𝗔𝗰𝗾𝘂𝗮𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲𝘀

Twenty-Four

As the passionate kiss intensified, Marco's hands - warm and trembling with anticipation - found their way to Rebecca's waist, drawing her into an embrace that felt both exhilarating and comforting. Each touch and each breath overpowered any doubts or uncertainties that had previously clouded his mind.

He wanted this. He yearned for it.

Marco savored the softness of Rebecca's lips, the taste of her breath mingling with his, and the subtle scent of her perfume that enveloped them in a cloud of desire. His fingertips, feather-light against the fabric of her shirt, traced delicate patterns along the curve of her waist. Each caress carried a depth of emotion that words could never capture, a silent conversation between souls laid bare.

Rebecca's heart raced in sync with the rhythm of Marco's own, her senses heightened by the intoxicating closeness. She reveled in the warmth of his embrace, the strength of his arms enfolding her, and the gentle rhythm of their breaths intermingling. With each passing moment, she felt herself drawn deeper into the pull, a bond forged of unspoken longing.

Suddenly, a voice cut through the air. "Ahem," the waiter interrupted, crossing his arms with a knowing glint in his eyes. "We're going to have to ask you two to leave. This is a family establishment, and we have certain standards to uphold."

Marco and Rebecca broke apart, their cheeks flushed with embarrassment as they registered the waiter's disapproving gaze. Marco cleared his throat, attempting to regain his composure, while Rebecca tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her cheeks still tinged with a rosy hue.

He exchanged a sheepish smile with Rebecca before redirecting his attention to the waiter, eager to resolve the situation and alleviate the awkwardness hanging in the air.

"Uh, yeah, sure, sorry," Marco mumbled, his voice tinged with a hint of mortification. This was uncharted territory for him.

The waiter nodded curtly, his eyebrows furrowing in a brief display of disapproval before his expression softened slightly as he turned to attend to another table.

Marco and Rebecca shared a glance as they made their way toward the exit, but the lingering echoes of the restaurant whispers trailed behind them like a shadow. Some onlookers shot disapproving looks, their murmurs tinged with judgment.

"How rude, Fucking kids, Get a room," they heard some mutter under their breaths. Yet, amidst the disapproval, there were those whose whispers carried a different tone, a hint of admiration and perhaps envy. "Way better than porn, Spicyer than booktok, How romantic," voices said in hushed tones, followed by plenty of stifled giggles from groups of onlookers.

Marco's mind raced with questions as they stepped onto the bustling street. What just happened? Was this real?

His thoughts drifted away from the shadows of suspicion that had clouded his mind earlier. Was this what she was hiding the whole time?

Instead, he found himself consumed by the warmth of Rebecca's presence, by the undeniable chemistry that pulsed between them. It must be, he thought, unable to deny her willingness.

Rebecca chuckled softly, her laughter a welcome respite from the tension of the moment. "I was looking forward to trying their strawberry pancakes," she said playfully, a mischievous glint in her eye.

Marco grinned, the tension easing from his shoulders as he met her playful gaze. "I only come for the coffee. Their pancakes are shit," he joked, his tone lightening the mood with a touch of humor. His mind, however, wasn't completely in sync with the banter.

"So, this whole time...?" Marco mused, his thoughts swirling with questions and a newfound sense of curiosity. The lingering taste of Rebecca's lips still resonated, imprinting a memory that seemed to linger in the air around them. He couldn't shake off the intensity of the moment, nor the blood flow of emotions that accompanied it.

"Well...I mean, not exactly the whole time, there were moments," Rebecca corrected gently, her voice a soft reassurance.

"Okay, since when, then?" Marco's brows furrowed, his gaze searching Rebecca's face for clues. His mind raced, trying to piece together their timeline.

"Last night, after the ordeal with your dad, I didn't know if it was the adrenaline or the Everclear, but I just wanted to stay with you," Rebecca confessed, her words carrying the weight of vulnerability and honesty. Her eyes held his, a silent invitation to share in the depth of her emotions. "Even before that, I don't know... the way we just vibed even though the world around us is shit... I just couldn't get your voice out of my head."

"In all fairness, you were always in mine, never left. Since the night we first met," Marco admitted, his voice resonating with sincerity as the memories of their first encounter flooded his mind. "I knew I couldn't--"

She always belonged to someone else...

"I know," Rebecca interjected softly, her gaze holding his with unwavering honesty.

"And now?" Marco wondered, his voice tinged with uncertainty as he sought clarity amidst the tangled emotions. "What's the deal? You still with Mr. Hot Shot Chico?"

As Marco's question hung in the air, Rebecca took a moment to collect her thoughts. She glanced out at the bustling street, the noise of the city providing a temporary distraction from their conversation.

With a deep breath, she turned back to Marco, her eyes reflecting a mixture of emotions. "It's complicated," she began, her voice tinged with uncertainty...

Marco's brows furrowed, his concern evident as he listened intently.

"I thought I could make it work, but being with him feels like... living in a constant state of compromise, of constantly trying to please him...and my dad. I'm just tired of pretending to be someone I'm not," she admitted, her gaze searching Marco's face for understanding.

"We're doing this Ross-Rachel thing, taking some time away from each other," she confessed, her voice tinged with resignation. "I don't know if it'll make things better or worse, but I just needed some space," she explained, her eyes betraying a hint of sadness.

"So, the kiss?" Marco inquired, searching Rebecca's eyes for an explanation. His expression was a subtle mix of curiosity and vulnerability. Please be real, please be real. Please, for the love of God...

"Intentional," she admitted.

Yes! Marco internally noted, a rush of relief flooding through him.

"Okay, good," he replied, his voice carrying a subtle undercurrent of desire. Finally, a glimpse of authenticity. "Because I know of an even better brunch place."