Breathless, he asked, “Do you want me to?”
My bottom lip sank between my teeth. “No, it’s just… we never really talked about what happened.” My mind flashed back to earlier. “And what you said today…”
“That’s because I don’t have the words.” His thumb skimmed mine, awkward, almost unsure. “I’m not used to this—wanting to be around someone, not just because it’s my job, but because I actually… want to. And I don’t know what the hell to do with that.”
I let out a shaky laugh that didn’t feel funny. “Guess I’m the opposite. I’ve spent so long convincing people I don’t care, that I’m cold, sharp, a bitch… that sometimes I forget I don’t have to be. But you…” My eyes flicked to his, softer. “You never buy it. You look past it, like you see someone else completely.”
His jaw worked like he wanted to speak but couldn’t. Finally, his voice came low, rough. “Maybe that’s because I do.” He let out a sigh. “I knew who you were from the second I met you.”
I shrugged. “And she is?”
“A girl who has had to fight for everything in her life, only for the world to remind her that she can fight all she wants and it won’t make a difference. Making her believe that she’s powerless.” His nose brushed mine. “But the world is a fucking liar.”
A sob that had been trapped in my throat surged free, and a harmless smile spread across my mouth.
“Am I right?”
He was spot on. Marcus had seen my life, all of it, for what it really was. He was the only one who knew about my past, about what being in London meant to me. He knew all the little details the others didn’t.
Of course he saw me.
Silence stretched—not empty, but weighted, like the air itself had decided to hold its breath.
I should’ve looked away, cracked a joke, or found an exit. But I didn’t. Neither did he. His eyes stayed locked on mine, steady, certain, like he’d already decided what I hadn’t dared admit: we’d stepped over something we couldn’t step back from.
Before I could react, before the billions of questions on my tongue could fire out, before I could even think about kissing him again, someone pounded on the door.
“Cora, are you nearly ready?” Goldie called. “Rory is getting hangry, and I’m seriously concerned for Finn’s safety.”
Marcus’ forehead sank into the crown of my head. I sighed. “I’ll be down in five!”
“Okay!” She called back. “We’ll be in the lobby.”
Her footsteps faded, leaving Marcus and me to sit in the fizzled aftermath of the moment.
I could have stayed there for hours, and I’m pretty sure he would have let me.
Before long, he stood, reaching out his hand to pull me up. I went to the bathroom to quickly fix my makeup, retouch a few curls, and it was like I’d never had a mental breakdown.
Thank you, Givenchy.
Marcus walked ahead, opening the door, but as I slipped past, his hand brushed my arm, stopping me. I looked up.
“Did I mention you clean up alright?”
My brows shot up. “Alright?”
His mouth twitched, almost a smile. “You know you look beautiful.”
My shoulders lifted. "Still nice hearing someone say it."
"Then I'll start saying it rather than just thinking it from now on."
Oh, he wasgood. Too good.
I shook my head, words suddenly a long-lost memory.
I felt beautiful all the time—even in sweat, glasses, and with Chocolate Digestive crumbs down my oversized shirt. But hearing it from him was like I’d never really believed it until now. Like he meant it. Like he saw me for more than the image the world picked apart.
