love bites » marcelee.

19: Dinner Dud

Chapter Nineteen: Dinner Dud

Marceline combed through her hair once, twice. She didn't even bother to put on a lot of makeup (partially because she didn't have much); just the usual black eyeliner.

Last night, Marshall had kissed her. She couldn't believe he did it twice in one night. When he let the kiss end, it burrowed into her subconscious as another memory to replay before she'd sleep. Except that she didn't sleep. Whenever she tried to catch a wink, he would invade her mind, and the thought of him kept her up all night. He's going to pay for that.

Today, Marceline wore a dark violet strapless dress with a dull pink sash, lilac stockings with dark purple stripes and a pair of pink heels. Her hair was parted and hung down so as to hide her ear piercings. At the same time, she had to wear a cardigan to cover her sleeve tattoo. Her father told her to leave a "good impression" on their guests.

Hunson had invited his business partner over for dinner. Last night, he was grabbing a midnight snack (sandwich and mustard) from the fridge when he told his daughter that. So she had to cancel all her plans for today (not like she had any, to begin with). She was going to text or perhaps call Marshall but she figured not, since he didn't even bother to contact her.

Marceline went downstairs, passing by the kitchen where Hunson was in, laying plates on the dining table. Why did he drag her into this again? She didn't want any part in it. But it's already too late to go back up and lock herself up in her room as the doorbell rang and she was told to answer it.

When Marceline opened the door, she wasn't expecting to see a lady in front of her. The lady had the beauty of a carefully cultivated hauteur - skilfully applied lipstick, mascara and rouge, and expensive clothes tailored to highlight a perfect figure. Her long ebony hair was lustrous, and her eyes were the strongest shade of mahogany.

"Hello there, young lady," she greeted with a smile, displaying a row of straight pearly-white teeth. "You must be Marceline."

"Uh, yeah. Please come in." Marceline moved out of the way for her to enter the house.

She was about to shut the door when it halted midway. Looking down, she saw that a shoed foot was wedged in between. What the heck? She swung the door open and was taken aback to come face to face with him.

"Marshall?"

"Hey, Marcy." he acknowledged her with a sly grin.

Marshall Lee was wearing a white dress shirt with a striped necktie under a black buttoned vest, and a pair of black corduroy pants. His feet were encased in black patent leather shoes. His black hair, which usually hung down across his forehead, was gelled into a carefully casual disarray. He looked really attractive, with his hands in his pockets, casually leaning against the doorframe.

"I know. I look great." he self-praised with a nonchalant shrug before brushing past her.

Marceline shook her head, smiling in amusement. A different look, but still the same ego. She closed the door and headed to where they were all at.

"Hunson, this is my son, Marshall." the lady acquainted her son to Hunson.

So, she's Marshall's mother. Marceline thought he hated her. So why were they here together? Hmm. Anyway, that didn't matter at this point. But what a coincidence for those two dysfunctional families to be together for dinner. This was interesting.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Abadeer." Marshall said and gave Hunson a firm handshake.

"Oh, please. Just call me Hunson," Hunson said. "What a handsome young man you have here."

"Thank you. Your daughter is absolutely gorgeous, if I do say so myself." Marshall's mother returned the compliment.

Oh boy, Marceline mentally face-palmed herself.

» » »

"So, Marceline. You go to the same school as Marshall, am I right?" Helena (whom Marceline addressed as Mrs. Lee) asked.

"Yeah." Marceline replied and glanced beside her at Marshall, who seemed absulutely uninterested in whatever's happening.

"Are you two friends?" Hunson asked.

"No." Marshall answered before Marceline could even say a word.

Oh, she saw where this was going.

Helena took a bite out of the lasagna (courtesy of Hunson), chewed and swallowed before asking Marceline a question again. "What do you plan to do after graduation?"

"Oh, well... I'm gonna go to college and study music as my major." Marceline answered her with little enthusiasm.

"I see," Helena said then looked at Marshall before facing her again. "I've always wanted my boy to follow in my footsteps."

"But that's not what I want." Marshall muttered, gingerly scraping the lasagna on his plate with a fork.

Helena cleared her throat to divert their attention away from him. But Marceline guessed that it was also a way of warning him to watch his mouth.

"As I was saying, Marshall's taking business studies." Helena said to her, almost insistently.

Marshall scoffed and dropped his cutlery. "That's nothin' but a load of-"

"Marshall." Helena raised her voice curtly to silence him.

"What? Just because you're the matriarch of the family and owner of your own "company", doesn't mean you can dictate my life."

Helena's eyes flashed with resentment. "I'm not dictating your life. I just thought that you'd want to make me pr-"

"You know what, Mom? Forget it." Marshall leaned back against the chair, clearly done with this argument.

Marceline patted him on his knee under the table and gave him a sympathetic look furtively, calming him down a bit.

"Um, how's the food?" Hunson asked, trying to ease the tension.

"Quite palatable." Helena answered with a smile.

Dinner carried on as usual, with small talks here and there. When the adults were engrossed in their own conversation (oh you know, business talk), Marshall would discreetly brush his hand against Marceline's thigh under the table, to which she had to pinch him a lot of times for him to stop messing around. Then his ankle would lightly graze hers, giving her goosebumps. Somehow he enjoyed doing that.

And then someone's phone rang.

Marshall pulled out his phone from his pocket, his eyes scanning the caller ID, and stood up. "Sorry, I gotta answer this call. Excuse me."

"Don't take too long." Helena adjured him as he left the dining area and exited the house through the front door.

Three minutes passed. No Marshall. Three more minutes passed. Still no Marshall. His food's getting cold. He barely, if not, never even touched it.

"What is taking that boy so long?" Helena asked rhetorically in annoyance.

"He's probably still outside." Hunson said.

Here's her chance.

"I'll go check on him." Marceline offered, and after the adults gave her the permission to leave the table temporarily, she stood up to head out of the house.