To Know You

Chapter Forty-Two

~Chapter Forty-Two~

I barely slept a wink last night. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Marco staring back at me. Although his face is considerably handsome—and under different circumstances I wouldn't mind dreaming of his face—the fact that he could kill me in a blind rage makes me think otherwise.

The school day was exhaustive and I feel a sense of impatience sitting in my last class, staring at the slow moving clock hands on the wall clock ticking.

"Just before the bell rings, I would like to discuss our next in-class assignment," my teacher announces, proceeding to hand out a piece of paper to each student.

The paper slides onto my desk and I lazily stuff it into my binder, completely ignoring everything around me.

At least being this exhausted has taken my mind off of everything. That stupid phone call Carter had especially.

Marco doesn't deserve to have my undivided attention like that.

The bell finally sounds, causing every student around me to shoot up from their seats and head for the door.

"See you tomorrow, class," the teacher calls out over everyone's voices of excitement at having finished another day.

I grab my books, stuff them in my bag, and head for the door. Swiftly, I weave my way through the crowds and push through the nearest set of doors.

The parking lot becomes filled with students, heading for their parked vehicles, and I have to stop in my tracks to avoid being hit by a speeding car.

I wait for the car to pass and resume my journey, when suddenly I see him. Walking towards me with his devilish smile and denim cut off shirt atop his ripped skinny jeans, Marco approaches, and my stomach drops.

"Casey," he greets, his eyes twinkle as he reaches my, undoubtably, tense frame. The brown locks atop his head have grown out since I saw him last, hanging partly on his forehead in an almost curl—like the 1960's cartoon Superman.

His beard has grown out again, giving him a mysterious, scruffy look.

Upon seeing him, I force myself to swallow the lump in my throat and put on a half hearted smile, pleading with God that I don't look like a scared chihuahua.

"Marco, hi," I reply, successfully masking the fear in my voice, "It's been a while."

He exhales, seeming almost relieved by my response. "I was just passing by with my friends, when I saw you walking." His explanation doesn't take away any of the fear I feel, because I know he probably was waiting for me, rather than passing through.

"Oh, well, it was nice chatting with you," I smile again and start walking towards my car.

He blocks my path, swiftly stepping in front of me.

His hand comes to rest on my bicep and the skin of his fingers is hot to the touch. I freeze in place and slowly glance up at him.

The way his eyes shift over my face, I can tell he's analyzing me. Calculating his next move.

For a moment, I see an unfamiliar darkness. A look he's reserved especially for his enemies, a look reserved for Carter.