8 January 2013
I quickly got up from the table, my chair squealing against the sticky cafeteria floor. I had to go after him; I couldn't let Marshall walk away thinking that I was trying to hurt him. It was too cruel. Although it seemed any chance of going on a date with him had been completely ruined.
I charged outside, the cold autumn air a shock to my system after the warmth of the bustling canteen, and looked around for Marshall's slim figure. There was the usual crowd of students hanging around the entrance to the library and a steady stream filtering in and out of the students union, but Marshall was nowhere to be seen.
I sighed; I was both angry and upset with myself for letting this happen. I hadn't had a date for a while and I was beginning to think maybe it was me. I did have a tendency to put my foot right in my big mouth. Frustrated, I reached for a cigarette, my lighter struggling to spark in the damp air. I was supposed to be quitting but right now I really needed the reassuring feeling of a cig between my fingers. I realised, after about thirty seconds, that I was smoking right under a large, gaudy 'no smoking' sign, and the disapproving looks I was receiving from other students said that I wasn't going to be let off. I grimaced and trudged away towards the distant smoking area - most of the university campus was designated as 'no smoking' these days.
As I approached the empty benches of the smoking area I noticed a lone figure perched on a table. His back was turned, but it was definitely Marshall; I'd recognise that silhouette anywhere. I swallowed hard and steeled myself - I half expected him to shout at me.
"Erm, Marshall?" I said, my voice tiny. I pulled hard on my cig as he turned to face me. His cheeks were stained with the tracks of tears and his grey eyes were glassy. He quickly wiped his cheeks with his sleeve, but his bottom lip was still trembling.
"What?" He spat, a neglected cig hanging between his long fingers. Little drops of moisture from the damp air hung in his dishevelled hair like tiny diamonds caught in a spider-web. I was struck by just how unconventionally handsome he looked, with his sad, slate eyes, thick, soft lips and defined cheekbones. I wanted to kiss him, right there in the smoking area, but I pushed the thought aside.
"I wasn't trying to hurt you," I exclaimed quickly, feeling my own lip quiver a little, "and I wasn't joking. I promise. Please, believe me, it wasn't my intention to make fun or to upset you."
Marshall stared at me intently, still unsure what to believe. After a long silence he sighed, throwing his spent cig down in a flutter of ash and embers.
"I'm sorry," he said finally, jumping down from the table. "I think maybe I overreacted. I'm just used to people being rude to me. I'm sorry I misjudged you."
"Can we start again?" I smiled hopefully.
"Yes," he nodded, "but only if you'll let me buy you a coffee."
"Deal," I replied, my hopeful smile blossoming into a fully-fledged grin.
Scars - Part Three • Opuss № I