Your Second Half [Completed]

Emerald

A/N:SO freaking tired...had cheer practice. Hope you guys like this chapter because...yeah i just want you to. You guys can count on me to update every day or every 2-3 days...until school starts. It may be more spread out but I won't leave you guys hanging. Thanks for the reads, comments, likes and favorites I've gotten so far!

-Mone'

***

It's Saturday afternoon and Marcel and I arranged for me to go over to his place. Well not arrange, more like me telling him I'm coming over and his nervously agreeing.

After giving me his address I hopped into my car and headed over to his house. As I was walking the path to his front door, i couldn't help but admire his home. It's average and quite woodsy (if that's a word). I ring the door bell and not even three seconds later, he answers the door. Was he waiting? Eager much?

"Hey Lori" he smiles, stepping aside to let me in.

"Hey...nice place" I say as I look over the interior.

A burst of delicious air hits my senses and only recognize it as Mexican food. As if Marcel read my mind, "My mom's making enchiladas for lunch."

"Mom?" I ask, not knowing she'd be here for her sons 'make over'... awkward.

"Yeah she's in the kitchen, follow me."

I follow him to the kitchen to see a beautiful women, leaned over a stove, cutting cilantro.

Marcel clears his throat and she instantly looks in our direction, a huge smile spread across her face.

"This must be Lori!" she says walking towards me and embracing me in a bone crushing hug. "I've heard so much about you!"

"Mom..." Marcel complains and she instantly lets go. She holds me at arms length by my shoulders, "You're a beauty" she cooes and I feel heat rise onto my face. "You're the first girl Marcel has every brought home." I look to him out the corner of my eye and see our faces are the same color.

"Alright, mom, that's enough. Lori and I have something to do" he says and grabs me by the wrist, whisking me away upstairs.

"Sorry about her." 'It's alright" I giggle.

***

Looking through Marcel's closet is like watching reruns of Spongebob, very entertaining when you come across it but you instantly predict what's coming next.

Seriously, all I see are button up shirts, dress pants and suspenders. "I thought you said you had jeans." "Oh, I do" he says and reaches to the top of the wardrobe pulling out a couple boxes. His height oddly intrigues me. Me being 'average' height and him still being this much taller than me?

Out of whack.

He placed the boxes on his bed and open them. He brought out all types of shirts and jeans and even a couple pairs of converse. I was surprised to see a few beanies in there as well. If he has all these other clothes, why doesn't he wear them?

"Where's you get all this?"

"Relatives usually."

"Why don't you wear them?"

"I don't know, never actually paired them. I don't throw them away either because that's just wasteful."

and they're brand new!?

***

After I pair each pair of pants and shirt together, I hang them in his closet. I leave out one outfit, white 'Hipsta Please' shirt, black jeans and white converse. I lay the items on his bed and lead him to where he told me the bathroom was. I sat him on the toilet lid and brought a cosmetics bag of mine.

"Take your glasses off for me." He does as told and removes them from his face, folding the arms before setting them on the bathroom counter.

"I'm gonna need you to hold still" I say as I try and fish out the tweezers (however you spell that). I bring them out and hold them in one hand as I cup Marcel's cheek, angling his face with the other. He closes his eyes and winces every time I pluck a hair.

"Stay still" I hiss. I get a few more and brush away any extras with my fingers. I set the tweezers down and take hold of his face between my hands, angling his face to see if his eyebrows are even. I didn't shape them, just got rid of the little hairs forming a uni-brow. I shudder at the thought of him having one.

I sense his gaze on my face as I check his brows, softly rubbing my thumbs over them. I shift my gaze down a little and our line of vision connect.

I never knew his eyes were so green, emerald, maybe even a jade. I would've never noticed behind his glasses. "What?" I smile, questioning his stare as it was held long before mine.

He blinks a few times "N-nothing."

After that aco-taco situation was over I told Marcel to grab a chair and bring it into the bathroom. He did and I set it in front of the sink, the back of it facing the sink. I told him to sit and he did that as well. I started to run my fingers through his hair and tussle it a bit. I grabbed the cup he also brought me and filled it with water.

"Lean your head back" I instructed and he did as told. I ran the water from the cup through his hair.

"That's cold" he whined. "Want it in your hair or on your face?" "Cold is fine."

that's what i thought.

I didn't use shampoo, 1) there wasn't that much grease in his hair so it wasn't necesary 2) we're in the sink. Who does he think I am, Ms. Beauty salon major?

As I ran my fingers through his hair I notice it start to curl. I would've never guessed it as curly.

When I was done I gave him a towel to dry his hair. He stood to his looming height and looked at himself in the mirror. He ran his fingers through his damp curls and shrugged.

This may be a familiar sight to him...but to me. DAMN! calm down Lori, I tell myself.

He has difficulty placing his hair so i help him out. I reach up to his hair and sweep the front, that covers his eyes, to the side. He smiles a small smile and I return one.

Then and there I realize how incomparably beautiful Marcel Styles really is.

***

"Are you decent?"

After finishing his hair I sent him into his room to change into the clothes I laid out. I've been waiting outside his closed room door for like ten minutes. It was taking too long.I was ready to barge in there.

"Uh, yeah"

I open the door to see him just pulling the shirt over his head. My previous question of Marcel's fitness has been answered. o.o

I absolutely adore his nerdy gear but this, this was...well, hot.

"You look great!" I exclaim, loving the fact that he kept his glasses on. At least a piece of his formal look.

"Really?"

Hell yeah.