Elliott Miller is your average 23 year-old, only with a lost father and a resentful mother. When he goes back to his hometown to make amends, he inadvertently gets dragged into the activities of an illicit criminal group.
Enter Marcel Nixon, 25, wh...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I was heaving, my lungs burning in agony as I jogged down the street with Marcel running beside. He showed no sign of fatigue even after briskly jogging for three miles straight. I considered myself somewhat athletic, with some lean muscle that I required as part of my modelling pursuits, but this much running was more than I could handle.
My body, unable to push any further led me to stumble onto a nearby lawn, where I promptly collapsed, relishing the wave of relaxation that took over my every muscle.
Hearing a faint chuckle, I opened one eyelid and found Marcel slouched onto the grass next to me, sipping some water in all his glistening glory. Somehow, his sweaty condition made him ten times more attractive in my eyes. He ran a hand through his limp hair and I watched as his biceps flexed and his muscle shirt slid up slightly. It took more constraint than I'd like to admit to stop myself from springing onto him right then and there.
It wasn't Marcel's idea to tag along with me. In fact, he said he was fine with monitoring me at a distance from his car. Rather, it was I, who, caught up in a fleeting moment of unabashed courage, insisted that he accompany me since I would feel 'safer' that way. In hindsight, it seems like a really lame excuse to spend time with him, but thankfully, he agreed.
After I'd collected and hoisted myself up, I blushed, thoroughly embarrassed at my panting, red-faced state.
"I think it's probably best if we both turned around now."
"Yeah sure," I breathed out, trying to play it cool.
I waited for Marcel to strap his utility belt back on and we began walking back to the house, me being too tired to go any faster than a slow creep.
As we approached a by-lane, my ears began filling with multiple consecutive zipping sounds, and before I could process what it was, I was being shoved into a dark alley. Marcel's torso pressed against mine with an arm protectively positioned next to my face, his eyebrows knitted into an alert expression. Our proximity made my breath hitch as I tried not to move, lest I do something stupid and get us both killed.
In a flash, two men zipped past our alley, holding tranquilizer guns. A mere glance in their direction frightened me. They were burly men dressed in black, evidently running after someone (whose names I fervently hoped didn't rhyme with "Marriott' or 'Parcel,' but knew deep inside that they probably did). Of all the emotions I'd ever felt, this was the closest to pure and raw fear. I say closest since a delusional little part of me was jumping for joy at being so close to Adonis himself.
There probably wouldn't be another chance like this and I tried to savor the feeling, simultaneously attempting to tuck away my fear. It worked. A little too well, given the circumstance, but still worked.
Marcel pressed his body closer to mine and waited for about a minute before relaxing. Through the corner of my eye, I could see him tuck something into his belt. I gasped in surprise, at which he reflexively covered my mouth with his free palm.
Finally, we made eye contact. I could faintly make out a light pink hue that dusted his perfect features. I couldn't be sure if it was due to our recent exertions or whether he was embarrassed, but the awkward look on his face made me believe it was the latter.
Despite the awkwardness though, he didn't pull away. I inched forward slowly and as if on cue, he bowed his head so that our faces were mere millimeters apart. His palm slowly moved from my lips towards my cheek. Ever so slowly, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
I could feel his thundering heartbeat furiously hammer in sync with mine. The distance between our lips was practically nothing, but at the same time, it was everything.
His eyelids fluttered shut, and mine followed suit, desperately hoping that he felt the same passion as I did in that moment. I craved the feeling of his soft-looking lips on mine; to steal him away for just a moment. More than anything, I longed to experience those cliché fireworks that would allegedly make my world stop. Deep inside of me, I had a strong feeling that Marcel was going to light those fireworks. He was the one I'd been pining for, like someone I never knew I needed to brighten up my life.
I was probably reading too much into his expressions, or simply got caught up in the heat of the moment, as a muted beep caused me to jump and slam my back against the wall behind me. My eyes shot open and I winced, rudely awakened from my reverie. The reality of our closeness seemed to set in and he sheepishly withdrew, fidgeting with his watch to turn the beeping off.
"That was my...uh... alarm. I... uh... we need to get back," he stuttered, something I noticed was foreign to his usual composed character.
I could do nothing but nod, feeling deflated. We were so close, yet so far; a feeling of déjà vu.
I inwardly cursed the watch for interrupting our little moment. Why did the universe choose to bring my hopes up and then crush them, just like that? Did I not deserve some happiness? Was I simply that unworthy of being loved?
These thoughts plagued my mind as we resumed our walk back home, engulfed in uncomfortable silence.
