Where Do Broken Hearts Go?

21. Boyish

"I got into a fight with my friends last night." 

Ready for takeoff, I pull one leg into my seat as I close my eyes. In search of relief, I lean my head back, wishing for a blanket. I check to see if Marcel is wearing a hoodie, but no. He's wearing a Kings hockey jersey. Ugh.

"I don't want you fighting with your friends over me." Marcel disapproves as he's pulling up the seatbelt from underneath him. I look down and grab the other piece before he sits back down. "It's only going to make you want to rebel more and start acting differently towards them and me."

"They're embarrassing me." 

My eyes drop from his as my face involuntarily frowns up. As I tuck my random strands away, my eyes drift out of the window to our neighbor plane. 

Bringing my attention back to him, Marcel finds a wild strand to tame. "They're not embarrassing you." He doesn't take me seriously, until I continue to stare at him as he smoothes out my hair. Mimicking the expression I'm displaying, Marcel drops his hand, then asks, "How are they embarrassing you, Angel?"

"Attacking and interrogating you like the FBI. They're my friends and they're a reflection of me. They made me look awful."

"I let them run their mouths and left. I don't make time for high school shit like that. They're a reflection of themselves, not you. I understand where you're coming from with the whole sneaking around thing, but I'm not going to sneak around with you."

"No?"

"No. If you don't want to tell them we're hanging out or traveling, so be it. But, I'm not hiding from them. If they see us together, I don't give a fuck." He warns sternly, yet calmly.

"Marcel." My voice is low, trying to correct his language. "I don't like that." I declare before pulling my lips into my mouth while watching his.

As he twists the jewelry on his long fingers, he lies through a smirk I haven't seen in a while. "I'm going to speak how I want to speak." 

"Not in my presence." My brow lifts with authority. Marcel squeezes his lips together, narrowing his eyes to reject my stand.

"Why are your eyes so red?"

"It's 6 AM. I woke up at 4:30. What do you think?" I tilt my head to get a fuller view of his boyish face.

"We'll be in Venice in 2 hours. You can sleep when we get there."

"No, we'll want to explore all day." I rub my face and turn my head towards the window.

"You can sleep when we get there." He insists. I said no.

"I just need a couple of hours, because I didn't get any last night."

"And now they're messing up your rest."

"They pissed me off." My blacked out sight can't find the sleep it wants with Marcel continuing to talk.

"It shouldn't have made you that upset."

"Look who's talking." I give a red-tinted side-eye.

"How did you get out of the house?"

"I just got in my car and left."

"You're going to scare the hell out of them, Angel."

"If they call, I'll just tell them I need some space. Now, don't talk to me." I turn over. "I'm going to sleep." 

There's nothing to support my side. I can't stretch my damn legs. I turn to the other side, facing Marcel. Knowing I can only extend my legs so far, I try finding comfort for my torso. Bringing my legs into the seat, I quickly regret it; feeling a tightening in my leg. 

"No, no, no."I stretch out the coming cramp. Giving into defeat, I sit correctly and try leaning my seat back, but it's as far as it'll go. "Are you kidding me?" I turn on my side again and curl into a ball.

"Having trouble?" Marcel's snicker is taunting. I'm not in the mood for you right now.

"Shut up." I unravel and rest my back against the wall. Next, stretching my legs across his lap. Okay, hold on now. We may be on to something!

I scoot down in the seat, until my head rests in the middle of it. Bringing my hands up to use as a pillow, I shut my eyes after finding comfort.

Abruptly, my legs are knocked out of Marcel's lap. I try catching something, but as I shriek, there's nothing to save my ass from touching the dirty floor. Marcel kicks away my legs to jump up. With a burst of erupting laughter, Marcel heads for the back of the plane.

The couple across from me stares, even rolling their eyes at the situation Marcel put me in. Pulling myself up, I opt to lay out in the two seats. Quick, someone get me a blanket. Closing my eyes, I listen to what's left of Marcel's deep amusement.

"Move." He clears his throat of the deep chuckles.

"Nope." I deny, without fully opening my eyes. He looks down the aisle for the stewardess. 

"You know I will sit on you." He threatens.

"Try me."

Mouthing the word, okay, Marcel takes the challenge with a nod. He comes into our aisle and bends over. I didn't move my legs, because I didn't expect him to sit on top of me. Boy, was I wrong? 

"Marcel." I push on his thigh, but he holds the seat before us to secure his position. "Why are you like this?" I scold him as he looks down on me. "Get off," I whisper, trying not to draw a scene. "Now." I raise my brows as I try moving my legs. "My legs are going to go numb."

"I'm sure it's not the first time." He has a cheeky remark for me as his eyes aim towards the front of the aircraft. My eyes narrow as my tongue pokes out my cheek.

"You're going to get us kicked off."

"Then move." He glares at me. You better aim those piercing eyes somewhere else.

"Look at me!" I harshly whisper. 

That's when I see the flight attendant in blue and white. Hahaha. "Sir, you can't sit on her. Ma'am, please sit up. The seatbelt light is on." She points overhead as Marcel stands.

I decide to use my seat properly, but as soon as the flight attendant heads in the opposite direction, Marcel unbuckles his seatbelt. Gripping the end of his jersey, he drags it upward. Sir, what are you doing? Please behave.

By stripping, I catch a glimpse of a tattoo on his stomach. What's that? As I try picking it out, his shirt falls back into place and he balls up the long sleeve. Then, he sits his makeshift pillow against the wall. 

My jaw drops as Marcel turns my lap into a personal bed. This fool had the nerve to roll over and shut his eyes. Why didn't he do that for me? Reaching behind him, I hold up my arm as his fingers twirl in the air.

Without discovery, Marcel opens his eyes to peer over his shoulder. Taking my arm and bringing it to his chest, Marcel's heart repeatedly high-fives my open hand. With a closed smile, he holds it like a teddy bear.

"Idiot."

"Shhh. I'm going to sleep." He wiggles his hips to get more comfortable. 

Pinching the smile that threatens to pass my lips, I glance outside, then down on the baby in my lap.