I shut the door, but once it was closed, I leaned back against it—a little smile forcing its way up the side of
my face.
* * *
You’d think that in a bed the size of Miami, on a Tempur-Pedic mattress that probably cost more than my rent, I’d have no trouble falling asleep. But it was exactly the opposite. Whether it was the surreal festivities of the day, or the fact that no matter what I did, I tossed and turned for the better part of an hour. Maybe it was just that there was too much room. I kept rolling over, expecting to hit a wall or fall off the mattress or something—but there was always more space.
Screw luxurious. It was actually kind of lonely.
Creeping around by cell phone light, I slipped on a camisole and some pajama pants before wandering out cautiously into the hall. There wasn’t a sound in the house. Every light was off, and Marcus’ door was closed at the other end of the hall. I walked on my tiptoes down the stairs, smiling as I passed seven-year-old Marcus’ framed finger painting.
I made my way to the room where the party was held. I flipped on the lights and glanced around. Memories flashed through my mind. I could see Marcus and me dancing across the ballroom. I couldn’t stop the smile forming on my face.
Wow. I had come here for a party. I’d never imagined I would be temporarily living here in this big, beautiful mansion. I bet Snake Lady from the party would be pissed I wormed my way into Marcus’s house. I pondered. I wondered how things would’ve played out if I hadn’t made the comment I was Marcus’s girlfriend. I thought about it. I didn’t think I would’ve met Marcus. He might’ve shaken my hand as I left. I would’ve never known him the way I do now. Snake Lady brought us together. I bet she would be gritting her teeth knowing that. If Marcus and I stayed friends, I would have to thank her personally. I shut off the lights and left.
It was like wandering through a ghost town. The rooms were too big for one man to live here alone and too empty to pretend to enjoy the space. I hugged the walls, gazing cautiously out at the wide open floors, afraid to be caught in the random slices of moonlight.
But the house was fast asleep.
My bare feet made no sound on the cold marble floors, and before I knew it, I had reached the kitchen. A belated flush painted my cheeks as I remembered the last time I was here—trying desperately to break through the impenetrable wall of caterers and run to freedom before Marcus found me and uncovered my lie.
At least this visit was sanctioned, I thought to myself as I pulled out a jar of peanut butter and dropped some bread into the toaster. No nasty surprises this time.
“Hey.”
The soft voice in the darkness made me shriek and drop my butter knife. I squinted into the shadows, but could see nothing.
“Marcus?” I called tentatively. But the voice was raspy and unrecognizable. The first and final warning of a disgruntled security guard, no doubt. “Listen, I’m staying here as a guest. I’m allowed to be here, just ask the owner of this house. I was told I could come down here and get anything I wanted.”
A familiar chuckle silenced me as the lights flashed on. I was about to reprimand him, but Marcus looked as disarming and adorable as I’d ever seen him. He was in boxers, for one thing, boxers and a white tee-shirt. Half his hair was standing on end while the other half was pointed straight toward the wall. Like a puppy dog cocking its ear.
“I know you were recently displaced, but that doesn’t mean you have to resort to looting,” he chided with a smile.
“Nice hair,” I replied.
The smile faded slightly as he patted it down with a rueful hand. “Couldn’t sleep?” he recovered, gesturing at the toast.
“I think the bed’s too big for me,” I laughed, “I keep doing somersaults.”
He flashed me a peculiar grin and took the peanut butter from my hands, popping the stubborn lid effortlessly before handing it back.
“Thanks,” I said, suddenly feeling a little awkward. We were definitely off-book here. Off-book and unscripted. Without an event or catastrophe or camera, I honestly didn’t know what came next. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“Not at all.” He ran a hand again through his messy hair. “I couldn’t sleep either. I was just coming down to make some cider when I saw you skulking around like the KGB.”
“I always thought I’d make a great spy.” I visibly brightened at the thought, and he chuckled. “Tell you what; you make the cider, I’ll make the sandwiches.”
He looked at me curiously. “And then?”
I glanced up hopefully. “Movie fest? I’m sure you have a home theater in here somewhere.”
“You want peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and a movie fest?” His eyes sparkled excitedly. “That’s my kind of girl. Where have you been all my life?”
I laughed. “I’ll make the sandwiches, and you get the drinks. It’s a fake date! Which way is the theater anyway?”
A pair of warm arms circled suddenly around my waist, and I sucked in a quick breath as he spun me around. I could feel the electricity surging where he touched me. There was nothing in between us. No cameras, no barriers, no space. We were pressed up against each other, staring into each other’s eyes, our faces just inches away.
The toast popped loudly behind us, and I jumped. Marcus, however, stayed perfectly still raising a single hand up in between us.