Dangerous: A Marcel Styles Fan Fiction

20: Where We Are

20: Where We Are

   How I’d managed to talk Georgia Rose out of my wearing of red leather stilettos was still a mystery to me, and a relieve when Marcel parked his bike at the side of the road in front of a trail rising high up into the mountains. Again as dusk settled over Los Angeles, he took me here, to the Hollywood sign. Tonight, the sky was clearer than it had been when we’d last came here, exterminating high chances of rain.

   Marcel once again tried to be a gentleman and carried me up the long hill until we reached the moderately flat grounds near the fence. We trailed along it, his arm over my bare shoulders, until we reached the hole in the fence giving us access to the white shining letters and view of the shining city.

   For the first little bit, we were joking around as friends, even when the sky grew dark and the air colder. At the first sign of a shiver, he handed me his leather jacket with a dimpled grin on his face, yet it still didn’t feel romantic to me. It felt like we were just two friends who had decided to pass the barriers and go to the Hollywood sign.

   A romantic mood didn’t hang in the air until after our goofing off when the sky’s crimson colors were barely visible anymore and instead were replaced with blacks and blues. This was when we sat together on the dusty grass, soon falling onto our back and gazing up at the stars. Marcel’s arm fell around me and we cuddled, like we had yesterday after sex (only this time there was a significant lack of bare skin and ecstasy).

   “I know you got that tattoo for me,” I said, tracing the spot near his dick where the image of a small blue butterfly was inked permanently into his skin.

   “I knew you’d figure it out eventually,” he confessed.

   “It only took a dumb blonde to point it out to me.”

   He let out a little chuckle in a sigh, giving me a glimpse of his adorable dimpled smile. However, since earlier today a question came to both Georgia Rose and I, making my throat tighten just thinking of it. He’d have to live with this inked in scar forever.

   “What happens if –”

   “Even if we do break up,” he spoke, interrupting me. His green gaze turned and interlocked with mine. “I’m keeping it. You’ll always be my first and nothing can change that. That night was the best night of my existence, and I’m not just going to hide that.”

   Though losing my virginity to a former nerd was definitely something I would never forget no matter how hard I tried, I wouldn’t go as far as to get a tattoo depicting his memory (though admittedly with the trends of today a tattoo of thick nerd glasses would be kind of cute). But something else hit me in his reply, specifically the way he’d phrased it: “Break up.”

   “What are we?” I asked him quietly.

   I didn’t need to clarify. His softened eyes interlocked with my brown gaze told me he knew where I was going with that question. He knew full well from me never once saying back to him the words, “I love you,” though I had plenty of chances. Quite frankly, his willingness to pour out his heart to me so early in whatever kind of relationship we had freaked me out a little.

   “I’d like to think we have something different,” he answered, but vagueness remained. “What do you consider us to be?”

   Even I could tell his question was only a formality. Even though Marcel had transformed and done the unthinkable just for me, I continued to tell myself we were only friends, however, parts of me were never so sure. And this I confessed to him; my thoughts and my uncertainty. He didn’t even have to speak to let me know his side of things.

   “What do we tell people?” I purred, fingers of my left hand playing with his curls.

   “I think we should meet in the middle,” he breathed, eyes staring upwards into the space visible to us now; glittering stars and a shining moon. “Tell people at the moment we’re just…dating.”

   This seemed plausible. Dating was a time where a romance could be potentially budding, as he wanted, however it still wasn’t guaranteed to be exclusive, as I wanted. It was a simple compromise. Willingly I agreed, which only left for me one matter.

   “How much longer are you going to be this…‘bad’ version of yourself?” I questioned. “I mean, you’ve already kicked the crap out of Kevin, nearly killed Lionel and no one’s seen Cory since you dealt with him so I’m pretty sure he’s still in that locker.”

   Marcel’s expression was now hard and his gaze returned to meet mine. The silence stayed over us for a long time before he finally spoke again. “What do you mean?”

   “Well,” I started, unsure of what to say. My words were fairly clear the first time. “You’ve already proved yourself. No one will mess with either of us. Now that they’ve seen the side of you that can potentially kill them, I’m sure it won’t bring down my popularity if I date a nerd.”

   This time, his face softened, but his mouth didn’t curve into anything of a grin or smile and, instead, his eyes looked, sorrowful, as if he were mourning.

   “Veronica,” he began in a small voice, almost lower than a whisper. His gaze darted around, as if he were trying to avoid looking at me, until it finally settled and we were staring eye-to-eye. “No matter how…morbid this sounds, there will always be someone who wants to hurt me, and there will always be someone who wants to hurt you. And…and if this is the only way to keep you safe – the only way to keep us both from getting hurt – then I can’t be the person I came here as.”

   “Excuse me?” I breathed, even though I knew damn well where this was going. I knew every word he was going to say next, and it made my heart want to start and stop at the same time, and my throat tightened. It made all the little blue Veronica butterflies within my stomach flutter and make me nauseous.

   “If it means protecting you – if it means protecting us – then I’m never turning back.”