Marcus: Back In Your Reach, I can Wander

“I don’t think I should…”

“It’s just vodka, pretty boy.” He was back to that again. “It won’t hurt you. And I’ll be here the whole time, just in case you need to, you know… puke or something.”

It should have been funny, but there was no humour in his eyes. 

“Don’t look at me that way,” he muttered, sprawling on the floor in front of the window. 

“What way?” I whispered, standing behind him, our reflections softly bouncing off the glass. He glanced at me for a short second, then bent over the bottle, twisting the cap. 

“Pity,” he replied after another second. “The Arthurs detest when people feel pity for them. It makes us look weak.”

“Who told you that, Jordan?”

In that moment, he seemed to realize he’d just said something he shouldn’t have. “Sit, Marcus. I won’t bite you. Or at least, I’ll try not to.”

The last bit was a joke, too. I knew it was. So, why did I feel warmth pool at the pit of my stomach as my feet pushed forward, settling next to him? I still had to pee, desperately now. But I couldn’t bring myself to say it. Not now that I knew Jordan needed me. 

He pushed a glass in my direction and tipped his before downing the liquid in one swift go. Barely grimacing, Jordan went for another glass. I still hadn’t touched mine. 

“There’s no fun in drinking alone, you know?”

“Fine,” I muttered, joining him. After a few minutes of silence, I moved on my butt. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Silence. 

“Your sister…you must have loved her.”

“Do you always blush each time someone is in your face?” Jordan said instead, taking me by surprise.

“What? I don’t blush.”

His face broke into a grin as he turned to look at me. “You have red patches on your cheeks.”

I touched my face at once, knowing he was right. I was burning. “It has nothing to do with you,” I muttered under my breath. 

“I never said it did.” Amusement was lodged in Jordan’s tone. “It’s …. Refreshing. Seeing someone who still has the liberty to show what they feel.”

I heard the words he didn’t say. Unlike his parents. But he didn’t want to talk about it just yet, so I wouldn’t push. 

“Why are you with Heather?” I found myself asking. “She’s…vain and loud and….” I gulped. “Pretty.”

“You are pretty, too,” Jordan muttered, laughing. “That’s not a bad thing.”

God! The ground needed to open up and swallow me before I made myself look like a clown any further. Of course, Jordan meant it in the most friendly way possible. It was nothing. Nothing at all. 

“Heather and I have been friends since childhood,” he continued, leaning back on his palms. “I’m used to her.”

“People don’t date each other just because they are used to themselves. It should be for love, for deep devotion…that feeling that trumps every other, when you are hopelessly and entirely obsessed with that person.”

The grin on his face hadn’t faded. “I’m sure it works that way in the classical novels you read. But this is real life, pretty boy.” I didn’t ask how he knew what I was majoring in. I was scared of what the answer might be.

“In real life, love doesn’t exist. Elizabeth and Darcy aren’t real.”

We spent more than an hour just sitting there, staring at the downpour, the rims of the glasses pressed against our lips. I didn’t move until I felt my bladder pressing into me. When I looked by my side, I saw that Jordan was sprawled on the floor, his eyes closed and his breathing slower. He must have fallen asleep.

Getting off the floor, I found my way to the bathroom to do my business. Done, I tried to flush, but the flusher wouldn’t work. I looked around the tiled surface, searching for an alternative. 

But I found none.

“That’s not how it works.”

I jumped when I heard his voice. He was leaning against the doorframe, one hand tucked in his pocket. “You were not there when I woke up.”

“I just needed to…”

He motioned to me with a finger, and I swore deep in my mind that it had to be the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. My legs moved in his direction without warning, and my brain seemed to have stopped working. 

I stood in front of him now, the liquor pooling in my system. He smelled of leather and oud, and I couldn’t resist the urge to close my eyes. He still hadn’t moved. I could feel the warmth of his breath on my face, coming out erratically. 

His hand grazed the small of my waist gently, and when I opened my eyes, I found him watching. 

“I’m going to flush that.” His lips barely moved. I was looking. Nodding, I tried to move away, but Jordan wouldn’t budge. At least, not for the first three seconds. His hands dropped to his side, and I walked out of the bathroom, releasing the breath I had no idea I was holding.

I didn’t see what he did, but I heard the water go down the toilet. He was in front of me within the blink of an eye. 

“I should take you home,” he murmured, angling his head. “But I don’t think I can drive right now. Maybe I shouldn’t have drunk that much.”

“I can wait,” I found myself saying. “You can sleep it off and …”

“Yeah,” Jordan muttered, nodding. He took another step closer and narrowed his eyes. He smiled at me and ruffled my hair. “I know you love painting. My sister did too. You can find her supplies in one of the rooms down the hall.”

I nodded. 

Jordan’s eyes roamed my features, his head dipping. My breath escalated, and ran all over the place like a clown. I couldn’t hear a thing, just the rush of my blood against my ears. I thought he was going to kiss me. 

But Jordan pinched my chin instead. “I’ll see you soon, pretty boy.”

That wink had to be illegal.