the bed in a hurry to take a pillow and throw it against the wall with anger. What is happening!?
"Marcel! Why are you being so aggressive? It's OK, it's over..." I walk over to him and put a hand on his back reassuringly.
"It isn't, Grace. You still see yourself as how he wanted you to. You are not disgusting, stop believing that."
"Alright, I won't. Just calm down. He doesn't deserve your anger." I whisper as my hand rubs circles on his back to help him to oblige. He has no idea how these simple words mean si much to me right now. I want to hug him so hard right now, but I stop myself to not messeverything up again.
"Just like he doesn't deserve to make you feel like shit." I roll my eyes and sigh, he is right.
He turns to the side slowly, being perpendicular to me, and looks right into my eyes. I feel his hand on my cheek which surprises me, I wince before I realise what he is doing. He looks down at my mouth and runs now his thumb on the cut on my lower lip. I remember how hard I had bit it to cut it that bad.
"He hurt you. He shouldn't have hit you." He says bitterly and gets his hand off me.
"We don't solve violence with violence, Marcel. It's over now. I want to thank you for being there for me. You could have not cared, but you do. Thank you." I slowly say to him as I feel him calm down under my hand on his back.
"I am just doing the right thing..." He murmurs and I feel tremendously happy mostly because he doesn't stop me from caressing his back. I feel his muscles relax under my hand. I look up at him carefully, asking for permission.
I get closer and closer to him, very slowly, dancing way too close to his limits. I risk it and sneak my other arm around his waist to hug him again. He says nothing, so I mould my body to his, pressing my head back to his chest. It's so silent in the room that I can hear the sound of his heart inside of his rib cage. Loud, but slow poundings. I think about letting him go when his arms move against me. I let him embrace me back and melt against him a short moment. He holds me so strongly against him with an arm as his other hand presses my head tighter to him, almost protectively.
I have never felt safer in my life.
I nuzzle my nose against his shirt and breath him in. His cologne has a strong scent of wood which makes me remember the wall of lugs Dad kept in the basements and all the fires we did in the fireplace when I was young. It comforts me instantly. I am ravishing more than I should between his arms.
"You smell good." I let out, which comes out as a kind of moan and it makes me feel very awkward, but he doesn't seem to notice.
"It's my perfume." He only responds, still holding me with more strength than expected.
"I know." I smile against him, happy he doesn't want to let go already.
"It was a gift."
"You could have just said thank you..." I smirk at him wider by the second as he lets out a surprising chuckle and lets me go to look into my eyes.
"Thank you." He smiles at me for the first time today.
I seem to get lost in this moment, looking back at him, and I surprise myself to wish he would kiss me, but I know that he won't or would want to. I am just happy he is here at all. I don't know why I seem to want to get physical with him. It's not like I am attracted to him -- OK, he is pretty... Gorgeous, even. Stop denying it, he is fucking hot!-- but he is so cold and unreadable at times. I don't get why I would be risking the only thing I got left, my book, by attempting to get some sugar from my editor. I mean... The guy is inaccessible. He is in his shell and he doesn't let anyone in. I don't know what I thought last night... Last night.
But as I think all this, I find myself wanting to do it again. It's weird how I can hate the man, but there's something about him that triggers something in me. It's weird, I don't understand it and it must be tamed, but as he looks back into my eyes, I am starting to feel hot. I won't kiss him, I can't and I don't want to. I lick my lips and hold my breath, my body betrays me. Why isn't he moving or saying something that will make me hate him back to normal?!
A ringing sound breaks the spell he had on me and I frown and look down as he does. He takes out his phone from his pocket and frowns deeper as he answers, clearly annoyed and cold again.
"Hello? Why are you calling me?" He frowns and looks away from me, turning his back. "She is with me, at my hotel for now, she is fine." He turns his head to look at me quickly as my mind spins trying to find out who might be calling him to talk about me. "Yes. Yes, I will drive her. We'll pick you up. Are you done, now? We got work to do!"
I frown instantly as I am paying attention to everything he says, barely faking to be looking at the documents on his desk next to his laptop. Work?! Of course, we do, but I didn't think he would want to get back so soon into it. I am not in the mood at all. I just want to hide myself in a bed and watch movies all night. It saddens me a bit that that's what we'll do. I don't know if I expected anything else, but I am disappointed.
"I'll change her mind, yes, Ronnie. Yes, she'll dress up. I'll make sure of it. I am hanging up now. Go back to work. See you then." He hangs up the second he is done talking and I take a seat on the chair, facing his desk, but looking at him.
"What was that about?!" I ask him calmly, but hearing my best friend's name did bring out a bit of jealousy back inside me, but I shrug it off.
He walks to the bed and sits on the corner in front of me to look at me.
"She wants to take you out tonight to celebrate, and I quote, 'what you should have done long ago'. She wants you to make yourself pretty." He runs a hand through his hair, looking suddenly away.
"I don't feel like going out..." I let out and sigh letting my head fall back. "I would much prefer hiding somewhere and pitying myself with ice cream." I mumble and straighten my head back to pout at him slightly.
He chuckles a bit, which brings automatically a genuine smile to my lips. I look at him more directly and frown.
"What's your favourite movie?" I ask him with my entire attention, being very curious to know about his answer.
He frowns and looks at his hands on his lap, awkwardly toying with the side of his finger. I look at him thoroughly, as he did with me moments before. I think I see a glimpse of a smile on the corner of his lips. It pleases me.
"Dunkirk." He only responds, but it makes him smile wider.
"I love that movie." I let out enthusiastically to actually have seen his favourite movie know it and love it as well.
"I think I have seen it, at least, thirty times." He gets as carried away as he can be and it excites me, seeing him so happy and smiling. It makes me feel all giddy inside, I have to keep the conversation going.
"Have you seen it in IMAX? It was so great, I had to see it twice in theatres."
"Yes, I have seen it a bit more than that in theatres..." He murmurs softly, scratching the back of his neck.
"Tell me!" I have never thought he would let loose or get that excited about something so simple. He seems so rational all the time, I never thought he could be so passionate.
"Six times..." He admits and I don't understand why he seems to answer me with shame, it makes me frown, but I want to keep that side of him coming out.
"Wow! I would love to watch it with you sometime. You always analyse everything, so I would love to know your input." I get as carried away, but I realise how this sounds and I regret suggesting it.
"I would love that..." He smiles at me and I melt onto my chair. He would love that.
I am happy he is opening up to me. I thought I had ruined it all last night, but it doesn't seem to bother him anymore. I don't think he looks at me differently and I am so very glad.
I look at him, lost in my thoughts, and the smile on my lips grows wider as I realise something.
"You actually look like one of the characters. Alex, I think his name is." I let out and he smirks instantly back at me. I feel so proud to be the reason behind his smiles.
"Thank you. He is my favourite character." He responds, a spark in his eyes. "He has so much depth. He kind of had a preconception of what being a soldier was going to be like. He gained a status and used it, being fundamentally oblivious to the reality behind the war. He got into it knowing he was going to kill people and willing to make that sacrifice, forgetting who he is in all of that. There's a purity in that innocence, a different one than Tommy has."
I keep on smiling, loving every second of his explanation. I didn't expect one, nor wanted one, but he speaks with so much passion I can't help but to feel drawn to him. Everytime he explain something to me, I am charmed. I love to learn and I feel like I could listen to him talk for hours. He knows so much and I love the way he thinks. He has a point of view so different from mine, it drives me crazy sometimes, but it makes me open my mind to other perspectives. I like that.
"I feel kind of bad to just answer that my favourite character is Gibson, without any explanations." I giggle and watch him do the same.
"It's OK, but I'll expect it when we'll watch that movie, though." He smirks wider.
"Deal!" I answer proudly and lay my hand in front of him to shake his hand to seal the deal.
He takes it without further thoughts and squeezes it lightly, but his handshake still feels firm and friendly. It doesn't last long, but it makes me feel like I could finally have a good relationship with him and not always fear the next roadblock.
"What about we work on that story of yours now?" He takes back his hand and gets off the bed to come and take his computer from the desk in front of me.
"Urgh..." I whine playfully and pout at him.
"I know how you must not be in the mood after what you've been through today, but sex might exactly be what you need to change your mind." I think he tries to joke, but talking about sex with him is freezing the blood in my veins. I decide to be upfront and very franc with him.
"Is it normal for me to be terrified?" I let out once I gathered my courage, being barely audible.
He frowns and stops moving to look at me intently. He doesn't talk for a very long time and it seems so fucking long. I'm starting to feel even more paranoid. I shouldn't have told him. I'm sure he is judging me.
"What terrifies you?" He asks calmly, his voice not judging me whatsoever.
"I don't know... Talking about that... With you." I admit with shame as I feel his gaze burning a hole in me and I can't seem to hold it for more than a second.
"There's nothing to be terrified about, Grace." He smiles at me, if he doesn't laugh at me.
"What are you expecting of me, essentially?" I frown being clearly, on my guards, not knowing what to expect.
"To write a scene that will illustrate the passion and the deep connection the lovers have. They are so different, polar opposites really, but their passion and their union are so strong it has to be fuelled by sex, to reach another level of intimacy. Even Romeo and Juliet had sex, so there's no need to be prude."
"What do you suggest, then?"
"I want you to write a scene. We will start with that. Just one and then we'll discuss it together and review it to see if it ruins the fundamental essence of the story." He clarifies and I am surprised by how understanding and smooth he is being with me, so I feel more at ease to ask my questions.
"I have never written that kind of stuff... How do I make it realistic? How do I describe that?" I ask him, still with an uneasy feeling inside of me, but his good mood really helps me to open myself about it.
"Mmmh..." He looks around and puts down his computer next to him on the bed. "Come here."
He invites me to join him on his bed and the stress is back. My heart is pounding and his smile worries me on his intentions. I weirdly shake a little, but I oblige, get up and crawl to the middle of the bed to get comfortable against his pillows.
"You didn't have to get that far." He smiles and slides closer to me to face me. He frowns, very seriously, looking at me from closer than I am comfortable with. "Do you trust me, Grace?"
I hesitate and look at him very thoroughly through every feature of his face. He seems so kind and I think about how I felt when I was hugging him earlier. I don't know why I think about that, it didn't mean anything, but I did feel safe. He did drive all this way to help me personally through my break up with Steeve. He didn't have to.
"I do. I trust you." I whisper despite of myself and breathe in profoundly.
I set my eyes right in his, waiting for what is to come, what he will do. He moves and I give his arms my attention as they lay in front of me. They hover over my crossed legs.
"We'll do something together, OK?" He says and it makes me smile.
"This is weird." I nervously giggle and he mirrors me, making me relax some more.
"I know it is, but I think this could help you."
"How could your arms help me?"
"Touch me."
"What?!" I react instantly, and straighten myself to be farther to him than I was seconds ago. My heart pounds in my chest under the adrenaline.
"I am offering you my arms, I want you to touch my skin. I will describe what I feel to make you at ease to share the human contact that will be the same with the scene I am asking you to write. I really want you to feel the depth of how a simple touch can mean so much." He says, keeping his collected attitude as I have trouble breathing for a second. It still feels weird, but this might be a good idea.
"OK..." I mumble and hover my hands over his arms as he asked.
I look at his bare arms laying face down and wonder how I should proceed. I look at his hands a second, his knuckles are scarred, they seem redder than usual. They look sensible so I'll try to be careful to not touch them. He closes his eyes and I finally feel free to dive entirely in the exercise. I put my hands right under both his elbows and keep them there until I hear his voice. I look at him, his eyes still shut as he tells me exactly what I am doing through how he feels.
"The contact is warm and welcomed since I had been waiting a long time to feel it. The heat radiates through my arms to reach my heart and slowly grows as you caress slowly my skin down to my hands. The contact is soft, something I am not accustomed to. It pleases me. It leaves a trail of numbness behind, pleased to feel something as little as the featherlite touch of your fingers sliding to my hands. It's like I am discovering you for the first time. It's comfortable and unexpected. The caress continues as both of your hands take a hold of mine, turning it to open myself to you. Your touch feels more gentle on the inside of my arms than it ever did on me. The contact of our skins feels like we are melting together, uniting as one being. It's something so much more than physical. It's spiritual, it's soulful. I can't describe it, but I feel stronger and vulnerable at the same time. There's conflict inside of me ignited by the simple touch of our skin that opposes strong forces I never thought I could feel. I never expected to feel that way. It tickles my skin to every of your caress, but to only increase the feeling when it leaves me."
Everything he said makes me feel very perplex. How much can I read into this?! I don't know how to react, so I keep going and get very intrigued with his tattoos on the inside of each of his arms. I start to run my thumbs on them, leaning closer when I see he just opened his eyes. He slowly takes back his arms.
"I think you get the idea..." He lets out and I straighten myself back against the pillows like I initially was.
"Did you mean everything you said?" I courageously ask him, my eyes getting lost in his as he seems less open than he was earlier.
"I was into character, Grace. It was not sexual, but describe the situation as you feel it, in that case, as you felt it before." He pushes me to do it. I know I can, but I don't know why I feel so intimidated towards him.
"But where do I start?! The touch of their hands?"
"You can, but it was only an example to inspire you, how so little can feel so much."
I take the laptop on the bed and open it to reveal the scene he had chosen for me to complete. I read it back to get me in the mood, but it is not working. I need music and wander on Internet. With the exercise Marcel and I just did, it inspires me the acoustic version of the song Touch by Little Mix. It's both sexy and incredibly sweet. It really brings out the romantic and passionate side I need.
Marcel frowns at the sound of the music, but he just looks at me work without adding another word. He stays silent in front of me until he inevitably sees how nothing is helping. I am at a loss of words. I must look blankly at my screen for about ten excruciating long minutes without any words flowing onto the screen.
"Need help?" He sweetly asks and I am undeniably charmed by how sweet he is being to me tonight.
"Yes... I thought the song would help, but I am just not in the mood, I think." I sigh desperately, very disappointed I can't write what he wants from me.
"Let's reverse the roles." He takes the laptop away from me, but lets the song play in the background. "I didn't want to come to this, but it seems like you need a little push." I get very offended by his comment and I think he reads it on my face, so he rushes an explication. "I am not used to be affectionate, I have never really been one to do these kind of things. So, forgive my rudeness if ever I am being too clumsy."
I think this is the most adorable thing he has ever admitted to me. I was tempted to joke, but he is opening up like blossoming flowers slowly but beautifully and I love it. One way or another, I will crack his shell. I really think we can be great friends. He is already being such an understanding editor.
"Close your eyes." He asks as he kneels in front of me instead of being seated like I am. It gives him more room to move.
I oblige and let my other senses take over my sight and I instantly feel the song better. I wait a couple of seconds, resisting to the desire to open my eyes and look at Marcel in front of me. I feel him move in front of me before I feel his hands laying themselves on my arms, rubbing my skin weirdly, until he becomes at ease, imitating what I did to him.
"How do you feel?" He whispers, wanting to make me get my feelings to flow through my words.
"It's unusual. It's warm, hurried, messy, but it inspires me comfort. The more you touch me, the more at ease you feel with my skin and I welcome the sensation. The higher your hands get on my arms, the more you feel me, you discover me in a way you never have before, in a way I secretly want you to. Your hand runs lightly on the skin of my neck, electrifying its way to my cheek you cup. The heat spreads inside my body making my heart to accelerate to an irregular pounding that is new to me. I have known love, I have known lust, but this is something else. I am having trouble breathing... focusing... There's a deepness inside of me that sets free in a way I only feel when you touch me. You pull me to you by the waist giving me more of the contact I have been craving." I breathe in, completely lost in this exchange, letting Marcel completely control me and pull me to him. "Your hands are becoming firmer on my back, our chests colliding together, breathing heavier the same air I seem to be lacking of. You pull me to stand on my knees. The attraction is undeniable, making me entirely under your spell, in a way where I am desperate for more intimacy. I hold my breath... I can't speak... I am driven by the fire you have sparked inside of my soul, inside of my head and inside of my core. I am having trouble to tame the desire you have awoken inside. Your touch makes me crave you like I never have before. I can feel myself getting wetter and the tickling in my chest hardening my nipples to your presence against me." I breathe in, feeling him so close to me, completely drunken on the spell he puts me under. I feel his breath against my skin, his nose brushes mine and I know just how close he is. My heart gets lost in a song that drums too quickly yo make sense. He is so close.
"Grace?" He lets out, but I keep my eyes close to ravish in this moment a little longer.
"Mmh..." I moan, pouting slightly, as my chest rises high with every beat of my heart, my eyes still closed.
"I'm going to kiss you, but it's strictly for professional purposes, OK?" My heart seems to pace even faster, my lips feeling giddy and numb with anticipation.
"Do what you must..." I murmur as I feel a hand sliding through my locks of blonde hair to grip my head strongly. I breathe in his breath, the desire and infatuation spreading inside of me even before I feel his hot and moist lips on mine.
The contact alone is making me feel heavier on the mattress as my heart seems to fly free inside of my chest. I allow myself to touch him back to get the optimal experience. I slide my hands on his shirt, taking in the muscles I feel under as I make my way to cup his cheeks.
It's becoming very hot, very quickly. It's rushed, but there's a beauty to that messiness. It's passionate. That's what it is. His lips are controlling mine as they mould into the most consuming exchange I have ever had. His tongue dances his way into my mouth and I savour the moment, the sparks, the fireworks, the chemistry, the attraction. I can barely breath.
His hand pulls me hard against his chest, melting me into him quite literally. We are burning up from the fever of our infatuation. I cling onto him as he pulls me closer, making me step over him to straddle his legs. I have never felt that daring before, I am just craving more. I am high on his affection. It's a drug I can not get enough of. I can feel chills running from my tail bone to the roots of my hair in ecstasy.
I pant, catching back my breath each time I can, but it gets harder as he sneaks his hands under my shirt to feel more of my skin. I feel it through every of my nerve to the tip of my toes. It tickles my core to a point where I can't help but to roll my hips absentmindedly on him. He runs his hands on my sides to my bra where his fingers have no trouble to slide under. Electricity strikes again as I can barely go on kissing him, his thumbs run on my sensible nipples and I shiver from pleasure. He grabs handfuls of my breasts and pushes them together, massaging them in circular motions. It's such a bliss to be touched so pleasurably. I have never felt that around in my life. It's so good.
I hear him groan in pleasure, desire or frustration, so I want him to keep making that arousing noise. I keep on wanting more of him, so, despite of myself, I slide my hands under his shirt as well, with the intention of taking it off, but he steps away slowly. Our kiss breaking the spell, our lips regretfully leaving one another.
I open my eyes to find him looking at me already, an unreadable glance in his eyes. I am heavily feeling the aftermath of what just happened and I am not quite ready to let it go. So, I risk myself another kiss. I slide both of my hands on his cheeks and gently mould my lips to his, like two puzzle pieces that go perfectly together. I close my eyes and press my kiss on him one last time, before I step back and rub my thumbs on the baby smooth skin of his cheeks. He shaved.
I smile widely and let out a giggle as I notice I am still sitting on him, so I immediately crawl back to my initial place against his pillows. I can't read him, I truly can't, but I feel good. I feel so energised, electrified, high really.
"I think I got a bit carried away by my character right there." I grin to him and take back the laptop to really let it all out.
I don't leave anything unsaid. It has really worked. I close my eyes a few times, my head dancing to my imagination as my words have never been more naughty and extremely descriptive. Marcel got me so aroused that I convey everything into my writing. I move on the bed, swaying slowly my body to the desire building very high inside of me. Marcel stays a witness of my circus sitting right in front of me as I have never felt more inspired to write something like that. I want it to be good. I want it to be a fantasy for the readers, realistic, but exciting for them as well. I give it my all.
And in an hour, it's done. I turn the screen to Marcel to show him a thousand words on seduction, lust, love and passion. My heart is still going wild in my chest as I am more turned on than I have ever been and no one to make me feel good. Maybe I'll meet my temporary fix tonight and forget all my problems for the moment of a good time.
I look at Marcel, reading quietly in front of me, taking his time. The first time I start to doubt and get slowly off my high is when I hear him clear his throat. He doesn't make any comment and crosses his legs to be more comfortable with the computer on his knees. I talk to him only when his eyes meet mine again.
"And? Is it any good?" I look at him, worried about what he thinks of this new sexy part in my story.
"It didn't need to be that explicit, but alright. It works. I am actually ashamed to tell you how much it works. But... Yeah." He doesn't really look at me, he seems uncomfortable.
"What do you mean?"
"It's well written. Your definitions are on point. I didn't think you had that in you." He chuckles lightly and goes on before I get offended. "It's actually a very good compliment."
"It is?"
"Trust me, Grace, it is." He smirks at me and adjusts himself again.
I look at him as he moves and happen to gaze at his laptop, more precisely, what's under, and I understand what he means. I blush very hard, maybe not as hard as he is, my smirk is growing very proudly on my lips. I lay back on the pillows behind me and stretch. I am very proud of myself. I've just given him an erection, I don't need another validation. His is the only one I need. And the only one I want.
I arch my back to make it crack since I have been in an uncomfortable position for an hour, writing my scene. It feels good. I feel good. I feel empowered. Just like that, with the power of my words, I have turned Marcel on. It wasn't my body or my looks, but my way of thinking, my way with words. I feel strong and I am really embracing this idea of going out tonight. I want to be at my best. Fuck Steeve! I'll make him regret everything he did to me. I should have been cherished. I should have been loved with at least a quarter of the passion and the attention Marcel gives me. I want to be at my best, because I feel at my best like I have never been. It's like Marcel had just made me realise who I am. I am one with all the sides of myself, the true and uncensored artist that lays within me. That's a huge accomplishment. For once in my life, I have a great esteem of myself. I know my worth and that is sexy.
I get up quickly and off the bed to walk in the room for one of my bags of clothes. I take it with me and head to the bathroom, not even looking at Marcel. I'll leave him to whatever he wants and give him his privacy to cool off.
"I am taking a shower, I won't be too long." I let out and close the door behind me.
-
"Come on, a little makeup won't hurt." Ronnie says as she already is taking a long time to do a work of art on my face.
I am surprised how patient Marcel is, not that I care, but he hasn't complained about anything. He has been sitting on his bed with the computer on his knees, occasionally glancing over, as Ronnie has been doing my hair and makeup at his desk.
When she is done, we leave the hotel to drive Ronnie to her place to change. Marcel and I wait in the car as she gets ready. It's awkwardly silence for the first two long minutes where we both look at the same empty street next to us from the front seats.
"Tell me if I am being too personal, but you told me you weren't used to being 'affectionate'. Why not?" I ask slowly as I have been haunted by his confession and I have been adding the puzzle pieces together with the night he has spent with Ronnie.
"That's just not what I am used to. Why do you ask me that?" He frowns and doesn't look at me, but at his hands on his wheel.
"I am just trying to figure you out..."
"Is it really that hard?"
"It is."
He doesn't say anything, but he looks out his window, facing away from me and I really want to get to know him better. I want him to talk to me. We were getting on so good today in all the confusing weirdness that happened.
"What are you thinking about?" I ask him gently, getting more comfortable against my seat to look at him.
He turns his head as if he was surprised by my question, wearing the same frown. He has put his walls up again, but I don't mind. I think I can get them down again.
"Why do you want to know?"
"Because I care. This isn't small talk. I genuinely like talking to you and I do care a lot about your opinions and your thoughts. I might not agree or like them, but that's friendship."
"Friendship?"
"I consider driving from London to Manchester to help me move out of an unhappy relationship worthy of a friend status." I smile to him and I see him do the same. "I don't think I have thanked you properly. It means everything to me that you are here."
"It's nothing... I mean, we had to see each other to work on your story. I thought I could make the effort to come to you this time." I feel like he has to justify himself, but I am too happy to bother.
"I feel like I know nothing about you as you seem to know so much about me already..." I look into his eyes and watch him sigh and get comfortable against his seat to fully face me.
"Ask away."
"You know about all my relationships. I mean, my friendships with Ronnie and Sophie. You know about Steeve. You caught me cheating with Ash. I am very sorry about that by the way. You know about my relationship with my brothers. And there's you, wherever you want to stand... But, apart from the relationship with your Mum and Eddy, I know nothing. Do you have a girlfriend, an ex, other friends?"
"I am quite the loner actually, you already know that. People are not really fan of me."
"Maybe it's because you don't give them a chance."
"New relationships are too much work I don't want to get into. I have learned to spot the good from the rotten fruits."
That leaves me a bit perplexed, but I'm feeling too good. I feel sexy and sassy.
"And what am I?"
"The purest of them." He says and my heart seems to stop beating for a second before starting to slowly pound in my chest.
He has been sending me mixed signals ever since he got here. I know it's not a good idea to get involved in anyway with him because of our work relationship, but I can't deny how he makes me feel. It's weird and I have been trying to deny it, but it's completely new. He never says anything nice, so when he does, it means all the more to me. I can't deny it no more, my body and my heart betray me. I need to know where he stands. I'm sure it's all in my head, but I need the truth to let go.
"Enlighten me, Marcel, please, because I don't know how to think." I let out a bit clumsily because of my desperation, but I gather my courage to continue. "You say all these nice things, you kissed me back... I mean... I don't want things to be awkward between us, but tell me why I shouldn't have done that... Why did you leave? I get what happened earlier was to inspire me, but-"
"I'm ready to go, now! Let's get Grace tanked up enough to forget about the mistake she made to stay with that jerk for five years." Ronnie hurries in the car, cutting me in the middle of what was being the most pathetic speech ever.
Although I really wanted my answers, I am almost glad she cut me there. I am definitely ready to drink that shameful moment away from my memory.
.