Hey, Mister Marshall (St. Mary's Rebels 4)

In fact, that’s what he said that day.

He told me that a kiss with him would lead to other things.

And God, I want those things.

I really, really do.

With him.

“Well, all I want is a kiss,” I say then. “My first kiss.”

He breathes out sharply in response.

“But I also know that you said that a kiss from you could lead to other things.”

“I’m glad you remember,” he bites out. “Why don’t you use your excellent memorization skills to stun us all on your tests?”

I ignore his sarcasm and go on, “And I’m open to that. I’m so open that –”

“Enough,” he says then.

He bites it out actually, through clenched teeth. Through pursed lips that barely move.

But it’s loud and clear. And authoritative.

It’s commanding enough for me to do exactly as he wants me to.

Even though I don’t want to.

“This is a place of business,” he begins, straightening up and uncrossing his arms and clenching his fists at his sides, as if making himself all taller and broader. “I’ve already explained that I’m not going to entertain talk like that from you. So if that is why you were out there, making a fucking appointment, so you can act like a fucking diva then you may as well leave and go back to your classes. Because this is not up for discussion.” He clenches his teeth hard. “Ever. And that’s my final fucking decision.”

I flinch at the end as well and lower my eyes, ashamed.

I shouldn’t have done that.

I should not have tried to convince him when I promised that I would obey him. I can’t believe I let my composure falter this way. I can’t believe I turned into a diva.

Taking a deep breath, I rein in my impulses though and apologize. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“Good.”

“B-but that wasn’t why I was here. I was wondering if I could get an overnight pass with —”

“Done.”

“But you haven’t even —”

He moves away from the desk, cutting me off. “It’s fine. Just talk to my assistant and she’ll set it up with your guidance counselor.”

“There’s also a party,” I blurt out. “Well, a get-together.”

That halts him in his tracks.

He was in the process of walking back to his chair but now he’s turned toward me and frowning. “What?”

I nod. “There’s sort of a get-together and —”

He folds his arms across his chest again. “When?”

“Saturday night.”

“Where?”

“Uh, that’s slightly tricky.”

He narrows his eyes. “How tricky?”

I grimace. “It’s at a bar.”

“No.”

“But —”

“No.”

“Please,” I plead, swallowing. “Just listen.”

He watches me for a couple of seconds before sighing and shifting on his feet.

His silent indication that I can go on.

Relieved, I sigh too and begin, “The whole reason I’m going to this bar is because I’m trying to help a friend. There’s this guy she likes, see, and she hasn’t seen him in a really long time, like in years. And he’s going to be there and I wanna help her out because she loves him. Like really, Alaric. And this may be her only shot for a while to see him. And…”

He studies my face before prodding, “And.”

“And I know what that feels like. I know what it feels like when you wanna be close to someone but can’t be. So I really want her to have this.” His jaw clenches but I keep going, trying to put his mind at ease. “And I know it’s in a bar but it’ll be totally supervised. In the sense that my other friends and their boyfriends are going as well. My one friend has like four brothers and they’re probably all gonna be there. That’s how we’re getting into the bar. And please trust me when I say that they’re very safe and protective. They’re probably actually losing their minds like you are. But it’s gonna be fine. I promise. I’ll follow whatever rules you may have.”

My explanation only makes his expression harsher and I wonder what more can I say to convince him. Maybe I should list off the names of all of Callie’s brothers and her husband. Because they’re all really coming.

“You know what it feels like,” he says finally, his voice low. “To want to get close to someone.”

“What?”

“Because you were in love yourself, weren’t you?”

I don’t understand.

But then I do.

I completely absolutely do.

He thinks I was talking about Jimmy. When I said what it feels like to want to get close to someone but can’t.

But I wasn’t.

I was talking about him.

I was…

“Alaric, I —”

“Fine,” he cuts me off. “You can go.”

“But I have to —”

“No drinks from strangers though.”

My chest heaving, I watch him. I watch his firmly set features, his chocolate chip eyes, and I really, really want him to know that I wasn’t even thinking about Jimmy. I don’t even care about Jimmy anymore.

I was talking about him.

But I know he won’t let me say anything.