JACEY'S POV
"Here are some clothes you can sleep in." Marcellus said gently, handing me some sleep clothing. We were sleeping in one room and Ethel and Mrs. Squires were sleeping in the other. I was nervous, I admit, to be sleeping next to such a gorgeous man. But he could never like me back. Not even in a hundred years when they had iPhones.
"Marce?" I asked in a fearful voice.
"Yes?"
"By gad... is this... what is going on in my life?" I asked. "The Gazette predicted smooth sailing, so I prepared for something bad. But not this. I'm so confused."
"Me too, Jace. Me too."
I was surprised to hear that coming from him. This confident, handsome man, was confused. Like I was.
"Go to sleep, Jace." He said softly. "You'll be okay in the morning."
-
"Jace..." Someone whispered into my ear. "Wake up. Ya been asleep for FOUR WEEKS!"
I tumbled out of bed as the screech hit my ear. I looked up to see Marce. "I've been asleep for four weeks?"
"No." He giggled. "But I needed to wake you."
"Oh..." I put a hand over my heart to calm the racing.
"Squaffelmier is still sleeping."
"Squaffelmier?"
"Squires and Toffelmier." He explained. "It's their by-gad tootin' names mashed together."
I smiled. "Oh." I looked at him. The way the sunlight hit his golden curls and his strong jawline. He was gorgeous. And then I thought about last night. I definitely did partake in the gay. But what level? When I looked at Marcellus it felt like level 2134253649853767836384. I felt the gayness. But otherwise, nothing. Maybe I was Marce-sexual.
"Jace?" Marcellus snapped me out of my gay-induced trance. "You okay there? You're so far gone ya couldn't tell ya from a cat bone in a hurricane."
"What?"
"I don't know. I've gotta go to town to catch up with old Gregory-I mean- Harold. Wake up the girls, wouldya?" And he left.
I sighed. He doesn't like me. Not in the way I like him.
MARCELLUS' POV
Greg was on a date, that much was clear. He was with Marian, but was I one to care? By-gad no! "Psst! HEY GREG!" I whisper-yelled.
They both jumped.
Marian stood with a huff. "Okay, that's it! WHY does he keep calling you Greg!"
I scoffed. "Pfft. I did no such thing. That's Harold."
"But you just-"
"No, I don't think so."
"WHO IS GREG?" She shrieked.
"I think you're the one calling him Greg now." I shrugged.
"I-"
"Bye, now!" I waved her off.
"Hey, Marce." Harold said. "What's going on?"
"I'm in a bit of a pickle here, Greg. Ya see... I think I love someone... and that someone ain't Ethel. But Ethel partakes in the gay with Jacey's god send friend, so that's alright. The problem is I don't know if this someone likes me back, jeely cly."
"I'm sure they do... now can we talk about me?"
"Jeely cly, you're a selfish old son of a gun, Gregory. But sure."
