Theories.

From Time {twenty-six}

"What are you doin' here sweetheart?"

"Came to visit," I reply, setting her down. "Colorado is great but... I missed it here."

Mrs. Clarkson places both hands on my cheeks and pecks me right on the lips, just like a mother, before dragging me inside. "Did you know? Did you know Marcus would be here?" she rambles excitedly. "Marcus! Someone's here!" she calls. I hear movement from upstairs before Marcus charges down the stairs.

Of course he's here. The one time I come back home, he happens to be here.

We can be friends. It's okay. We can be just friends.

Despite warning myself over and over again, I still get the flutter in my chest when I see him. At the sight of me, his jaw drops. I can tell I'm blushing furiously.

Whenever I first heard the phrase 'tall, dark and handsome', I thought of Marcus Clarkson. I had friends, yes. And I played football for two years. Marcus was team captain. But other than that, I was on the outside: doing activities to stay out of trouble but not really caring that much.

That didn't mean I wasn't social.

Marcus, with his deep brown skin and fresh haircuts and tall figure—I felt like a complete idiot for having a crush on him. He was popular, well-liked, the principal's son; undoubtedly, he'd heard about my crazy mom.

Being partnered up for a project is what ultimately sealed the deal. I didn't want him near my house; we stayed at his. We spent the whole time making out and having other kinds of fun instead of working. It was the first "B" grade Marcus ever got in his life. He said it was worth it.

Now, he looks at me like he's in love or something. I'm not worried about looking soft or anything; I wrap my arms around his shoulder and waist, and he greets me the same way.

"What are you doing here?" he asks. "God, I—are you back?"

"No, I'm visiting," I say excitedly. "What are you doing?"

Marcus finally lets me go. "I live only two hours away, man! I'm here almost every month. How did you even—"

"I have the most amazing friends, you wouldn't believe," I interrupt. Seeing Marcus again is like hearing your favorite song. You can't believe that however many times you listen to it, it's still great, and amazing, and you don't know how to explain it.

But god, it's good.

"You have to stay for brunch, sweetheart. It'll be ready in ten minutes," Mrs. Clarkson says. I don't even bother protesting. I absolutely adore that it's just Mrs. Clarkson and Marcus here, and she still cooks an elaborate meal for just the two of them. Nothing says 'I actually love my family' than that.

"Thank you so much," I smile. Marcus pulls my arm. "We'll be down in a minute. " I rush up to Marcus' room with him and feel myself perk up instantly at the familiarity of it.

"Man—what are you really doin' here?" Marcus asks. Both of us flop on his bed, laying side-by-side, hands behind our heads like we're staring at the stars.

"My dad's in the hospital."

"Well why aren't you there?" Marcus asks. "Last time I checked, you live on the other side of town, my man." I shrug. "Ay, I can call Lani every week if you want. I forgot she's still at home."

I sigh, turning to face him. He looks at me expectantly, big brown eyes glossing my face over as per usual. "I don't wanna talk about my house."

"Then don't," Marcus says with a smile. "Can we talk about this though?" And with that, Marcus brushes the hair on my face. "How long did this take you? I don't know how many times you tried to grow this out when we were—well, you know."

I laugh. "It took forever."

"Looks good."

"You look good."

"Always," Marcus says with a cocky smile. He gently runs his fingers through my beard before placing his hand on the back of my neck. "I'm glad you think so," he whispers, his lips only a few inches from my own.

"I have a boyfriend," I say quietly. Marcus nods.

"Knew it."

"What do you mean you knew it?" I laugh. Marcus stands up and leaves the room. "Marcus? What are you—"

He comes back in, doing some kind of funny walk. "What are you doing?" I chuckle. "What is that?"

"This is what you did when you walked up in my house, bro. This is the 'I have a boyfriend walk'," Marcus laughs, proceeding to make awkward circles around the room. "Nah, but really? I didn't think you were the type." I shrug in response. "Is he white?"

"His name is Frasier."

"He's white. What's he look like?" Marcus asks with a chuckle. He digs in a bag and pulls out his tablet. "Show me." He pulls up Facebook and hands it over to me. I don't have Facebook; I know Frasier does.

I almost gasp when I see his profile picture. It's a picture of him and me; I'm kissing his cheek and he's scrunching up his nose in that cute way he always does. Marcus raises an eyebrow curiously. I'm appalled that he's taking this so well, considering the fact that we were very, very much wrapped up each in each other when we were in high school.

I click through more of Frasier's pictures—and it's like I'm seeing him for the first time again. There's a picture of him and Tempest, making the same derp face over two cups of coffee.

I love him so much.

"He looks like a girl."

"Doesn't act like one. Or fuck like one," I shrug. "He's great. He likes photography."

"He's good at it, too," Marcus comments. "Look at this one." Marcus clicks on a picture from six months ago. It's me. Black and white and casually looking up at the camera from the sofa at Tempest and Sherman's house. I must've been tired, because I don't usually let him take random pictures of me.

I smile at the photo. How much time he put into getting the right angle and editing it perfectly. "Yeah, yeah. He's amazing."

"Boys! Time to eat!" I hear Mrs. Clarkson announce from downstairs.

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Trevor Jackson as Marcus :D

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a/n: thank you for reading! you know the drill, my dudes :D

things are looking up!