I sigh a bit. The last couple of months with them have been unusually difficult, and honestly, I was solidly on the hope that Qi would just write the two fuckers off. I mean, I get the years of friendship, butI’d always felt it was so one-sided. But after everything that happened a few months ago and watching them all reevaluate themselves and their friendship, I think I’m finally seeing how important it is toallof them, which has me very grudgingly appreciating what they have a bit more.
“Sometimes they take it too far. Several months ago, there was a huge blowout because they had ignored Qi’s repeated statements that he wasn’t interested in a girl they were trying to hook him up with. Next thing he knows, he’s standing on a stage, being auctioned off like a prize cow, and if Tristan hadn’t stepped in, he would’ve been sold to the girl Qi had adamantly said he wanted nothing to do with.
“Obviously, everything worked out okay, but that was still a careless thing to do, not to mention completely invalidating, because they ignored everything he’d been telling them by doing the auction. When I pointed it out to scold them, Qi decided to use the moment to come out, which floored them, since he’d known for almost a year before he finally told them.
“It turned into this huge thing that led to a timeout in their friendship, and they all did a little soul-seeking. And they’re making more of an effort than I ever credited them with bothering to make. But Qi must have known all along they had the potential. It’s the only reason I can fathom for him putting up with them for this long,” I explain a bit.
Marcus is quiet for a moment as though he’s taking it in before he looks at me. “I remember Tristan talking about how angry he was when it happened, and how pissed he was at how obvious Qi’s discomfort was through that whole thing. It must have been hard for them all to set aside their biases long enough to learn from it. It’s amazing the potential people can show when we give them a chance,” he points out, and with the way he’s looking at me, I have a feeling he’s not just talking about them anymore.
I don’t really know how to respond to that, so I just give him an upnod in response before Darryl distracts us by announcing the final movie choices of the night. Everyone quickly settles in to watch thefirst one, and it’s one of those iconic movie scenes where the lights go down, and there’s an immediate electric charge that amps up in the air.
I don’t even know what’s on. I’m not paying a damn bit of attention to it. I’m too busy running a constant conversation between my head and my heart, and feeling Marcus’s eyes on me more than the movie is not helping.
He’s close enough to touch, close enough to where I can feel him breathe. It has the hair on my arms rising, my heart pumping, and my throat dry. The urge to reach out and touch him is overwhelming. I don’t think I’ve ever welcomed the end of a movie and the lights being turned back on more than I do right now, because the chances of making a mistake were increasing exponentially with every passing minute. This is going to be alongnight.
“I volunteer Marcus and Qiang as tribute,” Darryl says, and it jars me back to everyone else in the room.
Before I can ask what they’re talking about, Marcus is getting up. “Are you gonna help or leave me to fend for myself?” he asks with amusement when he notices I haven’t moved yet.
I look around at everyone, trying to figure out what conversation I missed while I was busy processing the effect Marcus has on me. This is becoming a problem. One that needs to be addressed and figured out. There must be an antidote out there to cure oneself of a completely ridiculous crush.
Qi frowns and leans in towards me. “Do you want me to go instead?” he asks with a tone laced with concern.
I huff out a breath, because no, I’m fine. Whatever it is, I’m sure I can manage it. I stand up, and Marcus shoots me a smirk before heading out of the room. I follow Marcus up to the kitchen and realize we were volunteered to restock the snacks.
Marcus throws a bag of popcorn in the microwave and points towards the fridge. “Flavored water and soda are in there,” he says, and I turn towards it and start pulling drinks out haphazardly.
Silence takes over again once I get the drinks piled on the counter while we wait for the popcorn to finish. There’s a sense of nervousnessbecause I think this is the first time we’ve ever really been alone, even though we aren’tactuallyall that alone. And I really want to kick myself because I still can’t seem to get him tucked into that firm corner of no.
For a moment, we just stand there and wait for the popcorn to finish. The light from the microwave illuminates his face in a way that highlights his cheekbones, but casts a shadow over his eyes so that, except for the tiniest pinprick of light that is beaming from them, I can’t make them out.
I should probably look away; while the light is half-hiding his face, it’s most likely illuminating mine, and the way I'm inappropriately staring at him. His lips curl into a smirk right before I can look away, and I know I've been caught.
"Hold on, you've got something just here on your cheek," he says, slowly reaching his hand up.
The moment his thumb touches my skin, a charge surges through every inch of my body. My stomach breaks out into a horde of butterflies, and my tongue glues itself to the roof of my mouth. It takes everything I have to let out a steady breath without alerting him to how much he affects me.
He drags his thumb across my cheekbone, and that deep thu-thump hits with an almost exaggerated echo in my ears. His lips dip with concern as his thumb traces a circle on my cheek, making my heart stutter and blood rush past my ears.
"Wait. It's not coming off," he murmurs, his eyes moving from staring intently into mine to whatever spot he’s trying to get rid of as he steps even deeper into my space.
He’s close enough now that I have to tip my head up to see his face. He’s looking down at me with an intensity that I can feel in my gut, and I swallow a lump down my throat to try and disperse the excess energy running through me. "What is it?"
Marcus leans in and whispers, "Beauty," before pulling back up with a cheesy grin.
"Oh my god, you are ridiculous," I groan while slapping his shoulder.
The flirty line was just corny enough to lighten whatever was crackling between us and dispel the intense energy coursing through me.
He just laughs at that while I roll my eyes. "It’s just the makeup.”
I don't know why I even said that, because I know I look good without it, too, but the heat in my cheeks and the near-Herculean effort it’s taking to keep a smile from spreading across my face right now have me wanting to downplay it a bit.
Marcus's eyes grow serious as he takes me in. "It's not the makeup. It's you. I've never seen you without makeup, but I have no doubt you're just as pretty without it as you are with it."
My heart fucking blooms at that, which amps up my desire to downplay his words. "Hate to burst your bubble, but if that’s the case, then what would the point of the makeup be?"
"Pretty sure makeup is more than just making a person pretty, or being necessary for that specific end. Also, pretty sure that as an influencer, you already know that and are just saying otherwise to either detract from the conversation, or to somehow trap me with words so you can villainize me," he points out, and there’s an uncomfortable spike that runs through me at that.
