texaswildfire

I didn't sleep last night at all.
I sat up looking at dresses online.
I hated them all.
They were all too sparkly.
Too much like a wedding dress.
Too pink.
Too short.
Too slutty.
I looked for shoes.
Hated them.
Looked at hairstyles.
Hated them too.
If I didn't like my laptop much, I would have killed it.
I shall see if mom will take me to the mall.
Le Orange should have some cool dresses.

I sleep in the new sunlight.
Bask in it.
I feel like a fat, sleepy, lazy cat.
Mom brings me brunch.
I eat it slow, as if it's a luxury.
Strawberries. Pancakes with too much butter. Scrambled eggs.
The tastes are vibrant today.
Summer looms.
So does prom.
So does my life.

Jeans and a green Gumby t-shirt make up my outfit.
I need to get out before Seth and Jonah come home.
So, I go to one place I know I'm wanted; Marc's

"My dear, Rosemary, it's lovely to see you," his mother gushes when she answers the door. "My son has been speaking so nicely of you these past few weeks, such an oddity to me since, before now, I was sure he was more interested in someone else. If you have come looking for him, Jean-Marco is in his bedroom, more than likely still sleeping."

She gave him a solid French name.
I wonder if I should call him that as she leads me to his room.
She knocks.
He doesn't answer.

"Do not be disappointed. I am sure that he will be much more willing to wake if you do the honors," she tells me sweetly in her own cooing, smooth accent. "I shall be downstairs continuing to read if you need my assistance with anything. Or, you could fetch Allison. She should be in her own room."

"Thank you," my voice comes soft, nice but meek and a bit shy.

I wait until she's started down the stairs to turn the knob on Marc's door.
Jean-Marco was indeed asleep.
Shirtless, tangled in rich burgundy sheets, cuddled to a pillow.
He's lucky. He slept.
I try to play it cool.
I sit at his desk chair, feet up on his desk.

"You know I didn't sleep," I test him. He slightly stirs, gripping his pillow tighter to his body. "I concerned myself with finding a dress that apparently doesn't exist in the world outside my imagination. And, here you are; dead asleep without a care in the world."

"I have one," he groans, not bothering to move.

"Which is...? I swear, sometimes, it seems so much more easy to be a boy than it is to be a girl," I sigh. "All you have to worry about is a suit."

"And keeping you happy without overstepping boundaries is so easy," Marc says, finally pushing himself up, his arms wrapping around the pillow to cover his chest. "Actually, you're right. You overthink. You girls do that too much. Just pick a dress. Buy some shoes. It's not your wedding day; it's prom."

His casual tone doesn't affect me.
Much.
His body has a bigger one on me.
I have seen him shirtless.
Just not shirtless in underwear.
Not boxers. Briefs. Black ones.
He doesn't hide himself as he searches for fresh jeans in his closet.
My eyes fall to my lap before he can catch me looking.

"I know the idea seems simple enough for some but I never even gave any kind of thought about going until last night. Perhaps I should have kept that attitude, it would make things easier," I say, mostly to myself. "Does it bother you that I woke you up?"

"No," he says as he struggles with his stiff jeans. "I was just hoping you'd wake me up in a different way if you happened over. Dreaming of it is more like it. Why are you here anyway? Are Seth and Jonah back already?"

"Not that I am aware of. Could be by now. I just really didn't want to be around when they made their appearance," I so willingly confess. "I was hoping to find refuge in your room for a while, even if you aren't here with me."

"First off, I'd never be dumb enough to leave you alone in a room where I am hiding so many embarrassing things and secondly, you are welcome here anytime you know I'm home," Marc tells me as he goes in search for a t-shirt. "I am sure my mother would prefer me to keep your company over any other girl's. She's known your mother forever. She knows you aren't a threat but, instead, probably sees you as an asset."

An asset?
My eyes study the thread in the hem of my t-shirt carefully to keep me distracted.
Marc messes his hair with his left hand.
He finds all his bracelets and slides them on his wrist.
He asks me to stay put while he brushes his teeth.
And I do, quite easily.
I keep myself amused by studying the contrast between my pale skin and the green shirt.
He takes his time.
I wait. And wait. And wait.
Seems like forever before he comes back into the room.

"My mother has informed me that she is off to lunch with your mother," he says, shutting his bedroom door. "Allison is going with them. She invited us along but I declined for both of us. Sunday's, no matter how nice, should be spent getting ready for the next school day."

"You have a bigger day tomorrow than I do. You still have to manage to decide your replacement. Don't worry. I am still set against tossing my hat into the ring for such a job," I tell him. "Having that much responsibility would kill me most likely. I don't do well under pressure."

"Oddly, I am quite aware of that," Marc laughs. "We have an entire house to ourselves and I have free range to play around online. Why don't we look for a dress? I am sure that, with my help, you can find something that you like."

"I was hoping to go to Le Orange sometime within the next week because they have pretty dresses that are a bit more edgy," I say to him, finally standing from the desk chair so my hands can explore the pockets of my jeans freely. "I guess I am just not used to the idea of shopping for such an event. Should I want it to be very formal? Should it fit in?"

"It should be a balance of your personal style and elegance," he simply says. "But, if you are wanting to go to Le Orange, I am more than willing to find, put on and lace up my shoes to take you to browse. Sundays are good for that, too."

I nod.
He puts on his shoes.
And we go.
Marc looks at dresses with me.
Lovely ones.
Orange. Green. Pink. Blue. Black. White. Red.
Sparkles. Rhinestones. Pearls.
Satin. Lace. Silk.
They're all lovely. And expensive.

But there is one.
It catches my eye.
And Marc's.
It's long. Silky. Slinky black with lime green trim.
Bold enough to make a statement.
Understated enough to not cause a scene.
The pricetag inspires a small panic attack.
$650.

"Do all prom dresses cost this much," Marc whispers, his voice suffering from the same sticker shock my heart's in.

"No. They are considerably cheaper but I am not sure about their quality," I tell him. "It's a lot. All I know is that I am not going to spend that much on a prom dress. Maybe a wedding dress when the time comes but...not this. I should just look in my mother's closet. She's got a million dresses."

We leave the store.
He's relieved.
I'm semi-heartbroken.
I liked that dress.
I wonder if my mom's will even fit me.
They had to.

We get back.
My dad's car is in the driveway.
I can hear Seth and Jonah inside the house.
Marc is nice enough to let me retreat with him back to his room.

We remove our shoes.
This is when he decides he likes the way I smell.
He stands behind me to breathe the scent of my hair in.
Deep.
It makes me shiver when he slides the hair away from my neck.
I get nervous when his lips skim the delicate skin on the back of my neck.

"I wish summer would get here quicker. School days seem to linger hopelessly when we are all looking forward to something amazing," he whispers, his breath rolling up the base of my spine.

"I'm hardly amazing," I say, immediately catching my own vanity in thinking he's talking about me.

"Count yourself lucky that I am not one to push you, and myself, into a situation that we have no business being in," he says as he traces a finger along the ringed collar of my t-shirt. "What is it that you like about me, Rose? You know what I appreciate about you. A quick reminder, if you need one; your hair, your smile, your hands, your lips, your brain."

"I like all those things about you," I barely choke out. "It doesn't hurt that you're tall, have great muscles and the deepest, sweetest voice I have heard so close to my ear."

He smiles against the rim of my ear.
Shock flows through me like wildfire.
Not at his smile, at his teeth when they playfully clamp down on the cartilage.
He whispers two words against my neck.
"Like this?"
And I melt.
Liquid.
Beyond that.
Vapor now.

Marc decides not to tease me more so.
In that way, anyway.
He drops on to his bed and invites me to lay with him.
I do.
Curled up to his side while he strokes my hair.

We stay like this for a long while.
So long we fall asleep.
We breathe at the same time.
Our hearts beat sync again.
I'm at peace.
So is he.
So is the all the rest of the world.
That is until we wake.
Until I go home to Seth and Jonah.
Until...I miss him.