Your Mark on Me

Chapter 12: Sharing

Breakfast — bacon and eggs — was waiting for me in the kitchen when I woke up. It was cold, but I couldn't be bothered to heat it up. The house was very quiet; I wondered if my host was even at home.

He was. I was still eating when he entered the the kitchen and offered to make coffee.

"Any news about your keys?"

I told him that Chloe had texted me and I was good to go pick them up whenever.

"Great. Do you want me to give you a lift?"

He didn't really sound like he was keen to, so I declined politely.

"All right. I'll be in the study doing some work. Come find me when you're done."

I finished my breakfast in silence, disappointed he hadn't stayed to keep me company. I washed the two plates and the pan left in the sink, then wiped the table. It was the least I could do.

The door of the study was ajar. I knocked, then pushed it open. "I'm done."

He finished scribbling a sentence before he put the pen down and raised his head to acknowledge me. "Okay." By the way he was smiling at me expectantly, I realised he was waiting for me to take my leave.

Instead, I closed the door behind me and shuffled closer.

"So what are you working on? Something for your job?"

"Not really. It's more of my own project."

"I see. What kind of project?"

I was leaning above the desk, my eyes scrolling over the sheet of paper in front of him.

"None of your business."

He got up and started tidying the desk, stacking the loose sheets in a small pile, covering the one I was just looking at. I didn't know how to react; I wasn't expecting such cold treatment. For a good couple of minutes he seemed to completely ignore me, until eventually, he sighed. "I'm writing a book. Things are going well at the office, so I don't need to be there every single day. Figured I'd use the spare time to do something I've always wanted to."

He was a writer! Chloe wouldn't have agreed,  but it in my eyes he couldn't be any more cool. "That's amazing! What's your book about?"

"You might not find it that interesting. It's..."

"What, boring, grown-up stuff? I can handle it."

I thought he stifled a smile at my attempted sarcasm. He was done tidying, so now he was just standing, leaning against the desk with his arms folded. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up and I couldn't help but notice that he had nice, toned forearms. He also had beautiful hands — I had noticed it before, when we were playing the piano.

"Well, the main character is a guy in his late forties, going trough a divorce, mid-life crisis, all that jazz. Meeting the child he never knew he had makes him reminisce about his life and the choices he made. How his life could have taken a whole different course if only little things had happened differently. And how he can never make up for the time lost. It's a long story, but that's the gist of it."

"I like long stories. Can I read what you've written so far?"

He laughed. "You're a nosy little thing, aren't you?"

I looked up at him, confused. Was I asking for too much? "Sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"You didn't mean to walk into this room without permission the other day? How does that work?"

I froze. "I don't... understand."

"I know you've been snooping around. My papers weren't laid out the way I left them. And I found this on the floor. Trust me, none of my other acquaintances wear string bracelets."