let it go

"Marshall!"

He turned away from the guffawing popular students, head swiveling to the source of the voice. His gaze landed on a short brunette, rushing towards him in the hallway.

Eyes widened, as an alarm set off in his head. He casted a quick glance over to the group, checking if they had noticed the girl, but they seemed absorbed in discussing the party the other night. He was about to murmur an excuse, and step back from the group - but she was already there, hopping to a stop beside him.

"Hey!" she greeted, grinning.

"Hey," he said, lips perking sheepishly up. His eyes casted a sideway glance at the group, immediately noting - to his dismay - a few heads turning their way, and eyebrows cocking. Before questions were fired, he raised a hand, muttered an excuse me, and finally walked away, a hand on Emma's arm.

Dragging her with him, he directed her towards the lockers, away from passing ears. He cleared his throat, and ignoring the flash of puzzlement on her face, asked, "What's up?" He let go of her arm, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"Um - I was wondering if you're available to hang out tonight, at my place?" she said. Lips broadened to a grin, and Marshall could tell her mood was elevating. "Disney marathon? I got this new CD-"

The edges of his lips perked up. Her eyes glittered, a shine of passion on them as if polished; skin pushed back, mouth simultaneously talking and smiling; brown locks bouncing at the tiny, jovial shifts of her form, unable to still at the excitement tingling under her skin. Beautiful, he thought.

"So?" she said, eyes wide and brows up. "Are you available later, seven PM?"

He pushed a tiny breath out of his nose, like a snort, and cocked a brow. "Do I ever have a choice?"

Her thin lips stretched to a stunning smile. And it was all he could to restrain himself from kissing them.

• • •

"Marshall! You going to the party later?" one of the guys asked him.

His teeth dug into his burger, yanking the bitten piece out with them. Marshall glanced to one of the football players who were part of the group, and frowned. "What party?" he said in-between chewing.

"Tonight, at my place," the same guy - a burly redhead - responded. (What was his name? Marshall wondered.) "You are coming, right? Ferris is going. Gonna bring along his girl."

"You should bring along your girl too, Marsh."

His gaze shifted to the girl across him - one of the cheerleaders. Black tresses in a tight ponytail, sinewy and tall. (What's her name again?) He frowned. "What girl?"

"You know," she said. Her lips curled, sly and teasing. "That Disney freak."

Something sparked in his chest, swelling and igniting his veins. His nose twitched, brows knitting. He heaved a sigh out of his nose, slow and quiet, and let himself chew for a minute, until he swallowed. "She isn't a freak," he said, low and strained.

The girl arched a brow. "She is the very definition of a freak."

"Her thing with Disney is waaay over the top," another joined in, a girl with golden brown curls in pigtails. "And she's so weird."

"It's practically an obsession," commented one more, tone flat and bored. A honey blonde, a handful of her locks clipped back. "And I heard she has stalking tendencies."

Channeling all the energy to his mouth, his teeth sunk into the soft bread, the hard celery, the juicy tomato and the salty burger patty; and fully separated it from the burger, taking it into his mouth for his teeth to further lacerate. His eyes - hardened and dark - focused on the cheerleader with the clever smile, and pushed away the temptation to lacerate her head instead.