Marc has a three bedroom apartment that he and his parents live in. His parents are never around, always traveling to some crazy town on the other side of the country or sometimes the world. They still pay for the apartment, his car, and all other things they think he may need. Truth is that he is a rich boy, he would live in this crazy big house but he felt that when his parents were gone it would seem too empty. I pull up to the building, snatching my key and my phone. He gave me a key in case he wasn’t home and I needed somewhere to stay for the night or just to get away for a moment. I walk up the stairs to the fourth floor. I was trying to keep my mind off the topic of Eric so I count the steps. 41 steps later I step to the right into the hallway. I look at the door decorations as I walk down, noticing the early thanksgiving stuff on half of the doors. At the seventh door I stop, hesitating before putting in the key. The door clicks, I take a deep breath, and then I entered. The place was spotless. Typical Marc, I thought smirking as I look around. I see Marc making a sandwich in the kitchen not seeming to notice my entering. I quietly shut the door and tiptoe behind him. I wrap my arms around his waist and kiss him on the cheek. He only jumps a little before realizing that it was me. He turns around and kisses me on the lips. I smile into it and put my hands around his neck. His hands find its way down to my hips. I pull back and finish making his sandwich. He looks at me confused, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I’m fine,” I say trying to hide what happened.
“No, something is wrong,” he says turning me around. I look at his shirt, not wanting to see his face. I sigh; I forgot he had this sixth sense of always knowing when people were upset, especially me.
“Nothing is wrong, I’m ok,” I say a little angry. I didn’t want him to know what Eric did. But in reality, it was nothing. Yes, I felt that he did that on purpose but there were no actual feelings or anything. At least there were none that I knew of. My eyes start to sting so I hug Marc, crying silently into his chest. He squeezes me tight, not wanting to let go. I had a whole bunch of questions to ask myself. Why did I do that to Marc? What has gotten into me? Why am I crying? Why did Eric do that? Did he feel something that I didn’t? Why am I worrying about this? What am I getting myself into? I need answers to my questions but I can’t focus on that now. I pull away and kiss Marc lightly, smiling at him. He looks so confused that I feel sorry for him. But I am also confused so I don’t know how to respond to his silent questions. We just look at each other for a moment but for me it was getting really awkward. To stop the silence, I grab his plate with his sandwich and take a bite. My hand brushes his cheek then I turn away, walking into the living room. He follows me and plops down on the couch taking his sandwich from me. I sit down next to him and lean on him while he picks a movie to watch. I pull my phone out and text Carol telling her where I was before putting it on silent. I look at the time seeing how much time I knew I would have sitting here in this bubble of awkward. 3:42 pm that meant at least five hours. Great, I thought.
