Where Do Broken Hearts Go?

17. Mini Social Life

I haven't seen Marcel in 2 weeks. He has been working in Cannes and Germany on ad campaigns. 

At the moment, my place is funded by my job. After these 6 months, other plans have to be in order. Since I told Ella that I'm moving back to New York, we've been around for a place for her.

Lana pops her head into my office to announce, "My parents finally found their place."

Taking a break from my reading, I twirl my pen between my fingers to congratulate. "That's awesome. I'm happy for you guys."

"I never thought I would live in London, but here we are." She tosses her arms into the air – soon to exhale into a sympathetic sigh. "I hope you find something within these next two months to keep you here." Lana sits in an empty chair at the front of my desk. "I don't want to lose one of my best friends." She purses her lips as she forces a smile.

To comfort her, I indicate the unforeseen possibility, "I don't know what will happen."

"True, but Angel." She smiles. "Once your mind is made, we've learned to give up."

"Things may change." I shrug, bouncing the doubt off my shoulders, but it lands right back in place.

"Like I haven't heard that before." Lana jumps up. "The only way pigs are going to fly around here" She twirls her orange-polished finger. " is if we push them off of the roof." She leaves my office with an unconvinced laugh.

With Lana's laugh still audible, I spy Marcel's name on my phone screen.

"Ask me out for dinner tonight." His text reads.

"Oh no!" I exclaim, tapping the keys on my laptop.

THAT EVENING

Although I invited Marcel to dinner, he found himself waiting for me. I told him I would be a little late, because Eddie, like everyone else, isn't aware that I have a mini social life.

Fresh from work, I mosey across the restaurant in a mustard yellow, long sleeve, crop top with high-waisted houndstooth printed trousers. I paired it with gold-detail, black booties to match the buttons on my pants. My hair is thrown into a high, straight ponytail. 

"About time you got here." Marcel opens the anticipated night.

"I'm out of here." I reroute, but he takes my hand, standing to welcome me.

He wraps his arms around my body. "Be sweet, Angel." 

Oh, God. This is a first and I promise it won't be the last. Hold up! Why did you let go so quickly? Dammit. Marcel get back here. 

Unsated, I watch as he pulls out my seat. "You're the one that opened the night with sass." I take the open chair. "Thank you." I scoot the rest of the way to the table.

Across from me, Marcel reclaims his seat with a playful smirk. "I can't let you have it easy." 

"Give me a break sometimes."

"Absolutely not. I need my thrills." As he stretches his legs, he grazes mine. 

My eyes ricochet from the table as if I could see through it. Shit, now I'm nervous about shifting my legs throughout the night. What if they brush again? I overthink everything. 

"How you been?"

"Swamped." I harshly pronounce the d, ready, but waiting for the appropriate time to order a drink. Marcel finds amazement in my stress. What else is new? "My job is trying to kill me. We have a lot of new releases passing through that have to be ready for fall. But, enough about misspelled words and punctuation." I cheese, tapping my white polished nails along the table. "Congrats on your new project. You say it was for Gucci?"