Face-Off at the Altar
Page 45
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“Because they told me to choose you or them, and I chose you,” he said simply, and her eyes widened.
He knew she hadn’t forgotten that night. Hell, he would never forget it. How his parents had looked at her like she was filth off the street. All because she wasn’t African American like they were. He didn’t see color; he saw a beautiful girl, and he thought his parents would see the same. But apparently, they didn’t. He hadn’t wanted to fight with them, and he sure as hell didn’t want to lose contact with them, but he refused to allow them to treat Mekena how they did. They were rude and disrespectful, calling her “that damn white girl” instead of her name. They wanted their son to marry a nice black girl from church, which wouldn’t have been a problem if there was one there who made his heart palpitate like it did when he was around Mekena. Like it was at the moment. That hard pound that felt as if his heart was going to come straight out of his chest. Breaking ribs, ripping skin, only to flop there on the table. No one made him feel like that.
But his parents didn’t care.
When they left that night after dinner with his parents, Mekena was in tears and Markus was embarrassed. He promised never to subject her to that again, and when his mother called, saying she didn’t want him bringing Mekena back, he said that was fine because he wouldn’t be coming back either. But days later, the shit with Skylar happened, and then he found himself without his parents or Mekena.
With a bewildered expression on her face, she said, “But we aren’t together.”
“So?”
“So you should reach out to them.”
“But I won’t. ’Cause if they can’t accept who I date, then I want nothing to do with them.”
“That’s insane,” she said, standing up and slamming her chair in. “You’re insane. And…yeah…” she said, turning on her heel and rushing out of the place. He knew he should stay, he should give her some space, but he couldn’t. He got up, following her outside where she was standing, looking at the sky.
Glaring back at him, she spat, “Why are you following me?”
“I want to make sure you get back to the cabin okay.”
“Maybe I wanted to get some air.”
“Then I want to make sure no one hurts you.”
Shaking her head, she struck her hips. “Why? ’Cause that’s your job?”
“Mekena—”
“I don’t matter to you.”
“That’s not true,” he tried, but she threw her hands up, stomping away. Down the trail she went and he followed, only a few feet behind her.
Looking back at him, she grumbled. “I’m fine.”
“You may very well be, but I want to make sure.”
She was wobbling, obviously a little drunk, which was probably why she was actually speaking to him. “I can’t believe you aren’t talking to your parents because of me.”
“I can’t believe they treated you like shit.”
Whipping around, she pointed at him. “If that matters, then why—” She stopped and shook her head. “No, I can’t talk about that!”
“Okay?” he asked, confused.
And she wasn’t done. Throwing her hands up once more, her little nose wrinkled as she yelled, “Did you sing that song for me?”
He smiled. “Did I mean to? No, but then it was there—for you.”
“Are you crazy? Do you know how crazy that is? You shouldn’t have a chance with me!”
She whirled around with the force of a tsunami before he could say anything—or point out that she said shouldn’t instead of don’t, which he counted as a win. But before he could mention that, she was on the ground. Face first. He didn’t even see how she fell, but when he reached her, she was crying out, holding her ankle. Dropping to his knees, he tried to help, but she smacked him away, rubbing her ankle. “I’m fine. I just twisted it,” she bit out, trying to hold back her tears. “Just go away.”
“I can’t.”
She moaned loudly and then tried to get up, but she couldn’t manage it. Even though he knew she was going to fight him, he picked her up with ease, and her arms came around his neck. “I’m fine.”
“I know, but let me carry you back.”
“I don’t need you.”
“I know.”
Holding her, he started back to their cabin as her head rested against her arms, but still, she was so close he almost couldn’t stand it. Her arms were warm, her hair tickled his face, and she was so light. So little. He wanted to feed her.
When the cabin came into view, he wanted to take a detour. Get lost in the woods. But he knew that wouldn’t go over well. Plus, he had a really bad sense of direction, and if he got lost in the woods, good chance they’d both die.
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
He felt her staring at him, but he knew if he looked at her, he wouldn’t be able to keep himself from pressing his mouth to hers. “Because I want to.”
“But I’m mean to you.”
“Eh, not mean, just hostile,” he said, flashing her a grin before reaching for the knob and opening the door. “With good reason, though.” Pushing the door open, he entered, looking around for the light. “Do you want me to put you in your room or on the couch?”
“Couch.”
He slowly laid her down before grabbing a pillow to put under her ankle. “Let me get you some ice.” She didn’t say anything as he got an ice pack out of the freezer and a washrag from the drawer then came back and laid it on her ankle. Taking off her shoes, he set them beside the couch before looking back at her to make sure she was okay. Her face was covered in dirt from her fall, so he wiped it off, fully expecting her to stop him, but she didn’t. She just watched him, her eyes glazed over, and he knew she was drunker than they both realized. When her face was clean, he noticed she was lying funny because of the pillows behind her, so he stood back up, reaching behind her to help her out, but somehow their faces lined up and he was stunned in place. One little movement and their mouths would touch. That’s all it would take.
Breathless, he said, “Oh, sorry—”
But before he could move, she whispered, “Markus.”
He could smell the whiskey on her breath, knew this wasn’t supposed to happen, but then she was moving and he couldn’t stop her. He didn’t have the willpower. Next thing he knew, her lips pressed to his—softly, God, so softly that his eyes fell shut as his body went hot and tight. She felt so damn good. Digging his fingers into the couch, he stayed as still as he could because if he moved, he wouldn’t stop. When her tongue came out, running along his bottom lip, he pulled away, shaking his head.
He knew she hadn’t forgotten that night. Hell, he would never forget it. How his parents had looked at her like she was filth off the street. All because she wasn’t African American like they were. He didn’t see color; he saw a beautiful girl, and he thought his parents would see the same. But apparently, they didn’t. He hadn’t wanted to fight with them, and he sure as hell didn’t want to lose contact with them, but he refused to allow them to treat Mekena how they did. They were rude and disrespectful, calling her “that damn white girl” instead of her name. They wanted their son to marry a nice black girl from church, which wouldn’t have been a problem if there was one there who made his heart palpitate like it did when he was around Mekena. Like it was at the moment. That hard pound that felt as if his heart was going to come straight out of his chest. Breaking ribs, ripping skin, only to flop there on the table. No one made him feel like that.
But his parents didn’t care.
When they left that night after dinner with his parents, Mekena was in tears and Markus was embarrassed. He promised never to subject her to that again, and when his mother called, saying she didn’t want him bringing Mekena back, he said that was fine because he wouldn’t be coming back either. But days later, the shit with Skylar happened, and then he found himself without his parents or Mekena.
With a bewildered expression on her face, she said, “But we aren’t together.”
“So?”
“So you should reach out to them.”
“But I won’t. ’Cause if they can’t accept who I date, then I want nothing to do with them.”
“That’s insane,” she said, standing up and slamming her chair in. “You’re insane. And…yeah…” she said, turning on her heel and rushing out of the place. He knew he should stay, he should give her some space, but he couldn’t. He got up, following her outside where she was standing, looking at the sky.
Glaring back at him, she spat, “Why are you following me?”
“I want to make sure you get back to the cabin okay.”
“Maybe I wanted to get some air.”
“Then I want to make sure no one hurts you.”
Shaking her head, she struck her hips. “Why? ’Cause that’s your job?”
“Mekena—”
“I don’t matter to you.”
“That’s not true,” he tried, but she threw her hands up, stomping away. Down the trail she went and he followed, only a few feet behind her.
Looking back at him, she grumbled. “I’m fine.”
“You may very well be, but I want to make sure.”
She was wobbling, obviously a little drunk, which was probably why she was actually speaking to him. “I can’t believe you aren’t talking to your parents because of me.”
“I can’t believe they treated you like shit.”
Whipping around, she pointed at him. “If that matters, then why—” She stopped and shook her head. “No, I can’t talk about that!”
“Okay?” he asked, confused.
And she wasn’t done. Throwing her hands up once more, her little nose wrinkled as she yelled, “Did you sing that song for me?”
He smiled. “Did I mean to? No, but then it was there—for you.”
“Are you crazy? Do you know how crazy that is? You shouldn’t have a chance with me!”
She whirled around with the force of a tsunami before he could say anything—or point out that she said shouldn’t instead of don’t, which he counted as a win. But before he could mention that, she was on the ground. Face first. He didn’t even see how she fell, but when he reached her, she was crying out, holding her ankle. Dropping to his knees, he tried to help, but she smacked him away, rubbing her ankle. “I’m fine. I just twisted it,” she bit out, trying to hold back her tears. “Just go away.”
“I can’t.”
She moaned loudly and then tried to get up, but she couldn’t manage it. Even though he knew she was going to fight him, he picked her up with ease, and her arms came around his neck. “I’m fine.”
“I know, but let me carry you back.”
“I don’t need you.”
“I know.”
Holding her, he started back to their cabin as her head rested against her arms, but still, she was so close he almost couldn’t stand it. Her arms were warm, her hair tickled his face, and she was so light. So little. He wanted to feed her.
When the cabin came into view, he wanted to take a detour. Get lost in the woods. But he knew that wouldn’t go over well. Plus, he had a really bad sense of direction, and if he got lost in the woods, good chance they’d both die.
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
He felt her staring at him, but he knew if he looked at her, he wouldn’t be able to keep himself from pressing his mouth to hers. “Because I want to.”
“But I’m mean to you.”
“Eh, not mean, just hostile,” he said, flashing her a grin before reaching for the knob and opening the door. “With good reason, though.” Pushing the door open, he entered, looking around for the light. “Do you want me to put you in your room or on the couch?”
“Couch.”
He slowly laid her down before grabbing a pillow to put under her ankle. “Let me get you some ice.” She didn’t say anything as he got an ice pack out of the freezer and a washrag from the drawer then came back and laid it on her ankle. Taking off her shoes, he set them beside the couch before looking back at her to make sure she was okay. Her face was covered in dirt from her fall, so he wiped it off, fully expecting her to stop him, but she didn’t. She just watched him, her eyes glazed over, and he knew she was drunker than they both realized. When her face was clean, he noticed she was lying funny because of the pillows behind her, so he stood back up, reaching behind her to help her out, but somehow their faces lined up and he was stunned in place. One little movement and their mouths would touch. That’s all it would take.
Breathless, he said, “Oh, sorry—”
But before he could move, she whispered, “Markus.”
He could smell the whiskey on her breath, knew this wasn’t supposed to happen, but then she was moving and he couldn’t stop her. He didn’t have the willpower. Next thing he knew, her lips pressed to his—softly, God, so softly that his eyes fell shut as his body went hot and tight. She felt so damn good. Digging his fingers into the couch, he stayed as still as he could because if he moved, he wouldn’t stop. When her tongue came out, running along his bottom lip, he pulled away, shaking his head.
