Veni, Vidi, Vici

Marc‘s eyes were riveted to Grace’s elegant profile illuminated by the flickering fire that danced before them with its seductive choreography. She seemed to be trapped in a trance as she watched the dramatic movements on the television screen in front of her, her soft, pink lips slightly parted as her breathing accelerated into a sharp staccato. Marc could see out of the corner of his eyes the faint figures of Han Solo as he leaned in to kiss Princess Leia, for some reason the chics always seemed to like that part the best. Her lips were tugging up into a faint smile as she rested her chin forward on her knees, and in turn, he felt himself smiling at the sight as well.

The smile soon faded away as the memory of what had happened in the afternoon assailed him. Grace had been on edge and distant straight after the phone call. Something had obviously happened between her and her mom, and he could clearly recall that she hadn’t actually asked her mom to stay over. Did they have an argument? Whatever it was, Marc could tell that it’d upset her, and that fact didn’t sit well with him. He was going to have to question the matter, maybe after she finished the movie, so she’d be calmer.

Grace was utterly entranced by the intricate plotline being resolved right before her eyes on the small television. Her body instinctively leant forward, being drawn into the world of Jedi’s and the force. She could feel an unyielding, goofy grin spread across her face as the Rebels celebrated the fall of the Empire, it really was inevitable being affected by the joy that the characters felt. As the credits began rolling, she felt the caress of a biting breeze run over her skin, causing her body to silently quake. She’d completely forgotten about the cold weather and the quilt that had been previously wrapped tight around her body was now lying discarded behind her. Damn Star Wars and its addictiveness. At least now she wasn’t overwrought with emotion from her mother’s casual disregard for her earlier in the day.

After the incident, Marc and Bryony had been very vigilant with appearing nonchalant and ignorant. They’d made pizza together, which albeit having to take three hours of incessant trial and error, was still delicious. Then they’d eaten their creations outside on the deck in the cool night besides a campfire encased in some sort of large modern metal dish. Marc and Bryony had insisted on showing Grace the Star Wars Saga starting from the first movie made, so setting out a makeshift bed on the deck, they’d placed a small television before her. Now she had finished watching the sixth film and Grace was eager to start the prequel trilogy. She shuffled around on the small mountain of pillows and cushions to face Marc,
but all words stopped dead when she caught his burning stare. Grace swallowed, and licked her suddenly dry lips. She didn’t fail to notice as his gaze darted down to her mouth, making her feel more self conscious than ever.

“Do you wanna talk about what happened with your mom?”

Grace blinked, taken aback by his candour and then instantly wished that she’d been more careful with masking her emotions.

“You don’t really beat around the bush, do you?”

“No.”

Great, now she was never going to see the rest of Star Wars. “Well, um... it’s kind of personal.”

Marc tilted his head to the side slowly regarding her response “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to you know. I’m just kind of worried.”

His tone was low, soothing, running over her nerves like smooth butter, and brimming with such heart and sincerity that she almost wanted to start crying, then and there. A part of her, inexorably wanted to tell him, tell him everything and relieve the pressure in her chest, yet something, fear, made her hold back. She sighed and shuffled back into her sleeping bag, painfully aware of the tension that thickened the air. She could still feel his gaze on her, and she badly wanted to turn around and meet it, but instead settled for staring up into the starless sky, an endless black abyss hovering over her and the world.

She sensed movement from besides her, but didn’t dare to investigate. Out of the corner of
her eye, she could see Marc dark silhouette against the flickering firelight easing down into the sleeping back beside her. He was close, painfully so. She could almost feel the warmth radiating off his body and his fresh smell of musk and clean laundry was clearly noticeable.

She closed her eyes and allowed her senses to take over, drawing in a deep breath, she finally spoke “My sister is visiting.”

She turned her head, finally meeting those murky green eyes, and as if powered by some perpetual force she began talking. Talking talking talking, about everything that had happened in the afternoon and everything that’d happen in the past. The words were utterly uncontrollable once they left Grace’s mouth. She couldn’t undo them. Her rant continued until the fire had completely burnt out and her words were nothing but tear stained sobs and breathless gasps.

As her thoughts began to clear, she realised with a sudden blush that his arms had found their way across her shivering body and his hand was rubbing firm circles over her back. Grace stiffened and the shame in her actions washed over her. Great, she’d just cried in front of Marc Winston, again. Not wanting him to see her most likely swollen face, she buried her head deeper into his chest and hoped that he would presume she’d fallen asleep.

“Guys usually have no idea what to do when chics cry, but I guess I’ve kinda gotten the hang of it.”

If Grace could’ve become any redder with embarrassment, she probably would have accomplished it then. “Sorry... It’s just – It’s just that, I guess I’ve always wanted to tell someone about it.” She mumbled, her voice slightly muffled in his chest.

“Why don’t you stand up to then Grace?”

Grace sighed and nuzzled deeper into the warmth of his body, breathing in his calming scent and cherishing their close proximity which in any other situation would have been entirely inappropriate for ‘just friends’. She was painfully aware of every contact, their bodies melded together, his hands on her arm and back, and one of his legs wrapped around hers that were encased in the thick warmth of the sleeping bag, sadly.
“Grace, why are you afraid.” He murmured, tiptoeing around the topic to a similar question.

“It’s in my nature, Marc.”

Marc scrutinized the top of her head, feeling a surge of possessiveness and a need to protect the feeble girl shivering in his arms. He wanted to make her happy so badly that it almost rivalled his need for her in person. Seeing her cry, for the second time in such a short time from didn’t bode well with him, maybe he wasn’t treating her well enough, maybe he was the one who actually triggered the waterworks. Whatever it was, Marc didn’t like it, he wanted her to smile, smile at him to be precise. He contemplated her answer, and decided that it was one for both of his questions. In your nature, my ass, he wanted to say, but decided to not press it.

“I don’t like it when you cry. It makes me feel kinda un-manly.” It makes me feel like the biggest fucking dick in the world, you have no idea how deeply you really affect me.

Grace let out a watery chuckle and Marc’s heart swelled at the almost inaudible sound.

“Sorry, I promise to not cry for at least a month from now on. But to tell you the truth Marc, It feels quite good to cry in front of someone and have them listen.”

“I’ll always be there to listen to you, Grace.” The words were so quite, the phrase seemed to carry into the wind and disappear, yet as soon as they were out, Marc almost cringed from the stupid cheesiness. “I’ll always be there, for you full stop.” Shut the fuck up Marc before you start vomiting love poetry proclaiming your undying devotion to ‘thy fair maiden’.

Grace looked up, forgetting about the red and swollen state of her eyes and peered timidly at Marc’s stoic face, slightly shocked by his words.

“But for how long?” She said, finally voicing the thought that had been in her head for so long.

Marc studied her closely, almost afraid to answer, and instead opted for admiring her instead, her eyes were slightly red from the crying, her lips moist and parted, breathing in short breaths, she was beautiful. So. Fucking. beautiful. If someone had told him that he’d be holding a girl on a cold November night and be completely head over heels in love with her a few months back, he would’ve just made some lewd remark about sex or whatnot, but now. Now the truth is right in front of you. He searched the depths of her eyes as she waited for an answer. She was patient, and he liked that.

“For as long as you want. Just say yes Grace, say yes to me.”

They were close now, so close she could feel his breath caressing her face, so close she could hear his heart.

“Marc, looked, I don’t know about this I don’t know if I can tru...”

Her voice faded away into the night, her words forgotten as her heart and mind was swarmed with the warm sensation of Marc’s close proximity. And so naturally his lips met hers. It was a tentative caress at first, his tongue cautiously swiping at her lips and his arms wrapping tighter around her body. And then almost wildly, like a starved man, he plundered the depths of her mouth as her lips fell opened.

“Say yes.” He whispered, moving his mouth to press soft kisses over her arched neck. She drew in a shocked breath and Marc smiled into her skin, satisfied with the reaction.

“Say yes, Grace. Please.”

And with a delicate tremble breathe she gasped.

“Yes.”