When he disappeared into a side street, he didn’t say a word as he held my gaze. Didn’t need to say a word thats to the tug of his lips. And I hated that in that moment I wanted him to think of me as anything other than his client.
But I also didn’t really give a shit if he did, because it turns out letting myself be a little bit hopeless for him was one of the best things that’s happened to me in a long, long time.
I scrolled through my phone whilst I waited for him, updating my socials with a carousel of our London trip so far and getting that sinking feeling in my stomach when I watchedit get thousands of likes within seconds. I spent another few minutes thinking about how I could leave that part of my life behind if I made it with my art. And I knew I could have easily just promoted it online and made money that way, but it didn’t feel right. I wanted whatever life my art could provide to be born from something authentic and true. And with my invite to the Nouvelle Gala, I think whatever real journey I’d wished for was finally beginning.
After another few minutes scrolling and finding out from our group chat if everyone was still alive after last night. (They were.) (Barely.) I tucked my phone away, my mind wandering back to Marcus. I hadn’t found the time to ask about his plans to take down whoever was trying to ruin his company, but the second he was back I would. If he came back soon.
This was taking a while.
As my mind wandered, echoes came from the alley Marcus had vanished down—what sounded like glass being shattered, loud enough to make my ears prick up, even through the traffic behind me. I pushed off from the car, my arms wrapped around my waist to help the stabbing feeling in my gut that something wasn’t right. As I reached the end of the alley I peered around the corner, finding Marcus instantly. His broad back was turned, and his phone was still at his ear.
I crept further into the alley as I watched him pace. I felt the tension in his shoulders even from this far away. His voice grew louder the closer I got, before taking cover behind a pile of cardboard boxes, my blood thumping in my ears when I heard his voice.
“You’re insane if you think something is happening. Clearly whoever you’re using to track me isn’t very fucking good at their job.”
Although I wanted to laugh, I kept quiet.
Silence took over before he blew a laugh through his nose. “Seeing as though you seem to know everything about my life, why don’t you tell me exactly what I feel for her? Go on, you waste of space. Tell me!”
The Marcus I could see wasn’t the Marcus I knew. I’d never imagined him angry. Quiet and broody and quintessentially unbothered? Sure. But angry? The thought terrified me if I was being honest.
Another cynical laugh bellowed out of him. “And that’s where you’re wrong. I don’t give two fucks about that girl. She’s a client, not a fucking project.”
And then my stomach hollowed.
“I took her because I felt bad for her. And that little fuck you sent to destroy my company did a really good job at destroying her too. Which is why I know she’s too broken to ever let someone love her. And in case you want to know, broken isn’t my type.”
He may as well have said my name, and lucky for me, I didn’t have to hold onto that tiny, pathetic string of hope that he was talking about someone else for much longer.
“Come after her if you want, but make no mistake that if anything happens to Miss Holland, I’m still sleeping tonight.”
I’m surprised I still had strength in my legs to stand when I heard him finally say my name, but I did. I stood right in the middle of the alley, waiting for him to turn.
I couldn’t tell whether it had started raining or if I was crying but, when the corners of my eyes began to sting, I soon solved the mystery.
My hands fell by my side, my chest heaving as I stood directly behind him, so close I could smell that same scent of amber that had brushed over me when his hands were in mine.
“Hear me when I say she’s as good as yours. Taking her means you’ll save me the trouble of trying to babysit some stuck-up, out-of-touch crybaby who is scared of her own shadow.”
I must have sobbed, let something slip, but I had no idea what. My ears were ringing so bad that it was like the world had stopped moving to hear what I was hearing.
But whatever I’d done had Marcus spinning on his heels, his eyes falling and finding me instantly.
Looking at his eyes was the same as watching an ice cube melt.
But I couldn’t stay under him. I couldn’t breathe around him. I couldn’t waste one more second pretending that we could ever be something, because as he’d just said, broken wasn’t his type.
I gave him one last look through my sodden eyes and a pouted lip before taking off back down and out of the alley. My legs were close to buckling, but I ran, far, far away, notbothering to turn around to wonder whether he was chasing me.
I didn’t want him to.
I didn’t want to see his face ever again.
I ran towards Westminster, right along the Thames, before dipping into College Garden. I only stopped once I reached the fountain that sat in the centre, the soft trickle of water calming my mind as my raging heart settled.
My eyes counted the lilac flowers that sat around its base, until that somehow reminded me of him and I turned away, falling to my knees and clutching the curved stone like I’d fall if I didn’t.
And then, as I caught my reflection in the water, I wondered at what point I started to ask whether my entire life was cursed. Good things were few and far between for me, and maybe letting go of them was the only way I was going to be okay.
