13 January 2013
Walking into a packed lecture theatre ten minutes late was not my idea of fun and by Marshall's body language I sensed it was last on his list of things he wanted to do today. The lecturer was pointing at an unknown diagram and explaining something that sounded terribly important, so every face in the room was staring directly at the front of the hall as Marshall and I entered together. A wave of whispers rippled through the crowd and a hundred pairs of eyes followed us as we trudged up the stairs.
Emma, my flatmate from halls of residence waved at me, indicating she had saved a space next to her. There were two seats free, so I pulled on Marshall's arm, ushering him in to the seat next to me. Emma gave me an odd look.
"Erm," she whispered, "who's that?"
"This is Marshall," I smiled, but she didn't smile back.
"Yeah...why is he sitting next to you?" Emma was staring at Marshall, who squirmed a little under her gaze. I put my hand on his thigh beneath the table.
"He's my friend Em," I scowled, upset that she was being so obvious in her disapproval. She opened her mouth to say something else, but thought better of it and turned her focus back on to the lecture. Marshall's hand rested on mine, our fingers interlacing, my pulse quickening at his affectionate touch.
I heard someone behind us whisper "freak" and a wave of stifled giggles echoed through the quiet auditorium. Marshall dropped his head, his eyes sad. I made a deliberate show of cuddling up to him, easing his arm around my shoulder. He gave me a half-smile, his fingers playing with a stray strand of my hair as I leant my head into the crook of his neck. We had only just met but I felt a deep and irrational desire to protect him, to make him realise that it didn't matter what people said because I liked him just the way he was. I thought he was pretty much perfect. The chemistry between us was obvious and the couple of hours we'd spent together had already convinced me that Marshall was someone I could really get to like. A lot.
I did't really remember much of the lecture; all I could think about was how Marshall's fingers would occasionally brush my neck and how his thigh felt leaning against mine and the smell of his aftershave. As we filed out of the lecture theatre Emma pulled me to one side, a little way away from Marshall.
"What are you doing this evening?" Emma said excitedly, "Because we have been invited to a party by those boys in 23b and you know I've been dying for a reason to talk to Liam."
"Oh Em, I'm sorry," I replied, "but I have plans."
"With him?" Emma spat, "what the hell are you hanging around with him for?"
"He's nice," I frowned, "you don't even know him."
"He's weird," Emma shrugged, "and you know...you could do a lot better. Like Craig from 23b, he totally has a thing for you."
"Craig is an idiot," I shook my head - I was starting to get irritated by Emma's attitude. Marshall was loitering awkwardly a few feet away, pretending to play with his phone. "I'm going on a date with Marshall tonight. Em he's smart, funny, kind...I really like him."
"Are you serious?" Emma looked disgusted. "He's...well, you know."
"No," I said angrily, although I knew exactly what she meant, "I don't know. Why don't you tell me what is so wrong with him?"
"Well...he...has those...scars," she blushed, unable to find a tactful way of saying what she really meant; that she thought he was ugly.
"You're so shallow," I snarled. I turned and walked away, angry that my supposed friend had turned out to be just as shallow as the rest of them. I made my way over to Marshall who was skilfully rolling a cigarette between his deft fingers.
"Are you alright?" He said, popping the cig into the corner of his mouth.
"Yes," I said, my lip trembling as I fought back hot, angry tears. We walked outside into the chilly late-afternoon air and I fumbled in my pockets for a cig. When I finally found the pack it was disappointingly empty. I groaned, my emotions swirling. The joy and warmth I had felt in Marshall's arms was tainted by Emma's reaction.
"You don't look ok," Marshall frowned and took the cig out of his mouth before slipping it between my lips and lighting it for me with a battered zippo. I smiled around the cig at his simple act of kindness.
"It's just my friend Emma," I sighed, leaning against the cold brickwork, "we had a disagreement."
"About me?" Marshall didn't look at me; he busied himself with rolling another smoke.
"Kind of," I said, not wanting to hurt his feelings, "she was just pissed that I wouldn't go with her to some dumb party tonight."
"And because you were going out with a weirdo instead?" He grinned, lighting his own cig and leaning next to me.
"You're not a weirdo," I smiled, letting my head rest on his shoulder.
"Yeah, I am. But it's alright," he blew a cloud of smoke into the descending dusk. "Look, I like you, I really do. But I don't want to cause you problems and I certainly don't want you to be with me because you feel sorry for me or out of some misguided sense of injustice on my part." He turned to me, his grey eyes intense, his fingers caressing my cheek. "You're pretty and God knows I'm not - you could do better than me. I draw the wrong kind of attention...I don't want you to have to put up with the staring and the verbal abuse. I'm...I'm not worth it." I tried to interrupt, but he put his hand up to stop me. "I'm socially awkward, difficult to get along with and kind of a loser. I'm just no good for you," he finished with a flourish, sucking on his cig.
I threw my extinguished butt against the floor, sending a stream of sparks scattering across the slabs. I wrapped one arm around his neck and scissored his cig from his mouth. Leaning forward I let my lips lightly brush his, teasing his with the promise of a kiss. Marshall pushed me gently against the wall, his lips suddenly on mine. His confidence was growing with every flirtatious look I threw him and every suggestive touch.
"If it's ok with you," I said, my lips inches from his, "I'll take all that under advisement...but I'd like to find out for myself. If you still want to take me out tonight?"
"I can't think of anything I want more," he smiled.
Scars - Part Five • Opuss № I