Where Do Broken Hearts Go?

33. Blindfold

It's 7:35 PM and here I come walking on the tips of my toes, robbed of breath, and small beads of sweat on my forehead. With no time to change, I threw a knit cardigan over my black, bodycon dress. Using its sleeve, I tap away the obvious attempt of punctuality and spoil myself with a long, time-consuming breath. Yes, Susan. I know I'm out of shape.

Waiting for me in my driveway stands Marcel, arms locked across his Rolling Stones t-shirt as his back leans against his... truck? Curiosity takes my strides prisoner, slowing me down to take in the glistening, black vehicle. When did this happen?

As the space between Marcel and I shrinks, his arms unfold, preparing to empty my hand of my rollaway bag. I take this time to steal the hug I wanted earlier.

My accost comes as a lighthearted tease. "Haven't you had enough of me for one day?" 

As Marcel's arm snakes around my waist, I draw a breath, giving him room for a tighter constriction. Sadly, the way Marcel is set up, he's a very gentle guy. The only pressure he applies is when his fingers catch my waist.

When I lose my grip on my bag, it nearly hits my leg. When I catch it, I also catch sight of my wedding ring. Being the klutz that I am, Marcel takes my bag before anything else happens. As I catch sight of his band, I pull my hand away to scratch my nose.

"You're a little overdressed, yeah?" Marcel's smile pushes me further into my guilt as he heads to the trunk.

Once my thoughts start to spin, they weigh. Even my mini dress calls me out, but not for long until I remember Marcel's question has yet to be answered. I'm not going to the Met Gala. My outfit isn't loud. I put on trainers to dress it down. Trainers? Oh God. I've been in London for too long. SNEAKERS! Not only didn't I have time for a wardrobe change, but I didn't have time to throw my hair into a ponytail. It will go up within the next 2 minutes.

"I was short on time. Where are we going?"

"Let this one be a surprise." He sits my suitcase in the trunk, then taps a button for it to close. "When necessary, I'm going to cover your eyes and make you wear headphones." 

I don't know man. The way it rolls off his tongue makes it sound like a form of bondage.

"I'm nervous."

"But also excited." He taps me under my chin then spins on the heels of his favorite Converses. "You'll see."

 Marcel opens my door, allowing me to be welcomed by the scent of the brand new truck. I was actually looking forward to a Tom Ford cologne, but I'm not complaining. 

Before I can strap in, he opens the door wider and steps closer to make sure the message resonates. "It'll be worth it." 

What Marcel? I know you're up to no good.

"Hmph."

"Mark my words." 

The setting sun possesses his cool-tone, green eyes while a soft beam sits on his handsome smile. Nearly crossing my legs, I catch myself by slowly dragging my sneaker along the mat. Realizing my faults, I revert back to my sassy ways, hoping to bring his.

"You're just going to whisk me off in the middle of the night?" In hopes of getting the pest away from me, my hand bounces off of Marcel's built chest.

A victorious smirk plays on his lips, undisturbed by our grown distance. 

Wait... wait... wait! Did I just get read and not realize it? Get back here and let me try again. 

Taking my loss, I fidget in the seat as he shuts my door. Dragging a breath to fill my frustrated cheeks, I menacingly watch the annoyance make his quest of the driver's seat.