9. Marley
Chapter Nine
Marley
The cool night air bit at my skin as I leaned against Atlas’s car, taking a long drag from my cigarette. The smoke burned warm in my lungs before I exhaled slowly, watching it curl into the cold and dissolve.
The parking lot was mostly dark, lit by a few tired streetlights that stretched long shadows across the cracked asphalt. A group of people stumbled past, their laughter echoing off the surrounding buildings as they made their way to a waiting car.
It was past one in the morning, and the night had that particular stillness that comes when the world starts winding down.
A few stragglers lingered near their cars, some smoking cigarettes like me, others engaged in hushed conversations.
The faint scent of tobacco mingled with the crisp winter air and the faint smell of spilled beer from the alley behind the club.
“She’s into you,” Atlas said, her voice cutting through my thoughts. “You know that, right?”
I turned to face her, noting the knowing look in her eyes. She had positioned herself against the hood of her car, arms crossed, studying me with that inquisitive stare that had made her my best friend and occasionally my biggest pain in the ass.
“She’s straight,” I said, taking another drag. “And basically engaged. She’s totally off-limits,” I said with a grunt. Even saying it left a dull ache under my ribs.
“Off-limits, maybe. Straight?” Atlas raised an eyebrow. “Did you see the way she looked at you tonight?”
I flicked ash to the ground.
“That wasn’t straight-girl curiosity, Mar. That looked a whole lot like longing to me.”
“So what if it was?” I said. “She’s got some guy waiting back home. Her whole life is mapped out already.”
“And?”
“And I don’t do complicated.” The words came out harsher than I intended. “You know me. I prefer simple and available with no strings attached.”
Atlas snorted. “Right, because you looked so unaffected when she mentioned her soon-to-be fiancé, or should I call it her soon-to-be husband?”
I remembered that moment too clearly, the tightness in my chest and the sudden urge to punch something solid.
“Look,” I said, taking another drag, “maybe there’s some attraction there. Fuck. It doesn’t matter, though. I am not blowing up someone’s life for fun.”
“Since when do you avoid chaos?” Atlas asked. “You practically court it.”
I didn’t answer because the truth was more complicated than I wanted to admit. There was something about Kelechi that made me want to slow down, rather than dive in. Which was both new and annoying.
“This is different,” I muttered.
“How?”
I searched for a version of the truth that didn’t sound pathetic.
“Because… she’s not some random girl at a bar looking for a good time. She’s got this whole innocent thing going on, and I don’t want to be the reason she wrecks everything.”
“Or maybe,” Atlas said with a shrug, “you’re scared because for once you actually care about the outcome.”
That landed hard.
“I don’t get scared,” I said, but even I could hear how unconvincing it sounded.
“Indeed…” she rolled her eyes. “I guess that’s why you’re out here chain-smoking and overthinking.”
Before I could come up with a decent comeback, the sound of footsteps and familiar laughter caught my attention.
I looked up and saw Kelechi and Carmen walking towards us, their silhouettes backlit by the glow from the car park lights.
Kelechi had her arms wrapped around herself against the cold, and even from this distance, I could see her breath fogging in the air.
As they got closer, I noticed how she wrinkled her nose. It was a small, quick and subtle move, but I caught it.
She hated the smell of smoke.
“Ready to head out?” Carmen asked cheerfully as they reached us, seemingly oblivious to the heavy conversation Atlas and I had been having.
“Definitely,” Atlas replied, pushing off from the car. “This cold is brutal.”
We said our goodbyes in the parking lot, followed by Atlas and Carmen sharing a lingering kiss that made me look away. Carmen gave me a warm hug and told me it was great to meet my “project partner” with a suspicious smile that made my cheeks burn.
Atlas shot me one last look—which could translate to don’t be an idiot—before they got into the car and drove off.
And suddenly it was just Kelechi and me, standing beside my Honda in the nearly deserted parking lot. I dropped my cigarette and crushed it under my boot before unlocking the car.
“Come on,” I said, opening the passenger door for her. “Let’s get you out of this cold.”
Once we were both settled inside with the engine running and the heat beginning to chase away the winter chill, I found myself studying her profile in the dim glow of the dashboard lights. She was looking down at her hands, seemingly lost in thought.
“Hey,” I said softly, turning in my seat to face her. “Does smoking bother you? I noticed you… earlier. You seemed to react to it.”
She looked up at me, her eyes wide with panic.
“Oh no, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to be rude. I just… I’m just not used to it.”
She said it with the guilt of someone who’d committed a crime. God.
“You don’t need to apologise,” I said. “I should have thought about that.”
She shivered slightly, pulling her thin cardigan tighter around herself. The car’s heater was working, but slowly, and I could see goosebumps on her arms where her sleeves had ridden up.
Without thinking, I shrugged out of my jacket.
“Here.”
“Oh, you don’t have to—”
“Take it,” I said, holding it out to her. “You’re freezing.”
She hesitated for a moment, then reached for the jacket. Our fingers brushed as she took it from me, and the contact sent electricity shooting up my arm. Her skin was soft and cold, and for a split second neither of us moved.
“Thank you,” she whispered, pulling the jacket around her shoulders. It was a bit big on her, swallowing her mid-sized frame, and something about seeing her wrapped in my clothes made my mouth go dry.
“Better?” I asked, though my voice sounded rougher than before.
She nodded, tucking her hands inside the sleeves.
“Much better. It smells like you.”
I could bet that the words slipped out before she could stop them, and I watched colour flood her cheeks in the dashboard’s blue glow. She looked mortified.
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” I asked, leaning slightly closer without meaning to.
“Good,” she said quietly, so quietly I almost didn’t hear her. “It’s… good.”
Her lips were slightly parted, and I found myself staring at them, wondering what they would feel like. What they would taste like.
“Kelechi,” I said, her name scraping up my throat like broken glass.
She looked up at me then, and the expression in her eyes made my heart stutter. There was fear there, yes, but also something that looked a lot like… want. The same that I’d seen at the bar when I had told her to be curious instead of scared.
I lifted my hand slowly, giving her time to pull away, and tucked a strand of her braid behind her ear. My fingertips grazed her cheek, and she leaned into the touch almost unconsciously.
“Marley?” she breathed, her eyes fluttering closed.
“Princess,” I murmured.
When she opened her eyes again, they were dark and uncertain.
“I don’t understand what’s happening to me.”
“You don’t have to understand everything,” I said, my thumb brushing the line of her jaw. “Sometimes you just have to feel it.”
She didn’t move away. If anything, she leaned in, drawn by the same invisible force that was pulling me towards her. I could feel her breath against my lips, could see the way her pulse was racing in the hollow of her throat.
“We shouldn’t,” she whispered, but she didn’t pull away.
“Probably not,” I agreed, my voice barely audible.
The distance between us was disappearing, inch by careful inch. I could feel the heat radiating from her skin, could see the way her eyes kept flicking down to my lips. My heart was pounding so hard.
Just as our lips were about to meet, her phone rang, loud and jarring in the intimate silence. We sprang apart like we’d been burned, both of us breathing hard.
She fumbled for her phone with shaking hands, and I saw a woman’s contact photo lighting up the screen.
“I have to…” she said, her voice unsteady.
“Yeah,” I said, running a hand through my hair and trying to get my bearings. “Of course.”
She answered on the fourth ring, her voice instantly transforming into something more formal.
“Hello, mummy. Good evening, ma,” she said, and I could hear the slight breathlessness she was trying to hide.
I leaned back in my seat, giving her space, but unable to help myself from listening. Her side of the conversation was fascinating. The way her whole demeanour shifted, becoming more deferential, more… contained.
“Yes ma, I’m fine. Just… just doing some late-night reading,” she said, glancing at me with wide eyes as the lie tumbled from her lips.
I bit my knuckle to keep from laughing. Late-night reading indeed.
“No ma, just school and the library,” Kelechi continued, her eyes staying on mine. There was something almost conspiratorial about the way she was looking at me, like we were sharing a secret.
Which, I suppose, we were.
“Yes, I’m being a good girl. Of course, ma,” she said, and this time I couldn’t suppress the quiet snort of amusement that escaped me.
She shot me a look that was part embarrassment, part amusement, her lips twitching as she tried not to smile while talking to her mother.
Good girl, I thought, my mind immediately going places it had no business going.
If only she knew how good her daughter looked tonight, how she’d reacted when I touched her face, how she’d been seconds away from kissing me.
The conversation continued for a few more minutes—typical mother–daughter check-ins about eating well, studying hard, staying safe.
I found myself oddly charmed by how patient Kelechi was with whatever question her mum was throwing at her, and how genuine her answers sounded despite the lies she was telling.
“Yes ma, I’ll call you tomorrow. Goodnight. Greet daddy for me,” she said finally before hanging up.
The silence that followed felt heavy with everything we weren’t saying. She stared down at her phone for a moment, and I could practically see her processing what had just happened, both the call and what had almost happened before it.
I cleared my throat.
“Late-night reading. That was very convincing.”
She cackled then, a real laugh that made her whole face light up despite her obvious embarrassment.
“Oh God, I’m a terrible daughter. I just lied to my mother.”
“C’mon, you’re just protecting yourself,” I said, starting the car. “There’s a difference.”
She looked at me with something that might have been gratitude, then settled back into the passenger seat, still wrapped in my jacket. Neither of us mentioned what had almost happened, but I could feel the weight of it hanging between us.
Smart, I thought as I pulled out of the parking lot.
Don’t push it, Marley. Let her process.
The drive back to campus was quiet but not uncomfortable, and I found myself taking the longer route without really meaning to, not ready for the night to end.
What the hell is wrong with me? I wondered, glancing at her profile in the passing streetlights. Since when did I take the scenic route? Since when did I care about taking things slow?
But there was something about her that made me want to be…
better, be more careful. She wasn’t like the other women I’d been with.
She wasn’t playing games or looking for casual fun.
She was genuinely confused and curious and vulnerable, and something about that made me want to protect her, even from myself.
“Thank you,” she said quietly as I pulled up in front of her dorm. “For tonight. For… everything.”
“You’re welcome, and thank you for coming with me,” I said, meaning it more than I’d expected to.
She started to shrug out of my jacket, but I stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm.
“Keep it,” I said. “It’s cold, and you’ve got to walk inside.”
And because I like the idea of you having something of mine, I thought but didn’t say.
“But what about you?” she asked, concern evident in her voice.
“I’ll be fine. The car’s warm, and I’ve got a hoodie in the back.” I smiled at her. “Besides, it looks better on you anyway.”
She blushed at that, ducking her head.
“I’ll get it back to you.”
“No rush,” I said. Keep it forever if you want.
She gathered her purse and reached for the door handle, then paused.
“Marley?”
“Yeah?”
“I had a really good time tonight. Even though I was terrified most of the time.” She gave me a small, shy smile. “Thank you for being patient with me.”
Patient. If she only knew how much self-control it had taken not to kiss her senseless in this car, how every instinct I had was screaming at me to follow her upstairs and finish what we’d almost started.
“Anytime, princess,” I said instead.
She got out of the car then, and I watched her walk to the building entrance, my jacket hanging loose around her shoulders. She turned back once to wave, and I lifted my hand in response.
You’re in trouble, Marley. I told myself as I drove away.
Serious trouble.