Sin-bin

Chapter 10 - Dallas

When Marcial doesn't pick up my phone call, I decide to call it quits. I push myself off the wall outside his apartment door and begin walking back to the elevator. 

It's nearly twenty minutes after we agreed to meet. I spent the first five minutes knocking and waiting, but nothing happened. Then I texted him twice. No response. I called him two times, but there was still no response. Waiting twenty minutes feels like the appropriate amount of time to wait before giving up. 

I probably should have texted him earlier today to make sure he was still cool to meet tonight. We did agree on Thursday, when I had to cancel, that we'd meet on Tuesday at nine since I had a longer shift today. But I guess maybe he forgot, or something came up. Marcial doesn't seem like the time to purposefully blow someone off. 

It is a bit disappointing. I felt so bad about having to cancel Thursday, but I was not ready for that exam whatsoever. He was so nice and accepting of it, wishing me luck on my exam. Today, I was going to have us paint flowers because that's a classic. I was hoping, deep down inside where he can't know, that he would warm up to me more and be playful like he kind of did last week. I want to find out what makes him smile and laugh, one painting lesson at a time. 

The elevator button lights up when I press it, but the elevator must be on a different floor because I have to stand there. I'm still wearing my work clothes since Marcial offered me some clothes to paint in, but my feet still hurt. I'm a bit sticky, too, from a Coke I totally spilled over myself early into my shift. I'm socially exhausted after a rougher shift than usual, but Marcial was going to be my trek back into talking to people. At least I can go home and take a shower now, therefore not having to worry how I come across to Marcial. 

The elevator dings like it does right before the doors are about to open. Not even considering the fact that someone could be in it, I instantly take a step forward when the doors start to peel open. However, that makes me nearly run into someone very familiar. 

"Oh!" Marcial states when I nearly mow him over. 

"Oh, oh, sorry!" I take a step back out of the elevator, and Marcial quickly follows when the doors ding again, threatening to close him in. 

Then we're standing in the hallway. Marcial is in a black puffer jacket with a Yetis cap pulled down over his ears. I can see his curls poke out around the edges. There are usually bags under his eyes, but today, they seem darker. He looks tired. 

"Oh shit!" Marcial places a hand on his forehead, "We're supposed to meet tonight, huh? Shit, I'm so sorry, I totally forgot—"

"It's alright, no worries!" I try to smile to make it known that it's all okay, but Marcial doesn't seem to notice.

"Shit. I forgot. I was..." He hesitates and then doesn't finish his sentence. Instead, he shakes his head and pulls his keys out of his coat pocket, "Nevermind. Come in, we can still do this if you're okay with that?"

I smile and readjust my bag on my shoulder, "We don't have to tonight if you don't want to—"

"No! We can."

"Okay, lead the way."

Marcial's footsteps are loud as we sneak through the maze of hallways to his door. He struggles for a moment with finding the right key before he pushes the door open and flips a light switch to illuminate the front entrance. 

"You can hang up your coat here," He points to the hook right next to where he places his own coat. I try not to get distracted by his messy hat hair when he tosses the beanie in a basket on a small table against the wall. 

We pry off our shoes before I follow Marcial through his dark apartment, where he turns on lights and whatnot. Instead of leading us to the living room like usual, I find us in the kitchen. It's kind of bare, with a white and silver theme. He doesn't have anything on his counter except for an air fryer and a little black toaster. The fridge has no magnets, and the sink is bare of dirty dishes. It's like no one uses it or something.