“You can’t even argue with me that you don’t.”
“Arguing with you is pointless. Or better yet…” my hand goes to my hip, “… maybe I should. Maybe that will make you run away from me again for longer this time.”
“I didn’t run.”
“Really? Because not seeing or hearing from you for two months sounds a lot like running to me.”
“You told me to wait for your call.”
Damn him for bringing that up.
He’s right, I did.
But I expected him to call.
After all, I was proving a point, and I was right.
“Again, what do you want?”
“Again, I told you. You.”
“And I told you… you can’t have me.”
“Why is that?” Marcus makes a move to step closer to me, but I step back.
A car comes into my line of sight, and I groan when I see who it is.
My mother’s eyes pin me with a stare as she gets out, and then they flick to Marcus, who’s standing awfully close to me.
“Hello. Who is this, Rochelle?” she asks, offering her hand to him.
He takes it, shakes it, and steps away.
Mother’s eyes go from me to him. “Is this your boyfriend?”
“No.”
“Yes,” he says at the same time.
My mother’s eyes bounce from me to him. “Why don’t you come out with us? To celebrate Rochelle’s birthday. Is that why you’re here?”
Marcus turns to me at my mother’s words. “It’s your birthday?”
“Tomorrow. So, there’s still time to buy her a present. She likes Gucci.” My mother waves off and heads toward the house where I know my sister is inside, and more than likely watching all this while laughing her head off.
“I don’t like Gucci.”
“You don’t?” he asks.
“Well, I do. But it’s expensive, and I have better things to spend my money on,” I say honestly. “Oh, and you’re not invited. I rescind the invitation. Please leave.” I turn to walk back up to the house, but I hear his footsteps behind following me.
“Your mother invited me. It would be awfully rude not to accept her invitation.”
“It wouldn’t. Because you aren’t my boyfriend. Now… leave,” I say, turning back around just as I see my sister standing at the door.
“Marcus, was it?”
I groan. He must nod, because she continues, “Good, we were just getting ready to leave. Rochelle can go with you, if that works?”
“I’m going with you,” I say to her.
“Oh no, don’t have the room. Sorry.”
I reach the door, grab my heels, and wonder if I can stab her in the eye with my stiletto.
“Looks like you will be with me, pretty girl.”
My mother and sister walk out, handing me my bag and shutting my front door. They smile as they walk past and get into their cars, driving off and leaving me with him standing behind me. I haven’t been able to look back at him yet.
“I’ll walk.”
“No, you won’t. Now, get in my truck and tell me where to go.”
I sit on my step like a petulant child and look up at him. Marcus steps forward and reaches out to me. I go to pull away, but he’s much bigger and faster than me, and he picks me up as if I am light as a feather. He turns, walking to his truck which is out the front, clicks a lock, and goes to the passenger door.
“Happy birthday, pretty girl.”
“It’s not my birthday,” I say. My eyes are glued to his lips as he puts me in the truck.
“But it will be.” Then he shuts the door, walks around to his side, and slides in.
I tell him where to go, and the whole drive my leg bounces in the seat. Nervousness is racking through my body.
“This is weird. Whatever deal we had is over. So, why are you here?”
“I’m willing to try a new deal with you.”
“No, it won’t be a deal. People who enter into new friendships or relationships don’t count it as a deal, Reap,” I say, using his name that everyone else seems to call him.
He removes his sunglasses and looks to me.
“I’m not Reap to you.”
“Why? Is that side of you scary and too much for me?”
“Yes. Way too much for you. We’ve already established that.”
“I’m not some innocent girl,” I say.
“Yes, you are. And I like that about you.” He says the first nice thing to me, ever. He likes me. This man, who never gives me much, tells me he likes me.
I shouldn’t be happy about that, I should be upset and telling him to go away. Yet, here I sit, staring at him as we pull up to the restaurant to have dinner with my family.
“You can still run,” I say to him.
“Tried that already, look where it got me.” Marcus gets out and walks around to my side.
My family is already inside. I can see them through the window as they wait for me to come in. Marcus clasps my hand in his as we walk in, and I try to pull it away but he doesn’t let me go. My father’s eyes zoom in, but my mother leans in, whispering something to him, then smiles up at us.