Page 6 of The Destined SEAL
Marcus leans away from our embrace and sets his hands on top of my shoulders. With a wide grin, he leans forward and presses his lips against my forehead. “We can order takeout.We can rent that rom-com you wanted to see. How does that sound?” he asks, eyes hopeful.
My stomach flips, the excitement of seeing Ben tomorrow encompassing everything else. “That sounds great, Marcus. Chinese from the place next to campus?” I ask.
He nods. “Surprise me,” he replies, pulling his wallet from his back pocket. He pulls out a few crisp bills, all neatly organized by denomination, and slides them into my hand. “Something with chicken, maybe?” His last test is tomorrow, and I finished mine today. It makes sense he’d send me for food. Marcus returns to his contemporary desk by the floor-to-ceiling window of his condo and bends his head down to examine his textbook and notecards.
I grab my oversized bag and sling it over my shoulder and lock his door with the key I keep on my key ring. We’re close to campus, so I rarely use my car. It stays in Marcus’s parking garage. His apartment is beautiful compared to the block cell dormitory I share with a nympho named Nancy Cartgrove. She squeals like a pig and peeps like a baby chick during intercourse, and the noise-canceling headphones Marcus gifted me for my birthday aren’t strong enough to block out her sex life. Mostly I stay at Marcus’s apartment now. When his parents come to visit, I have to hide my toiletries and empty my drawer.
Marcus says they’re liberal-minded, accepting folks, but I’d never want them to think I was that kind of girl. I haven’t even told Ben about the relationship yet. At first it was mostly because I wasn’t sure if it was going to last, and now it’s because so much time has passed, the awkwardness has reached a fever pitch.
My phone chimes from inside my cavernous bag. I dig my cell out as I walk toward the restaurant, pausing every city block to wait for the crossing signals.
I’ll be able to pick you up tomorrow!
The text from Ben reads. Butterflies invade my stomach again, and I actually skip a little. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to get out of work early enough. The exclamation point tells me he’s just as excited. He never uses them.
Cars honk, and the cross light is still red. I tap back a quick message.
I’m so excited!
A card shop with a bright pink sign outside flashes at me as if to signal divine intervention. Stopping, I peer in to check out the display of pop-up birthday cards. One immediately catches my eye, and I run inside to buy it. I already sent him one on his actual birthday, but I don’t want to show up empty-handed.
I pick up the Chinese food, a few various dishes I know Marcus will like, and head back. He studies for another twenty minutes after I return, and we end up having to reheat our dinner in the microwave. The movie isn’t as funny as it was slated to be. It’s one of those movies that shows all the funny parts in the previews, and memories distract me from the screen in front of me.
It’s a good thing the movie is a comedy, because in no time at all I’m smiling like a lunatic as I remember birthdays from my past. When I turned fourteen and the girls at school made fun of my flat chest and pretty much everything else about me, Ben raided the girls’ locker room to put frosting inside their shoes. It was during the wedge clog phase. Ben was never very stealthy, and I remember being worried he’d be caught and would get in trouble.
That was a birthday he single-handedly turned around, by himself. My cell phone vibrates with a text in front of Marcus on the sleek coffee table.
Leaning over, I scoop it up quicker than I should have. The message reads,
Don’t be shocked. I even washed the sheets on my bed.
It’s from Ben, and my smile fades into a blush. My pale skin proves an awful, telling quality. There’s never any question if I am embarrassed.
“It’s Heidi,” I say, biting my tongue. The lie came too easily.
Marcus is laughing at the movie and shrugs. I’m unsure why I even told him who it was to begin with. Reporting to a man isn’t something I ever want to do.
“I have to use the restroom,” I say, because I obviously tell him way too much anyway.
Marcus nods but doesn’t take his eyes off the TV, the blue light casting his face in shadows.
Shutting the door behind me, I sigh. That’s totally inappropriate. I send back,
I’ll pack extra sheets for the sofa
My thumbs hover over the buttons to type more, but I hold back.
If you don’t think you can keep your hands off me, then do what you must
Ben replies.
Shaking my head, I laugh. The knock on the door makes me jump.
“What are you laughing at, Harper?” Marcus asks, voice aimed at the doorjamb.
My heart leaps into my throat. “Nothing. I’ll be out in a second.” Slipping the phone into my back pocket, I turn on the sink and wash my hands. Marcus is waiting when I sling the door open, a small smile plastered on my face.
He unzips his jeans and lifts the toilet seat.
