Where Do Broken Hearts Go?

22. Soul Windows

When we arrived in Venice, I thought I'd be ready to tour the city. Hell no. I took Marcel up on the nap offer and knocked out; so did he.

As I sit at the island, ignoring all of my friends' texts and calls, I hear the suite's front door open. For the fourth time this morning, my phone is lighting up with Ella's name. I know some type of anger is waiting for me. If I keep this up, it's only going to get worse.

"Hello?" I answer the nagging call.

The loud exasperation reveals Ella's relief and frustration. "You make me take the bus to WORK?" I sympathize with Ella's throat for how work coughs out. Yikes. Don't hurt yourself.

As I wait for the right moment to speak, my finger slides across the granite counter. "You've taken it before." After the snarky remark frees itself, I pull my lips to the side. 

I don't find a problem with public transportation. She didn't find a problem with ambushing Marcel.

"Why would you just leave me this morning? That's not cool."

"Did you get there on time?"

"No, because I was expecting to meet you downstairs. You know, like we do every freaking-"

When Marcel comes into the room running a towel through his damp hair, my phone crashes against the granite counter. Each crevice of his bare chest shares evidence of his morning workout.

As I'm trying to catch my bouncing phone, Marcel stalls. The phone slips past my bumbling fingers and strikes the floor. I can't blanket my shot nerves, but I can cover my face.

"Lord Jesus," I mumble. 

I said three prayers in .642 seconds. My first prayer is for the ability of invisibility. With my phone playing hopscotch, I pray the screen isn't cracked, but seriously, how could it not be? No matter how tempted Marcel may be to taunt, I'm praying for his silence. 

Through my fingers, I see Marcel picking up my phone.

"Yikes." He sets my cracked phone on the counter with a proud sneer as he heads for his room. Please don't look at me like that.

"Angel? Angel!" Ella stays on the line.

"I dropped my phone." I trace the small crack in the corner. "It's broke, Ella. I gotta go." I hang up.

"Maybe you should pay a little more attention to what you're doing." Marcel sasses from his room.

"I was! I just... got... clumsy." My tone shrinks as I try seeing into his room. When he walks past the door, I snatch myself back into my seat. "Get in the shower. We have reservations." I tap my nails along the granite, waiting for his shocked mug.

"What?" He impersonates an American accent as he questions.

"Yes," I emphasize with wide eyes.

"What did you do?"

"Looks like you'll just have to wait and see."

"What if I had something planned?"

"Did you?" I open my hands. 

Marcel ponders, knowing he didn't have anything for this morning. From what I've gathered, mornings are his me time and he leaves plenty of time for it.

"Not until this evening."

"Perfect." I smile. Marcel stands with his arms crossed. One step ahead of you, buddy. "Now, hurry up." I leave my seat to go to my room.

I'm first to get ready since I had taken my shower and skipped a morning workout – unlike my roommate. After, I journey into his room and make myself comfortable on his unmade bed. The light scent of his cologne lingers on the messy sheets. You can have my room and I'll take this one sir. I sit pretzel style after kicking the sheets around.