And, once again, I smiled. Like a moonstruck lunatic.
I did as the note said and devoured my breakfast, curled up on the armchair by the window and watched the city wake up too. My mind wandered to where the commuters were going,what important things they all had lined up today, purely to distract me from the one important thing I had to do today, that I still wasn’t sure whether I wanted to do.
Pulling out my phone, I tapped until I was on the map route, looking at just how short the distance between Mum and me was for once. I knew in my gut that I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t see her. Regardless of whether she remembered me, I knew I had to be there.
I rehearsed what I was going to say as I headed into the wardrobe to get changed. There wasn’t much room but I still wasn’t sure if someone was watching me, so I deemed it the safest choice. My outfit was simple: just some blue jeans, a white tee, and a marl grey cardigan buttoned only once at the top, and just as I switched off my flat iron, my door knocked again.
And I think the idea that I was falling for Marcus only burned brighter once I saw him, standing in my doorway, looking like pure sunshine wrapped in a shiny black ribbon. His smile, like always, was everything. Subtle and wide, and those dimples had powers, I was sure of it.
My neck ached from staring at him, but I couldn’t have cared less.
“Hi.” I chirped.
“Morning.” He replied, his smile thinning in a way that made me question if he was also weirdly nervous right now.
I think I was only nervous because the second I looked into those eyes, I saw the movie that was last night, playing in a loop in my head and making me dizzy and giddy at the same time.
“Thank you… for breakfast. And… for last night.” I stuttered.
His smile tugged at one side, the faintest hint of mischief in his eyes. “It was nothing.” His eyes widened as he caught himself. “The breakfast, not last night… I mean, last night was… great, really great. I swear.”
Oh my God… Hewasnervous.
My eyes flicked to his hands, shoved deep within his pockets, twitching like he was searching for something.
I rocked forward on my tiptoes. “Why are you nervous?” I asked, like my chest also wasn’t fluttering the longer he stood over me.
He shrugged, accepting defeat. “Why do you think? You’ve bewitched me, Cora Holland.” His eyes rolled as he sighed. “I didn’t stand a fucking chance though, let’s be honest.”
My head dropped, my smile stretching. “No, you didn’t.”
He blew a quick laugh through his nose before he stepped forward, his hand cradling my head as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to my forehead before looking back at me. “You ready?”
“No,” I pulled the fabric of my cardigan over my hands, then shrugged. “But I need to do this; if I don’t and we leave, I won’t stop thinking about it.”
“You’ll do great. And I’ll be right outside.” He laced his hand through mine. “Okay?”
I didn’t want to nod; in fact, all I wanted to do was pull him inside, just exist in pyjamas all day and finally get around to watching The Hunger Games.
But I did. I nodded, letting him take me out of the room, not stopping until we were in the car and on the way to see my mum.
Oakridge Hills was about an hour outside of London, meaning I had enough time and enough fields to count to take my mind off of what I was doing.
As we drove out of the city, Marcus gave me control of the sound system, which, more than the way he kissed me last night, proved how much he really must have liked me. He was a stifler for a silent car ride.
Weirdo. What was a car ride without music?
Anyway, the entire ride I played easy 00s Britpop. You know, the classics. McFly. Busted. My queen, Lily Allen. The occasional Olly Murs, which I think Marcus enjoyed more than he’d ever admit out loud. But regardless, it made the pressure in my chest lessen whenever I let the music take over.
By the end of Lily’sIt’s Not Me, It’s Youalbum, we were pulling up the gates of Oakridge.
I felt my heart lodge in my throat the closer we drove to the entrance, the beats doubling when Marcus parked the car.
“I can’t do this.” My voice broke the silence, my hands flailing as I turned to face him. “She won’t know me, and I remember how I felt the first time I realised she’d forgottenme.” My eyes pleaded. “Marcus, I don’t know if I can go through it all again.”
His hand covered mine, calming me right back down. “Just breathe, okay? If you don’t want to do it I’ll drive us back. Just say the word and we’ll go.” His eyes held me tighter, dipping until they were level. “But you’ve done harder things, right? Sure, she might not know it’s you visiting, but at least she’ll know someone is, and hopefully that will make her happy.” He squeezed my palm, my eyes finding his. “Wasn’t that what today was about?”
He was right. I was here for Mum, not me. It was to remind her that people still thought about her, regardless of whether she knew who exactly was keeping the memory of her alive.
