Loving Marcello

Chapter Ten

"Oh my damn, yummm." I say, savoring the unknown food.

I have no idea what I'm eating, since I let Mr. Toughguy order for me, but I do know that it is absolutely delicious.

It's some sort of chicken soup, but with flavorings I've never even tasted before. And the cabbage actually tastes good.

"You like?" Mr. Toughguy asks, raising a brow.

"No. I love. This is delicious!" I exclaim, bringing another spoonful to my mouth.

"Good." He says, seeming proud of himself as he casually eats his. I don't know how he's not freaking out about how good this stuff is. He's on crack, I swear to god.

After 20 more minutes of me obsessing over how good the soup is, we're both done and I'm more than ready to go home. I'm eager to jump into my plush bed and let it embrace me as I cuddle the weird, yet comfy pillows.

I sigh dreamingly just thinking about it.

When we emerge from the restaurant, there's a slick black, expensive-looking car waiting outside.

I gape as Mr. Toughguy gets into the drivers seat.

"Wait, this is your car?" I ask in disbelief.

He looks up, "Oh, yeah, I had a
...friend drop it off for me." He says casually.

I eye the black beauty suspiciously.

"Just get in." He sighs impatiently. "Unless you wanna wait for a cab. Or worse, walk." He says the last part like it's the worst thing in the world. Which it is. With my throbbing feet, I don't think I could handle it.

I sigh in defeat, and climb into the car with a grunt.

When the engine comes to life, I feel my lips pull up into a smile at how smooth it sounds. Such a healthy car he has here. And clean. Amazing interior. Nice black leather.

"Are you...petting my car?" Mr. Toughguy asks incredulously.

"Why do you ask the obvious?" I roll my eyes.

"Why are you petting my car?" He corrects.

"Because I can." I reply shortly.

"Is that your reply to everything?" He rolls his eyes, looking annoyed, but hey, what's new?

"Pretty much, yeah." I admit with no shame whatsoever.

He sighs, "You're such an odd person."

"Or maybe I'm just normal, and you're the weird one." I offer with a grin.

He pretends to think for a second, "Nope, I'm pretty sure you're the weird one here." He concludes.

"Are you sure?" I ask, raising a brow.

"Positive." He replies, dead serious.

"Which further proves you're actually the crazy one here." I giggle.

"What? How?" He furrows his brow, glancing from the road for a second to look at me.

"Because I said so." I say.

"And does it seem like I care what you say?" He asks, deadpanning.

"Not really, but I do, and that's all that matters." I say quickly.

"Ehh. Not really." He points out.

"Yes, really." I argue.

"No." He repeats.

"Yes." I snap back at him.

"Nope." He says, glancing at me again.

"Yep." I glare at him.

"Yes." He smirks.

"No." I say, then my face twists in confusion, "Wait, what?"

"Aaannndd, I win that argument." He says triumphantly.

"Wait, what? How? Why?" I ask, still confused, not knowing what happened.

"I got you to admit that it doesn't matter what you say or think." He says proudly.

"Wait, no. No you didn't. Liar." I narrow my eyes at his cocky self.

"Yes I did." He says confidently.

"I refuse to accept that." I say defiantly, raising my chin stubbornly.

"Well, whatever floats your boat here." He shrugs.

I narrow my eyes at him, "You're such a meanie."

Before I can even blink, his face hardens.

Aww, come on! We were actually having a pleasant conversation and his mood wants to swing now?

What bullshit.

He doesn't speak as he keeps his eyes on the road.

"Wow, Mr. Toughguy, you're actually quiet now. That's a first." I mutter, hoping to get him to talk, but he keeps quiet.

I roll my eyes, adjusting in my seat, hoping to find a comfortable position.

"Are we almost there yet?" I ask, growing impatient.

I just want that comfy bed.

He doesn't answer.

"Did you hear me? Are we almost there ye-"

"Shut up." He snaps, effectively shutting me up.

Wow.

That actually...hurt.

But I won't let him know that.

"No." I reply simply, but that seems to anger him.

He stops the car, causing the tires to screech, "I told you to shut up. So shut the fuck up. And I know you're too stupid to understand what that means, but do your best to understand, for my sake please."

My eyes widen, what the hell? What even happened to him? He was joking with me only minutes ago, and now he's all but yelling at me?

Maybe he is bipolar.

He has no right to yell at me like this.

He doesn't even know me. I don't know him.

We're strangers.

I don't know why we've been all buddy-buddy today. I don't know the first thing about him. I don't even know his name.

Does he even remember mine?

He hasn't called me by it. So I suppose he forgot it.

I'm about to tell him off, but I can't seem to force any words to pass my throat.

This is a harsh reality check.

Why do I feel like I'm about to cry.

He was literally choking me earlier, and I just laughed. Laughed.

Maybe I am crazy.

He takes a deep breath, then turns back to face the road and begins driving again.

I blink a couple times, wondering what just happened.

How does one simply say that to someone, then shamelessly turn away and pretend nothing happened?

Wow.

Disappointment.

Okay then.

I roll my eyes at both his behavior and mine. No need to get all emotional just because some stranger yells at me.

He stops the car and I realize that I'm at my hotel. I hurriedly undo my seatbelt, but am slowed down by the locked door.

I unlock it as fast as I can, but before I get out, I hear Mr. Toughguy speak up behind me.

"Marcello."

"Huh?" I freeze, not turning around to look at him.

"My name is Marcello."