Grooving to Life's Beat

Love him or Hate him: The Marshall Mathers Effect

The morning after the party found me at Angela's cozy kitchen table, cradling a steaming cup of coffee she had kindly offered. Well past 11 am, the sunlight filtered through the window, casting a gentle glow that softened the remnants of last night's late return. Dressed in the comfort of jean shorts and a black hoodie, I concealed my makeup-free face beneath a black cap.

Lost in my thoughts, replaying the events of the previous night, I watched absentmindedly as Angela rummaged through the cupboards, searching for a mug, my gaze involuntarily drifting towards the hallway, secretly hoping for a glimpse of Marshall. Lately, his presence had become a sort of necessary evil, pulling me in with an invisible force I couldn't resist. Too shy to admit my growing interest in him and fearful he might not reciprocate, I kept my feelings hidden, maintaining a casual facade.

"Did you manage to get any sleep last night?" Angela's voice broke the silence, finally finding the cup she was looking for, and pouring herself some coffee.

"Barely," I admitted with a small chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. "My mind was racing with everything that happened. It took me ages to finally drift off." Because like a psihotic, compulsiv obsessive freak that I am, I dwelled on every detail of the night, replaying each moment over and over again.

And as hard as it was to believe, I had to confront a truth I didn't want to face: my thoughts were more consumed with Marshall and his crazy behavior than with Alexander, the man I had spent the last few years of my life with. It was a strange and unsettling shift in focus, one that I couldn't quite make sense of yet.

"I can imagine." Angela, oblivious to the contradicted emotions I felt inside, smiled and took a seat next to me. "Last night was... eventful, to say the least," she continued, reaching for a cookie from the plate on the table. "And by the way, sorry about Marshall; he really crossed the line last night!" she offered me a sympathetic shrug and I winced at the sound of his name. "But honestly, there's not much I can do about it." Her tone was apologetic, yet resigned, as if she'd long accepted Marshall's unpredictable nature.

Waving off her concern with a light-hearted laugh, I responded, "Oh, don't worry about it! I probably stepped over the line too. I know I can be a bit much sometimes, but hey, after three glasses of champagne, who wouldn't be?" I replied, trying to hide my angst with a chuckle. But of course, I was lying. The way Marshall changed his attitude towards me was inexplicable and frustrating. From the intimate moments we shared that morning to the absolute war we fought last night, there was an enormous difference.

"Three glasses, huh?" Angela's laughter filled the kitchen, her head shaking in mild amusement as she crunched on the chocolate biscuit. "That certainly explains the superhero-level confidence you had last night!" The tease drew a wave of embarrassment from me, causing my cheeks to flush with a warmth I hoped wasn't too visible.

"Yeah, let's not talk about it!"  I said, hiding my face behind my hand, unable to resist laughing along, despite the flush of embarrassment still evident on my cheeks.

"Next time, let's aim for two glasses, shall we? Might make Marshall's evening a bit smoother. You really did press some of his buttons, made him squirm a bit here and there." Angela's eyes sparkled with amusement, clearly finding humor in the tension of the previous night. "But he totally deserves that. He can be such a jerk; it's good for him to be thrown off his game once in a while." She took a sip of her coffee, a satisfied grin on her face.

"He is a little prick, I have to say," I admitted, feeling a mix of guilt and defiance. "But something felt off. He seemed annoyed even before I arrived. Then, I made it worse with my acidic comments, but that's totally a different story!" I chuckled, feeling that there was more to Marshall's behavior than met the eye, and my curiosity about him was growing despite my attempts to dismiss it.