Marcus walks into the dingy, smoky bar and takes a deep breath. He sees her sitting there, laughing and pulling a drag off of her cigarette. Fuck, she’s still beautiful. Fuck, fuck, she’s still calm. He slides in next to her, “Hey you.” She lights up. Her eyes light into a brilliant open blue. Even now, is it possible? It’s been so long. She ruffles his hair, and he relaxes.Fuck, it’s still the same. She obliterated him years ago. She left with a skip. She left him alone, why is she happy to see him? What sort of game is this? Why is he feeling giddy? There is no time for small talk, they jump into banter, laughing, joking, teasing, staring. He is looking deep within those eyes again, and she is not faltering.
His boys appear as back up. They are out for him. They will fight for him. They will point out the absurd. Her flaws will become apparent, her facade will be broken! She will crumble and leave defeated! They are laughing at her jokes. They are carrying on intelligent conversations with her. Fuck, Hell, shit, they are fawning. She is looking back at him. He can do nothing but wink, and she softens. She has not spoken to her friend, her back up, in hours, it seems. She hasn’t needed to. She is comfortable. She is winning. She’s delving deeper, she is focusing on him. He sees love. Even now, he feels love. Why is she not breaking? Why is his panic subsiding? There are shouts, hoots, hollers. His friend is telling her she looks like a movie star. Oh, no. He’s asking if she gets that a lot. This is bad. This is very, very bad. No good can come of this. Except... He puts the thought out of his mind and orders another beer. They exchange another glance and he turns his attention to the band.
No comments:
Post a Comment