Forbidden Fruits

Chapter 13: Marcus

While I sat outside of Faith's classroom waiting for her class to finish, I was running back through every word I had said to her, overthinking each one. To be honest, I wasn't used to this kind of thing. I don't flirt with girls, I don't date. Maybe a hookup here or there to fulfill some more baseline urges, but those were few and far between. Most girls wanted to go back to my apartment, but none of them were deserving enough to be in the same space my sister occupied half of the time. It felt wrong to bring them in there.

I felt so out of place trying to charm Faith, but it seemed like it was working. I was losing my cool over this girl. The way her cheeks flushed bright red when I teased her, how her eyes widened and I was close enough to count each faint freckle on her face, I was enthralled with it all. Fuck, it didn't help that now my jacket smelt like her. I wasn't sure if it was just from the short period she was wearing it, or because it was sitting in her space, next to her, all weekend, but either way that soft scent of vanilla and blossoms wrapped around me now.

I was antsy, eyes trained on her classroom door, waiting for her to walk out. I wanted to see her again, talk to her again and hear that voice, almost as sweet as the perfume she wore, laughing and testing a flirty line when her confidence built up enough. I didn't want to stop and think about all the reasons we don't fit together.

There's the obvious optics of it all; a shy church girl who dresses like it's Sunday every day doesn't belong next to an asshole of a fighter who turned to tattoos so that if he was purposefully hurting himself, at least it would result in something easier to look at than the alternatives. She was a bright beacon of heavenly light and I was... well the opposite. Opposite to her in a way that shouldn't attract.

Faith's whole life revolved around Christ if the necklace and the purity ring were any indication. I can barely look at a church without feeling sick. She deserves someone who's able to share her faith, not someone who goes numb at even the mention of a Bible verse.

Just the thought of it all made the scars on my back ache with phantom pains. How many years has it been? Too many. And yet that pain persists.

The sound of a door opening and people's voices made my head shoot up. In an instant I was snapped out of my spiral. Underclassmen spilled out of the lecture hall, some in groups chattering away, some solo and keeping their head down. I got a few odd looks here and there but I didn't pay them any mind, too busy scanning the crowd for a particular blonde head of hair.

Finally, she walked through the doors and I immediately stood up, ready to greet her. When she locked eyes with me, her gaze was filled with what I could only describe as irritation. She made a beeline for me, hiking her bag further up on shoulder. "How'd it go?"

She sighed, shaking her head. "It was fine. Probably not my best work but I can't give 100% on a project that should, theoretically, only require 50% from each person working on it. We should go, though."

"I'm sure you did great, angel. Lead the way," I tried to offer an endearing look, but I wasn't quite sure if it was hitting the mark.

We started walking and got no more than ten steps down the hallway before getting stopped by a voice. "Faith, wait, please!"

I was ready to keep walking but Faith stopped with a loud huff, turning on her heel to face the shitty little country club boy jogging towards us from the open classroom door. Naturally, I stopped and turned with her.

"I appreciate your apology, Noah, but I'm really not interested in talking," Faith said, far nicer than I expected. I can't help but hear her slight slip of an accent, though. I doubt most would notice it, but it was hard to miss when you hung on her every word, begging for more to come.