Chapter 24: Juliet
When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was that lame portrait of Evander on the side of the bed. Same old, same old. Wait. Wait, wait, wait.
What happened last night?
Oh, god. Everything came rushing back. Me and Marcus. The club. The hallway. We kissed, and I totally unloaded all my drama on him. How am I even going to look at him today? I checked the time: 9:47 AM. He's probably still home, sitting there eating breakfast like he didn't just rock my entire world a few hours ago. I'm starving, but there's no way I can just walk out there and join him.
Thump, thump, thump!
I jumped, nearly falling off the mattress. Who could be at the door right now? Please don't let it be him. I scrambled back, curling myself into a ball inside the comforter until only my eyes were peeking out.
The door opened, and Marcus walked in. He didn't even hesitate; he just came over and sat on the edge of the bed.
"Why are you hiding from me?"
I sat up, pulling the blanket tight around my chest to face him. "I am not hiding."
"You look like you could eat a horse." He set a tray down, holding out a bowl. "Here is your hangover soup. After you eat this, take this pill for your head. It's going to burst later if you don't."
I couldn't help it; I chuckled. He looked so serious about my recovery. "Did you cook the soup?" I asked, taking the bowl from him.
"No, someone cooked. I've got a meeting. Bye, darling."
He stood up and headed for the door before I could even say thank you. Butterflies started flying in my stomach, and as soon as the door clicked shut, I dove back into my pillow, muffling a scream of pure embarrassment and excitement.
The rest of the day was just another boring stretch at work. Honestly, imagine if I had a migraine on top of this. I had to thank Marcus's medication for the fact that my head wasn't actually exploding.
The professor told me he'd give his answer in three months. I don't even know why I'm excited when I already know what he's going to say. I just wish he had really heard me.
"Looks like someone is having a bad day at work."
That voice. I looked up, and my stomach twisted into knots, remembering exactly what happened last night. It was Marcus.
"Indeed," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
He didn't say anything at first. He just placed a container of Oreo ice cream on the table. My favorite. I felt my cheeks get hot immediately.
"I know you hate waiting in lines, so I got you delivery." He leaned down, resting his elbow on the table, looking way too good for a Tuesday afternoon. "Let's go home, darling. I'll wait in the parking lot. Don't keep me waiting."
He gave me a quick wink and walked out. I bit my lip, watching him go. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of thinking he has this much dominance over me, but I started checking out anyway. It's not like I love my job that much.
I figured he'd drive us straight back, but instead, he pulled into the local supermarket.
"What are we doing here?" I asked as he cut the engine.
"Getting ready," he replied, unclicking his seatbelt.
I raised an eyebrow. "For what?"
"For a movie time."
"Okay... but are you really leaving your car here?" I looked around the parking lot, feeling uneasy. "I mean, they have no security."
I tucked a stray hair behind my ear, feeling nervous. He leaned over, getting closer and closer. For a second, I was sure he was going to kiss me again. My breath hitched, but he just reached past me, unlocked my seatbelt with a loud click, and got out of the car.
We wandered into the food section. I'd never actually been inside this supermarket before. From the outside, it looks a bit grumpy and old, but the inside was massive. There were like fifty choices for every single thing.
"So, do you shop here?" I asked, watching him look through the freezer.
"Yes." He sounded short, like the conversation was already boring him. Typical Marcus.
"Oreo or caramel?" he asked, holding up two tubs.
"Oreo. What about you?" I asked, trying to give the conversation one more shot.
"I don't like sweets."
Oh. That explained everything. I remembered our dinner—when I ordered that sweet wine, he'd gone for something way stronger.
"Hey, bud! How are you?" A guy working there walked up and dapped Marcus up like they were old friends.
"Everything's good, man," Marcus replied.
"Yeah? You're here with a lady?" The guy rubbed his eyes teasingly, leaning in. "She your girlfriend?"
"No," Marcus replied. His voice was cold as ice.
Ouch.
"Okay, okay. How can I help?" The worker clearly took the hint that Marcus wasn't in the mood for jokes.
"Can you please explain to this young woman why you guys don't have security?" Marcus pointed at me.
The guy grinned at me. "Well, hello! I'm Bellingham. I'm from North London. I used to work in grocery stores where the security staff was higher than the customer count. But here? People mind their business. They just shop, pay, and leave. This market has been open for almost forty years without security, and a theft has never occurred. I assume you were afraid Mr. Marcus's car would get stolen?"
What a narration. This guy was a character.
"Yes... and thanks for the thorough explanation," I said, feeling a little silly.
"You are welcome, ma'am. I will take my leave then." He waved and started talking to another customer.
When I turned back, Marcus was already gone. He'd finished shopping while I was listening to Bellingham's life story.
"Wait! I'm here, remember?" I shouted, running through the aisle to catch up to him.