And maybe I’ll feel actually normal around you,I want to add.
Marlon just holds my stare, saying nothing. A few seconds pass, longer than what I’m comfortable with, so I break his gaze, my neck growing warm.
Maybe I was wrong. What if he won’t agree to continue with this? What if he laughs in my face, calls me ridiculous and insane?
“Why now?” he asks. That’s all.
“What?”
“Why now? As you said, it’s been going on all our lives, so why now, when you could’ve thought of this, say a year ago. Or two years ago?”
A certain pair of green eyes flashes before my vision and I resist the urge to crawl under the table and scream. Of course I’llneed to tell Marlon about him. Of the stakes that’s been raised. With this ruse, all cards need to be out on the table.
I breathe deeply.
“Well, it’s always bothered me to the bone, don’t get me wrong,” I emphasise, “But I recently…met someone. Someone I like. And I can’t really pursue him if our Mums are still trying to matchmake us, or anyone else really. Both of us wouldn’t. I’m 18 now and I don’t want my first love to be overshadowed by who others think I should be with instead.”
The truth hangs between us, bait that he can easily snatch to tease me relentlessly with.
“I understand,” he murmurs after a beat. He leans forward, shoulders hunched over, and something about it is so hopelessly vulnerable that I’m seized with an urge to pat his hair, or something.
“I - just, with my ex, I’m sure you know. So I get it. And don’t worry, it frustrates me too how our Mums won’t leave us alone.”
I watch him carefully, looking for a loophole in his words, a feign of mischief, a glint of trouble in his eyes, but he’s sincere. I’d hardly ever seen this sincerity in him, at least when it came to me. The last time was probably when he accidentally knocked over my sandcastle when we were 8 years old, and he sat down with me for two hours to help me rebuild it.
Or the time I’d fallen asleep during one of our study sessions in Year 10, and I woke up to see he’d written out the answers for my worksheets.
It’s a rare sight, one that I’m not used to, but one I wish I could see more of.
I’m unsure of how to act with Marlon when he’s not being annoying, so I slap at his hand.
“Well, we’ve got this chance to change that, and if it works out,neveragain do we have to hear about our supposed planned-wedding from either of our families.”
He smirks, and the glint is back in his gaze.
“You’d be lucky to marry me, Garcia.”
I ignore everything that’s just come out of his mouth.
“So, that’s my proposition. Are you in?”
If we both want to get happy endings, then we need to destroy the one that our Mums have written for us.
Marlon holds my eyes and I wonder what’s going on in his head.
“Okay,” he says, and I sigh with relief, holding out my hand in a shake to secure our agreement. He doesn’t take it though. “I’ll agree, on one condition.”
I freeze. I should’ve anticipated that he’d want something a little more out of this. For his benefit. Silly of me to assume that getting rid of our faux-betrothal isn’t enough.
Tensely, I sit back, watching his expression.
“Okay, depends what it is…”
“I’ll agree to this ruse if you agree to, well…” Marlon’s smirk disappears and his shoulders dip inward as reaches up to scratch behind his ear. Is he nervous? “If you agree to help me, with, you know, being a romantic -don’tlaugh!”
My lips, on its own accord, had begun to twitch, tip toeing on an amused grin.
Marlon askingmefor romance advice?Me, the one with no experience, andhim, the one who’s had an actual relationship?
