I was having a crisis.
Well I had been having a long-term crisis for a week so far, but I was having a full on crisis.
"You're acting rather pathetic today, Di."
I decided to ignore the bartender, Franco. I opted for glaring at the pitcher of beer right in front of me.
"Deuses acima, whoever got your community dick twisted like this must be a temptress," Franco said with a chuckle before finally leaving me to my thoughts.
I had stupidly hoped to run into Maria in her little pub, but of course she'd picked that night to take a night off.
I needed a distraction. I needed something or anything to put a rest to the pain in my chest, the clammy hands, the maiden-like wistful sighs—Do I think I'm in a fairytale?—or the way I got so painfully hot from a mere smile.
We'd gotten back to the inn early enough into the night, and I'd hoped throughout our walk back that the nobleman would not fully register our interlinked fingers.
The fact that I had to physically restrain myself from sighing when Marcellus' thumb gently brushed over the back of my hand, was enough of a hint as to how badly I'd fallen…
Not in love though! No. Never that. Absolutely not.
Lust, however? That was its own beast but at least it was one that was easily calmed down. Most of the time.
When we'd finally gotten to the open door of my inn, I didn't want to go inside. Going inside meant losing the chill of Marcellus' hand. It meant the end of one more day with the nobleman, hinting at his departure from my little town.
"Well that's the town. Told ya there wasn't much to it," I remember saying and hoping I sounded as casual as possible.
Marcellus was staring into the inn, a mysterious little smile on his handsome face. He'd ran a hand through his curls—which looked rather soft, might I add—and continued to stare. He was absentmindedly swinging our linked arms for a moment and I just enjoyed staring at him without it being weird.
Next thing I knew he was gently pulling me closer but still kept his eyes on the rambunctious guests I had in my inn. They were singing and dancing, Sofia yelling at two drunk patrons to get off the tables. Maurice had even walked out to have a drink while talking to Isabella, the nighttime bartender. It was as chaotic as every other weekend night and if I wasn't with the nobleman, I would've probably been a part of it.
"There is a lot to it, Diego. I have never seen a group of people as happy."
He'd turned to look at me then and I'd had to nearly swallow my tongue from how fast I closed my parted lips.
"I must retire for the evening, but truly. Thank you. It is hard to believe, but this was my favorite night of my travels."
I was going to speak then. Was going to say just about whatever stupid comment that would've both embarrassed me and relieved me of my nervousness. Might have blurted out some ridiculous statement of me being the best damned tour guide on that side of the world.
Except I couldn't. Because he kissed me.
Well when I said kiss, I don't mean the one I would've most likely preferred. It was a peck. A simple kind of greeting even in my kingdom. A small peck to the cheek. It was nothing.
Except he'd never done that before. Not to me, or anyone else as far as I was aware. It was definitely nothing to the nobleman and it should've been nothing to me.
Except I'd been left frozen at the door by that mere action. I didn't even respond to Marcellus' 'good night'. I'd just stood there. Until my brain woke up and I found myself in Maria's pub with a beer I didn't remember ordering.
I put my elbows on the bar's counter and ran my hands up my face, leaving them in my hair as I muttered, "What is happening to me?"
"Hell if I know," Franco responded, making me jump. When did he get here? "But it's starting to freak me out. It's been an hour and you haven't even touched your favorite beer. Did you get dumped?"
I blinked twice before turning to the still cold pitcher, downing it in one go and ignoring the few drops that escaped my lips.
"Another. I need to get fucked."
"So you did get dumped. Got it." He still poured me my drink.
I downed that one as well. Then another. And another, until I couldn't remember just how many I'd drank.
I didn't remember when exactly I had left the bar nor when and how I'd found myself in bed with a woman I could barely see the face of.
I didn't remember when exactly we'd started fucking, her moans and mine barely registering in my brain. It was downright frustrating how even then, all I could've pictured as she rode me from on top was Marcellus. Him grinning down at me so seductively as he drew out the most embarrassing keening noises from my lips.
My mind had oddly replaced the worn down hotel room with the forest surrounding the Unnamed River. Marcellus' dark skin had glowed the most ethereal silver under the moonlight and the Marcy in my brain had looked at me with the same warm look he did before giving me that damned peck.
Dream Marcy had me already losing my mind, not to talk of the real one.
I blinked my heavy eyelids open and stared at the room's window for the longest time. The woman laying naked beside me was fast asleep while I questioned every life decision I'd ever made.
I quietly got off the bed and put on my pants, moving to stand beside the window as I watched the dark blue skies of the early morning. My too long hair covered my scarred shoulders and half my back as I leaned on the windowsill and stared until the sun began to properly peak through.
I was so far gone into my mind that I hadn't noticed the woman had left until the sun had finally made its dramatic appearance.
Only one more day, huh? Will I feel better once he's gone?
This wasn't like me. I was the type to immediately do whatever my brain was thinking about before the thought fully formed. Sofia called it me being an impulsive idiot, but I've always been that way.
If I found someone attractive, I pursued. If they rejected, a rare occurrence, I backed off and moved on. I didn't spend nights wide awake giggling to myself about every little interaction we'd had. I didn't drink myself into memory loss just from something as simple as a peck like I was a new teenager realizing what crushes were.
This wasn't like me, and I hated it. I hated being like this. It was new and scary, things I never thought I'd still be feeling at age 30. I hated feeling so out of depth from just a simple action from another person.
I hadn't felt this out of sorts since my father died. Though that had been a different kind of confused and turbulent emotions.
The sound of a rooster croaking was what got me to move. I cleaned up as much in the room's bathroom and put on my shirt and shoes before heading back to the inn.
I'd made up my mind. Either I did something before he left to put all these strange feelings to rest, or I simply moved on once his presence wasn't felt anymore. I needed to get my shit together, as Sofia's potty mouth would've said.
She really needs to work on that. How can a 17 year old make even a sailor blush?