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.
"Is this wrong?"
Marcel looked up from his phone and towards the door, where I stood. He shot me a puzzled look and got up, walking towards me.
"What's bothering you?"
He gently took my hand and pulled me into a hug. I melted into his strong arms, his refreshing presence overwhelming my senses.
"I don't know, I feel so selfish right now. I mean, we don't even know each other that well apart from the case files and I wonder if I'm overstepping boundaries. Besides, I'm pretty sure that a relationship or whatever we have is not too high up on your list of priorities."
He let go of me and turned around, opening a drawer on his bedside cabinet and retrieving his car keys.
"Let's fix that," he said and walked out the door.
The week after our first kiss passed by in a magical blur. It was just the two of us, wrapped in shared silences and easy laughter. We spent most of our time lounging around, brushing hands or exchanging lazy kisses every now and then. It was calm, warm, and strangely healing.
I found myself thinking about all the moments in the past when I could have felt this way, but didn't. There was something almost bittersweet about it. Like for the first time, I could just be, without analyzing every moment. It was beautiful. And, in a strange way, a little unfair that I couldn't have felt this way sooner.
As I looked out the window, I watched the city zip past. Marcel had taken a different route, veering away from the usual gridlock and noise of Manhattan. We passed through narrow streets, quieter corners of New York I didn't recognize, making a mental note to get out more often once this madness was over.
About fifteen minutes in, the car slowed to a stop beside a small, quiet park. The kind you'd miss if you weren't looking for it. Marcel stepped out and opened my door. I stretched as I got out, blinking in the evening sun.
Without a word, he reached for my hand and led me across the grass to a quiet patch under a tall maple tree. He sat down on the grass, patting the space next to him as a signal for me to join. I settled back against the tree trunk, letting the breeze and the soft rustle of leaves settle over us like a second blanket.
"Hi, I'm Marcel," he said suddenly.
I raised an eyebrow, laughing.
"What are you doing?"
"You said we didn't know each other well enough. So let's start fresh."
"Okay, Marcel. I'm Elliott."
"Hi Elliott."
He smiled widely at me and I couldn't stop myself from grinning widely, a bubbly warmth consuming me. The evening glow cast a golden hue on his features and I took a few moments to snap a mental picture of it. His hair was ruffled by the breeze and a faint redness dusted his cheeks, possibly from the chill autumn air.
