Where Do Broken Hearts Go?

13. Espen

After an awkward breakfast, this mix-match pair find themselves in a quaint, local shop.

"So, your friends don't know where you are this weekend?"

"No, and I'd like to keep it that way," I say as Marcel follows me rather than shopping for himself.

He uninterestedly spins a keychain rack to entertain himself.  "Ooo, we're sneaking around. Very scandalous. It doesn't feel like an Angel trait. Mind the pun." Hugging the rack, he rests his weight over it as he mocks. You break it, you buy it.

My white-polished nails skim over the different heights of snowglobes. As my hand dips, I wrap a globe in my fingers as I pick it up. Shaking the mini world, the woman holding a pie now enjoys the light snow.

"Because it's not." 

"What makes this time different?" 

Marcel's accent causes a passing customer to pick her head up from the finery in her clutches. Her once broad eyes begin to relax on the trouble maker. A smile sneaks across my lips, quick to fade. Trust me, I understand.

"I just... need to live my life more," I admit as my fingers skim over the cookie jars and coffee sets.

"There's nothing wrong with that, but not telling your friends–"

"They would have tied me to a dresser if they knew I was here with you," I say over my shoulder to Marcel. 

From my blurry peripheral, he looks up from his eye wandering. "They know about me?" As his pitch goes on the rise, I know his mouth has given birth to his common smirk. Here he goes flattering himself.

"Lana." I turn to face the smirk, but it wilts, trying to dig through his memory for the name.

"I don't know of a Lana."

"She was at the shop when you spilled your coffee on me." I sit my hands on my hips, waiting for him to remember. 

Recalling, Marcel snaps his ringed fingers with a light chuckle. "That woman wanted to bite my head off. When you left, I saw how she was yapping at you."

"She still wants to bite your head off. My friend Ella saw you drop me off at work. Of course, I had to explain myself. I was getting out of a strange man's car." I walk to another rack. "So, yes, they know about you."

"So," He pauses. "this weekend didn't happen?" His usually playful tone didn't sound off in the question. 

Protecting his ego and declaring my truth, I confirm, "It happened for me, but not to them. They're not going to know shit."

"But you're buying souvenirs." Marcel reaches before me to pick up a candle. 

My fingers reach to smell it, but he brings it to his nose first. A sugary scent tails the fragrant candle. Oooo, what's that? My dissatisfied gaze and nose trail up, over my shoulder as I wait for my turn. After finishing with it, Marcel brings it to my nose.

"Smells like cookies," I note as he sits it down. "I can hide my souvenirs. I don't know what to get." I look around the small, yet full store. "We've done so much. I don't know what I want to take home to remember this by."

"Let's explore some more and maybe you'll come across something."

"Marcel?" I hear a woman's voice. I look up from the stacked table to see a blonde hugging Marcel as if she knows him.

"Espen? Hello." He seems confused by her welcome.

"I haven't seen you in some time. It's so good to see you." The young woman holds his face.