Girlfriend On Mars

23. "I can't fucking handle you"

Twenty Three.

"I can't fucking handle you"

With Jen's shirt still draped over her form, Marley extended out her arm, stroking the empty bed space beside her. It had a dent in it; a Jen shaped dip in the mattress. Morning had broken, early light glittering into the room through a thin slit in the curtains. The house felt as still as it usually did, especially so since Jen was absent. The door to the bedroom opened cautiously and Jen popped her head around, smiling when she saw Marley was awake. She was holding two bowls of cereal.

"Here, didn't know what you liked so I got you Fruit Loops." She said, voice still thick with sleep. It was gruff, husky in the morning. Marley wanted to hear her talk more. She placed the bowls on the bedside table and sat down on the bed again, close to Marley. The younger girl couldn't seem to contain how pleased she was to see her.

Marley immediately reached out and touched Jen, fingertips faintly brushing over her cheek, smoothing down against her jawline. Jen looked over at her and grinned at the strange action, raising her eyebrow.

"You alright, Mars?" She asked gently, trying to read the younger girl. To her, something didn't feel right, something had changed, and it was churning up in her stomach.

"Jen, I..." have feelings for you. Want to be with you. Want to kiss you. What would she say? Marley closed her mouth instead, opting not to be stupid and act on her emotions in the moment. The urge was strong, to let Jen know how she was feeling, to let her know of everything her heart spoke of. "Don't worry about it actually."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

Again, with the lying, Jen thought to herself. She hated that Marley would keep the truth from her a lot but at the same time, Jen had an inkling that deep down she didn't want to know. If it had anything to do with why the atmosphere had changed or why the way she looked at her had changed, Jen would rather it was kept hidden. The idea of something being different between them made her feel quite ill and worried, and she couldn't exactly explain it herself, but she knew she was against it.

When Jen had woken that morning, Marley was close, sleeping preciously as if posed there by the Gods. Her warm, honey hair was dishevelled in sleep but splayed out against the pillow perfectly, plump pink lips parted ever so slightly, dark, thick lashes still on her freckled skin. Jen thought she looked like an angel, and fully realised the reason why Marley was so liked among students at school—despite her unfitting fashion and her lack of extroversion. She was beautiful. And she was in Jen's bed, wearing Jen's clothes and even though nothing sexual had happened, Jen sat up and felt a sense of pride swelling arrogantly within her.

Jen also felt lucky. She reckoned she knew Marley better and differently to the way her friends knew her, and only she got that. That was her prized treasure, getting to see the part of Marley Rhodes that mattered the most. The vulnerability, the comfort, the good, the bad and the progression of opening up. Jen had seen it all and she'd never realised how important patience was until then.

So even if something was weird, or something was steadily or already had changed, Jen was so content that she felt she didn't want to lose the younger girl. Not for anything, not then, not yet.

Marley was eating as quietly as she could beside a silent Jen. She wanted to know what the older girl was thinking, she wanted to see into her head and know her and all of her complexities. She figured she'd start small.

"What's your favourite colour, Jen?"

The dark-haired girl turned her head, smiled, then hummed in thought. "Probably black, or like dark green."