Something Blue - Emily Giffin [12]
"Once or twice," he said.
"C'mon. You have a great body. Do you lift? Run?"
He said only if he's being chased. He then proceeded to tell me that he had gone running with a girl the other day, despite his better judgment. "I never should have gone," he said, rubbing his thighs. "I'm still paying for it. And the date went nowhere."
"Was this with Stacy?"
"Who?"
"Stacy. You know, the redhead that you brought to Aureole?"
"Oh! That Stacy. Ancient history."
"Good," I said. "I wasn't a big fan. She was a bore."
Marcus laughed. "She wasn't your brightest bulb."
"So then, who was your jogger girl?" I asked.
"Just this chick."
"Does this chick have a name?"
"Let's call her Wanda."
"Okay. Wanda… So did Wanda give you blow jobs as good as Stacy's?" I asked, proud of my outrageousness.
He smirked, poised for a comeback, but at this point, Dex and Rachel both joined us and I never got my answer, only a sexy little wink. I remember thinking that I wished I could show him my talents in that arena. Not that I really wanted to go down on a groomsman in my wedding party—it was just one of those fleeting thoughts of alcohol-induced attraction.
Sometime after that, my memories of the night end, except for a vague recollection of Dex ushering me out of the bar and an even vaguer memory of puking in a paper bag beside our bed.
I didn't think of Marcus for a couple of days after that, until he called to talk to Dex. I told him Dex was still at work, feeling happy for the opportunity to talk to Marcus.
"He works too much," Marcus said.
"Tell me about it… So how's it going? What's new? Think you stayed out late enough the other night?" I asked. After taking me home, Dex had gone back out with Marcus and they had ended up staying out that night until nearly seven in the morning.
"Oh. Yeah. Sorry about that," he said.
"Did you stay out of trouble?"
"Yeah."
"So you didn't talk to any girls?" I asked.
He laughed. "You know I always talk to the ladies."
I recalled that moment at the bar, my unmistakable attraction to him. "Oh. I know," I said flirtatiously. "So how is Wanda anyway?"
"Wanda?"
"You know. Wanda. The jogger."
"Oh, that Wanda! Right. It didn't work out with Wanda… But I was wondering…"
"Wondering what?" I asked coyly, sensing that he was poised to flirt back with me.
But instead he asked, "What is the deal with Rachel?"
I was stunned to hear him say her name. "What do you mean?"
"Is she dating anyone?"
"No. Why?" I asked, feeling irrationally territorial and a little bit jealous that Marcus was interested in my friend. Perhaps, on some level, I even wished that he were pining after me. It was selfish, given the fact that Rachel was single and I was engaged. But you can't help your feelings.
Marcus continued, "She's pretty hot in that studious way of hers."
"Yeah, she's a cute girl," I said, thinking it was weird to hear her described as hot, although I had recently noticed that she seemed to be improving from our school days and early twenties. I think it was her skin. She didn't have as many lines around her eyes as other girls our age. And on a good day, when she put a little effort into her appeaance, you might even call her pretty. But hot was going too far. "Well, if you want to go out with my friend, you have to go through me," I said jokingly, but actually meaning it. I was going to play gatekeeper on this one for sure.
"Fine… Tell her I'm gonna ask her out. And tell her she'd better say yes. Or else."
"Or else what?"
"Or else it will be the biggest mistake of her life."
"You're that good?"
"Yeah," he said. "Actually, I am that good."
And then I got that wistful pang again. That feeling that