by Noelle Adams
Marcus reacts quickly, trying to catch me before I collapse. He’s too far away and hampered by the storm door, but he ends up stepping inside and kneeling down beside me. He reaches for both my hands. “Jennifer.”
“Marcus,” I gasp. I’m not crying. I’m dazed. Choking on emotion. “Is this... real? Is this... what I think?”
His face twists slightly. “I don’t know what you think. I really don’t. I’ve tried to figure you out, and I thought we were getting closer, but you always pulled back when we got too close, so I kept telling myself you weren’t feeling what I am. But I’m feeling everything. Everything. I’ve never felt like this in my life. Like every breath I take and every glimmer of thought in my head and every move I make is all about you. It’s... it’s consuming me. It’s terrifying. I don’t know if I’ll ever be my old self again. I kept trying to keep it in perspective. Enjoy what you offered me. But it’s not enough. I need more. I need all of it. And I have no idea if you want to give it to me. I have no idea if you want all of it from me.”
I make an odd whimpering sound. My hands are still held in Marcus’s tight grasp or I’d use them to cover my face.
“So I don’t know what to do.” He goes on in a way I’ve never heard him before. “I have no idea. At all. I don’t know how to do this. I didn’t want to scare you away by blurting out that I’m crazy in love with you. But then somehow we were ending things, and it felt like it was going to kill me. So maybe it doesn’t matter if you’re not in the same place. I’ve got to get this said anyway.”
I’m biting my lower lip. I raise my eyes to meet his, losing my breath at the shattering blaze of feeling I see in his.
“I love you, Jennifer. It’s real love. I’ve never felt it before, but it has to be. You’re... you’re everything to me. I tried to play it safe. I tried to keep it casual. But it was a losing battle from the start. You’re the only person who’s ever known me for real, seen me as I really am. And I want to see all of you too. I want to be the way we were last night. I want to be that way with you forever.” His breath hitches, like he’s surprised himself. “Fuck, I know I’m a babbling mess, but I’ve been holding it in for too long. But that’s what I want to say. That’s the only way I know to close the deal.”
I make a little sobbing sound. I squeeze my eyes shut and shake.
“Jennifer?” He releases my hands and reaches over to pull me against him.
I collapse against his chest, sobbing without tears.
“Oh my God, what is happening here?” he mutters, tightening his arms around me.
“I love you too!” I burst out, my face still buried in his shirt.
“What? Wait, what?” He draws back, trying to see my face.
“I said I love you too.”
“You do?” He lifts my face with one hand. “For real?”
I nod and keep nodding. “For real. I love you too. I was waiting for you to close the deal because you said you would when you were ready. I thought you didn’t want me enough to...”
“I do want you. More than anything. I’ve just never done this before, and I really didn’t know how.”
“Well, you did okay. In the end, you did just fine.” I’m sniffing and shaking and reaching for him.
He groans and pulls me into another hug.
We stay like that for a few minutes—a messy tangle of limbs and emotion.
Then Marcus finally says, “Oh fuck, my knees.”
I giggle. “Yeah. This isn’t the most comfortable. Maybe we should move to the couch.”
We do move to the couch. Then we hug for a little while longer. Eventually he starts to kiss me, but they’re light little kisses over my mouth and face. I’m too emotional to focus on sex at the moment, and he seems to be in a similar state.
“You really didn’t know I felt the same way?” I ask him after a while. “I thought you could read my expressions so well.”
“I thought I could. And I kept seeing things that gave me hope. But you kept pulling away, and I really wasn’t sure if I was making up the hopeful signs because I wanted to see them so much.” His voice is fond, still slightly hoarse. It’s like a full-body caress.
“That’s exactly what was happening with me. I’d pick up deep feelings from you but then talk myself out of believing it. And since you never said you wanted more than sex, I had to assume you really didn’t.”
“I guess guys don’t always act the way I say they do.” There’s a soft chuckle in his words.
“Yes, they do,” I say. “You said if a guy really wanted a relationship, then he would make a real move. And you did. It just took you a little longer.”
“It took me too long, and I’m sorry about that. My only excuse is a woeful lack of experience in anything other than sex.”
“I don’t have much experience either. I think we were equally guilty of holding back. But we figured it out.”
He kisses my hair. “Yes. We figured it out.”
WE HANG OUT ON THE couch for a few hours, and I eventually find enough energy to go to the kitchen and scrounge up something for Marcus to eat since he admits he hasn’t eaten anything since last night.
We’re both drained and exhausted, and I don’t want Marcus to go home, so I ask him to spend the night, and he doesn’t have any objections.
He goes to take a shower while I crawl into bed. I text Beck as I lie there to let her know what’s happened, and then I lie on my back and smile up at the ceiling.
It’s still hard to comprehend, but I know it’s real.
Marcus loves me.
He wants a real relationship.
I don’t have to get over him or give him up.
When Marcus comes out of the bathroom, he smells like soap and water. He’s wearing nothing but his underwear. His body is warm and firm and familiar as he climbs under the covers and pulls me into his arms.
I cuddle up beside him. “When did you start thinking about me as something other than a little neighbor who’s good to laugh at?”
Marcus chuckles and nuzzles my hair. “I never thought about you like that.”
“Yes, you did. Don’t lie to me.”
“Okay. Maybe a little. But I always liked you. I thought you were so impressive. I’ve never known anyone who takes life so seriously. It always... impressed me.”
“But when did your thoughts about me start changing?” I really want to know this. I still don’t feel like I have a full picture of his feelings for me.
“I don’t know really. A few years ago. I always watched you. Studied you. Tried to figure you out. But gradually my observation became more than interest. It became something like... like...”
He trails off, and I can’t have that. I squeeze his side. “Like what?”
“Yearning,” he admits, a dryness in his tone that proves he’s a little embarrassed by the admission. “I was yearning for you. Wanting what I saw in you. I’ve spent my life with no one ever taking me seriously or seeing me for anything but my superficial qualities. There have been times when I doubted I actually had real substance underneath what I showed to the world. But you were so deep, so full. I wanted what I saw in you, but I knew you didn’t want what you saw in me, so I resigned myself to wanting you from a distance. Until you came up to me at Hal’s that night and asked if I wanted to carpool. It was like a miracle. The chance to spend time with you. The chance for you to get to know me for real.” He sighs and strokes my back. “I’ve never liked myself as much as I like myself with you.”
I press a kiss against his shoulder. Then his neck. “You’ve always been worth liking. You just never let anyone see it.”
“I am trying.” He gives a huff of ironic amusement. “Not just with you. I’m still trying to work on real friendships.”
“I’m happy about that. Everyone needs real community.”
“Yeah. It’s not easy, but you’re right. So I’m trying.”
I squeeze him hard.
He rolls over onto his back and pulls me on t
op of him. In the dark bedroom, I can’t see his eyes very well, but I can sense a smolder ignite that makes my blood pulse. He gazes up at me for a minute, and then he pulls me into a kiss.
Slowly the kiss deepens. Then his hands start to move over my body, caressing me over my pajamas. Then he takes off my clothes and strokes my naked body. Eventually I’m so aroused I’m squirming and gasping on top of him, rubbing myself against the bulge in his underwear.
“I love you, Jennifer,” he murmurs against my ear, squeezing the flesh of my thighs.
“I love you too. Can we please make love now?”
He laughs. “I thought we already were.”
He rolls us over and kisses his way down my body until he’s reached my hot, throbbing arousal. He nuzzles it, making me gasp. Then he holds me open and teases my clit with his tongue. I whimper and fight to hold my hips still. When he closes his lips down and sucks on my clit, I come apart with a helpless cry. I shake through the orgasm, and I’m still shuddering as Marcus shucks his underwear, rolls on a condom, and then settles himself between my legs.
When he enters me, we move together with urgent pumps of our hips. Marcus tries to kiss me, but we can’t hold it for very long. We’re both too far gone to focus. We end up with our heads inches apart, panting and gazing at each other. His face is twisting, and so is mine. He thrusts hard and fast until another climax releases inside me. He comes right after me, choking out my name and that he loves me.
I hear it this time.
It means everything.
I’m clinging to him with my arms and my legs as his body starts to soften.
“I love you,” I whisper into his ear. I feel the need to say it again.
He kisses my neck. Then my lips. “Always.”
TWO WEEKS LATER, I drive my (now functional) car over to the Greene farm at seven o’clock on a Monday morning.
I drive right to Marcus’s little place rather than going all the way up to the main house, but I’m surprised to see that Marcus is standing on his front porch, talking to both his parents.
Marcus is wearing khakis and a plaid button-up shirt. He shaved yesterday, so he only has some dark stubble on his jaw today. His backpack is on the ground at his feet.
His parents are both dressed for their morning chores, and they’re evidently having an intense discussion with him, based on body language.
I put my car in park and wait, not wanting to interrupt if the conversation is important.
As I watch, Marcus gives me a sideways look, and the corner of his mouth turns up.
I giggle to myself in the car. His look communicates very clearly that he’s currently trapped by his parents and can’t get away, but it’s nothing to be worried about.
We’re carpooling to work for real now—taking turns driving now that my transmission is fixed. Since we go in and leave at the same time, it’s silly to waste the gas and the wear and tear on our cars by driving separately.
Plus I love the time I spend with Marcus in the mornings and evenings on workdays. For some reason he opens up more—talks more genuinely, digs more deeply—as we drive than he does anywhere else except the bedroom.
The time we spend together on the commute to and from work is good for our relationship because we can’t do anything except talk to each other, and I wouldn’t give it up for anything.
Because I’m watching, I see Marcus try a couple of times to end the conversation. I can’t hear the words, but I don’t need to. Finally he starts to walk to the car, and his mom and dad come with him.
I roll down my window as they approach.
“Good morning, Mrs. Greene,” I call out with a smile. “Mr. Greene.”
“Good morning, dear,” his mother says, hurrying over to lean down and peer in the window. “I’m sorry to hold you up. We’re trying to make plans for the new chicken coop.”
“That’s all right. We’ve got plenty of time.”
“That’s not what Marcus says. He’s been trying to get us to shut up for several minutes now.” She laughs and gives her son an affectionate look as he gets into the passenger seat beside me. “But I can hardly blame him for wanting to spend time with his beautiful girlfriend rather than his old parents.”
I blush. I can’t help it.
“It’s not that, Mom,” Marcus says. “It’s that I don’t want to be late for work.”
“Jennifer said you have plenty of time.” She titters again at the face he makes. “But I’ll let you go. We can talk more later.” She reaches over and pats my hand, which is resting on the door. “It’s good to see you, dear. I’m so delighted that Marcus was able to win you. I’ve never seen him looking so happy in his whole life.”
I blush again, and Marcus closes his eyes and groans. “Mom.”
“Well, it’s true, isn’t it? Steve thinks so too. Don’t you, Steve?”
Marcus’s father is a quiet, graying man who looks a lot like his sons. He nods and says, “Yes, sweetheart. Whatever you say.”
I laugh at Mrs. Greene’s exasperated look. “Men.”
“You don’t need to tell me about them,” I say. “But fortunately I managed to snare a really good one.”
“You did. And I think he did pretty well for himself too. Come by for dinner sometime this week.”
“I will,” I promise, rolling up the window and waving as I back up onto the farm road.
“Sorry about that,” Marcus says.
“Nothing to be sorry about. I’ve always liked them.”
“You liked them better than you liked me, didn’t you?” His tone is fond and teasing, and he reaches over and tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear.
“Yes. For a long time I did. They were kind and respectable, and you weren’t. At least I didn’t know you were kind.”
“I guess that means I’ve never been respectable.”
“Not really.” I reach over to squeeze his knee. “But I wouldn’t want you any other way.”
“How was your grandmother last night?” he asks. He visits my grandmother with me three or four times a week, but he had to help his parents with a project in the barn last night so he hadn’t been able to come.
“She was pretty good. She asked about you. I think she was disappointed not to see you.”
“It’s a pretty big change since she always disapproved of me before. A lot of people in town seem to have changed their tune about me, now that I’m with you.”
I check his expression, since I know the town’s opinion of him in the past is still a sore subject, but he’s smiling and looking relaxed and open. “From what people have told me, the reason they warned me off from you was because they didn’t want you to use me and break my heart. Now that it’s clear you’re not doing that, they can be happy for us.”
“Do you think they really are? Happy for us, I mean.”
“Some of them are. Some of them are just pleased with some juicy gossip.”
“Sounds about right.”
There’s something in his voice, so I turn from the road to glance at his face. My breath hitches at what I see there.
Such naked tenderness.
I never dreamed Marcus Greene—anyone—would look at me that way.
It means something. That he loves me like that. That I can be sure he’ll love me the same way tomorrow.
Even if the rest of my life continues to be shaky, the foundations not always as secure as I’d like them, I’ll have the security of Marcus’s love, commitment, constant presence.
I never want to live without it again.
Nothing is certain in a world like ours, but I hope I’ll never have to.
I’m allowed to hope.
“What are you thinking?” he asks with a twitch of his lips.
“Nothing. Just how much I love you.”
“Yeah? You want to share some of those thoughts with me.”
“I love you. A lot.”
He frowns. “I was hoping for more details.”
“I was just thinking abo
ut how much has changed for me since I started carpooling with you.”
“I can guarantee that my life has changed even more than yours has. You were the very first person to see me for real. Now it seems like it’s possible for other people to know me as well. Maybe even my family.”
“I think they will. I keep thinking back to that day we were talking about what we really wanted. You remember that?”
“Of course I remember that. I couldn’t believe I was so honest with you. I’d never been honest like that with anyone else.”
“I couldn’t believe I opened up with you either. But it’s kind of funny. Thinking about what both of us shared. I think we kind of helped each other get what we really wanted.”
His mouth slowly turns up in a smile. “Yeah. I think that’s right. Maybe what we really wanted was each other.”
That seems to be enough of the conversation for now. We fall into a contented silence. And later on during the drive, we talk about what’s in store for us at work and what we might do for dinner.
It might be a Monday morning, but it’s a good one. And I can look forward to many more good mornings to come.
As long as Marcus is in the car beside me, I’m okay with whatever route we take.
Epilogue
THREE MONTHS LATER, I’m getting ready to go home on a Friday at five o’clock when Beck runs into my office in a flurry of long hair and gauzy skirt.
“What’s the matter?” I ask as soon as I’ve glanced at her face.
“You’ll never believe it. My office. My office!”
I set my purse down on my desk, although I keep my hand around the strap. “What about your office? Are they juggling folks around on your floor or something?”
“No. They’re saying they might have to move someone else into my office. Some new guy in the English department who’s starting next month.”
“What? They don’t make faculty share offices.”
“I know!” she wails. “But they’re in some sort of crunch, and the only available office space for faculty is in the science building. They don’t want a new guy to be all the way across campus from the other folks in his department. And mine is the biggest office close to him. Plus I’m the newest person to be hired, so I’m ripe for pillaging.”
