Grooving to Life's Beat

Love the Way You Lie, Marshall!

The streets of New York buzzed with their usual nighttime energy as I walked home, the cool air brushing against my skin. The city was alive: horns blowing, people talking, the hum of a subway train beneath my feet somewhere in the distance. As for me? I was exhausted.

The day had started early with my writing class, which I loved, but the second I left the classroom behind, reality hit hard. I had to rush to Alfred's office, where the mountain of legal paperwork and his nitpicky demands seemed endless. There, I found myself drowning in a sea of legal jargon that blurred my brain, stretching my patience thin. As much as I was doing this to please my family, it was beyond draining.

I stepped inside my building, the familiar creak of the floor beneath my feet welcoming me home. My body begged for sleep, my mind racing through a checklist of things I could do tomorrow. Just go straight home, I thought. You've earned it. Bed is waiting, and all you need is to shut your eyes for a few blissful hours.

As I moved toward the stairs, my gaze drifted toward Angela's door, and almost instinctively, my mind wandered to Marshall. I wondered if he was there, just on the other side of the wall, going about his life without a second thought. My feet hesitated, lingering in the hallway. The urge to see him, to get some kind of explanation, was strong, but my gut churned, whispering caution. Don't do it, Emma. This is a mistake.

Still, despite better judgment, as if on autopilot, I found myself walking toward Angela's door. I'll just pop in. Say hi. Casual visit, I lied to myself, fully aware of what I was really hoping for: answers. Or maybe a glimpse of Marshall, something to confirm that the connection we shared wasn't just a fleeting moment.

I raised my hand to knock, already regretting it. God, I'm so pathetic, I thought, cringing at how desperate this all seemed. What was I even doing? Dropping by unannounced, hoping to bump into him? Really smooth, Emma.

Before I could talk myself out of it, my knuckles lightly tapped the wood. Too late to back out now.

The door swung open, and my rehearsed casual greeting caught in my throat. It wasn't Angela.

It was Jeannine.

My heart sank, and for a moment, I just stared at her, completely speechless. Jeannine arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, her expression tight, clearly displeased to see me standing there.

"Uh... hi," I finally managed, my voice barely above a whisper.

Her eyes flickered over me with thinly veiled disdain, lingering on me just long enough to make it clear that she wasn't happy to see me here. Last time we'd crossed paths at the rap battle, I had shown up holding Marshall's hand, and that brief detail hadn't gone unnoticed.

"Hey... can I help you?" Her tone was laced with sarcasm, making it obvious she wasn't offering help but rather questioning why I had the nerve to show up at all.

"Is, um... Angela here?" I asked, trying to mask the awkwardness with a casual smile. Inside, though, I felt like an idiot. What was I even doing here?

"She's not." She leaned against the doorframe with casual arrogance, arms crossed over her chest, like she was already bored of the conversation.

Just as I was about to stammer some lame excuse, Marshall appeared behind her, his face changing the second he saw me standing there. His easygoing expression shifted into something else, something more guarded, maybe even a little tense.

"What's up?" Marshall asked, his tone clipped as he stepped closer to Jeannine, peering past her to get a better look at me.

Jeannine glanced between the two of us, smirking as if she understood something I didn't. Before she could say anything, Marshall's jaw clenched, and his eyes darkened.