The Choice

Chapter 7, The Choice

Chapter 7

After breakfast, Marcie carted the Walmart clothes Jesse had picked up for her, the night before, into the bathroom. She climbed into the hot shower and scrubbed her head a little harder than she needed to, but she was mad—mad at herself for not coming clean about the dream. What was the big deal? Well, she already knew the answer. Listening to Jesse talk last night about Elise and how untrustworthy she had been, there was something about Sam, in his quiet confliction, that made Marcie want his respect. She didn't want to be like Elise.

After she dressed in the pale shirt and khaki shorts that were a size too big, she wandered out to Sam.

She found him on the balcony in the bright sun, barefoot, wearing blue jeans and a clean white T-shirt. He appeared lost in another world, a deep thinker who leaned over the railing, staring into the street. The wind fluttered the sheer curtains, beckoning her forward, so she stepped closer to the lively chatter drifting in from outside. Marcie clenched her damp hands and then relaxed, releasing a slow, measured breath. One step closer, almost there. The floor creaked on the threshold of the small balcony, and Sam turned and leaned against the black iron rail. He crossed his strong arms. He said nothing, but his hardened eyes reflected suspicion.

"I lied," she said.

"I know."

Marcie stood so close that she could feel his warm breath whisk over the top of her head. She licked her bottom lip, sucking in a breath for courage. The breeze whipped up her damp hair. Don't be scared. "I don't know if it was real...." A sharp knock at the door hurled her insides a little closer to the edge. Frustrated, she let her head drop toward her chest. How could she confess with this unwelcome interruption?

"That's got to be Jesse." Sam brushed past Marcie, his heavy steps echoing down the hall.

Marcie claimed Sam's spot leaning over the rail, taking in the beautiful view from this second-floor apartment. The vibrant energy from the colorful crowds of people on the street below rose up and connected with her. For a moment, she was pulled into the flamboyant revelry, like a powerful magnet intercepting a rainbow of emotions from all the people on the street: joy, lust, anger, jealousy, being hurried.

"Oh my God—what the hell?" She jumped back. Her whole body stung as she trembled. Flustered, she pressed her hands flat against the white stucco, flooded by some instinct to breathe. Her mind stilled. She sucked in another deep breath, and the tightness twisting up her stomach eased. "I must be going crazy." Spooked, she remained plastered against the wall.

"Marcie."

She jumped as if a fist had jabbed her heart and slammed shut some secret door inside.

"You okay? What are you doing? You talking to someone?" Sam reached out and grasped her elbow, a gentle touch filled with tender concern.

"Yes, no—sorry, just some weirdness, that's all." Nervous flutters began inside her chest. He was so good looking, and those solid, tanned arms of his—a girl could get lost in them. His closeness became too much. She needed to look away, so she stalled and tucked her unruly damp hair behind her ears to shake off Sam's amazing intensity, a gaze like the depths of the ocean weaving its way into her heart.

"What?" Sam moved closer.

"This is going to sound nuts, but I got scared. I leaned over the balcony and suddenly I was in all those people's heads, picking up what they were feeling." She shut her eyes and refused to look at him. "See? I told you. It even sounds crazy to me. Maybe I'm going crazy," she rambled, and he stopped her by gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes popped open. His touch stirred some lovely, odd feelings inside her. The way he looked at her made her feel as if what she had said wasn't so crazy—not to him.