Chapter 16- Marcus

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    This is hopeless.

    I've been standing in front of my closet, half naked, for the past hour. And Nia is going to be here any minute. I groaned, "Fuck my life."

    All we're doing is studying, but here I am, wasting time looking for a damn shirt.

     This will be the first time she's seen me out of that stuffy uniform, and I want her to think I dress well. Do I wear a button down? No, that'll be too formal. Should I wear a t-shirt? I don't want to look sloppy.

    I sighed, pulling another shirt from my closet. I wonder what she'll be wearing, like it matters. She'll look good no matter what. If you can make the traditional East Chapel uniform not look like a frumpy Scottish man's kilt, I'm sure they can look good in anything. I bet her ass would look hot in jeans. 

    I shook my head, trying to remain focused on the task at hand. God, even when she's not here she distracts me.

    "Marcus!"

    I jumped at the sound of my Mom's voice coming through the intercom in my room. Putting in an intercom system was one of my Mom's worst idea, was almost as bad as the time she made us all go vegan. I blame Lavender's parents for that one.

    I clicked the button on the wall, responding, "Yes, Mom."

    "Can you come downstairs, please?" she asked.

    She's here.

    And I'm still half naked.

    "I'll be down in a second." Quickly, I pulled on a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. I slipped on some sneakers and rushed out of the room, but not before spraying myself with some cologne. An essential step, according to my father.

     I took the steps two at a time.

    Dear God, please, let today go well.

    "Mom!" I looked around the living room, there was no Nia or Mom to be found.

    "We're in here, honey," my Mom called from her office down the hall.

    Walking into her office, it was just her and E.J., and I instantly knew what she had called me for. 

    "Mom, do I really have to take pictures of you today?" I asked unable to keep the dread out of my voice. I came all the way downstairs, and Nia's not even here.

    "It's just a few photos Marcus, we'll be done in no time," she said from her new white leather office chair. It was made to look like a throne, ridiculous, but it was a gift from some furniture designer in Italy. "Now go get my camera."

    I sighed, and grabbed the camera from her desk. This is a weekly thing. She's always getting me to take photos for her blog, Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, you name it.

    Having a blogger for a mom isn't the worst thing in the world, I get free photography lessons. And companies send us free stuff sometimes.

    "Make sure you get my good side," she said angling her body to the side.

    I took the first photo. "I always get your good side." You can't capture something that doesn't exist.

    My mom was younger than all my friends' moms, and she was more beautiful too. Nick made sure to tell me so whenever he came over.

    She wore heels to compensate for being so short. Her once long hair had recently been cut, so it now fell right at her shoulders. It had been dyed blonde too, but naturally, her hair was dark brown like mine and E.J.'s. That was one of the only things we had inherited in the looks department.

     E.J. got bored of us, leaving while I took some shots of my mother propped on her desk. He probably went to search for Rosa, so she could fuel his constant need for attention. 

    I handed her the camera so she could look at the photos. She approved of almost all of them.

    Setting the camera down, she stood from her chair smoothing down the fronts of her white pants. "Are you excited for your friend to come over?" she asked putting a little too much emphasis on the word friend. She knows something.

    "Yes." Stressed would be a better word to describe it.

    "Tell me about her?" she said catching me off guard.

    "How do you know it's a girl?" I asked with a raised brow. "It could be a boy?"

    "Since when have you started putting on cologne when one of the guys comes over?" she asked calling my bluff.

    Okay, she got me there.

    "Besides Rosa already told me about her," she smiled. I knew it! I should have known Rosa would tell. We'll see if I confide in her again. "So spill it, honey."

    "Of course, she did," I huffed. "Her names Nia, she just transferred to East Chapel at the beginning of the week."

    "Transfer? Another politician's daughter."

    "No, she's on a scholarship." I still don't feel comfortable telling people that.

    Sitting on the edge of her desk, she crossed her legs. "That's interesting, she must be something to receive a scholarship in the middle of the semester."

    "She's so smart, and she's already on the school newspaper and she just got to our school," I told her. "And she reads a lot."

    "And where does Nia live?" she asked.

    "Uh," I hesitated. "Jefferson Heights..."

    Her eyes widened slightly. "Well, that is quite a...commute," she exhaled. "Does she drive herself?"

    "Her friend drives her," I explained. "She usually has to work after school."

    She looked impressed. "And she works, what doesn't this Nia do?"

    I smiled. I don't know, she seems perfect.

    "Do you like her?"

    There was no use in lying, she already knows I do. "Yes," I replied. "Yes, I do."

    "Does she like you back?"

    "I don't know," I sighed. "There are a lot of other guys trying to get her attention."

    Sam, primarily. I still need to nip that in the bud. But I still had my eye on Thomas. They may just work together on the newspaper, but I have a feeling that he's a threat too.

    "Well, she must like you a little if she's coming here today," my Mom said.

    "She's my chemistry lab partner, so she'd come anyway," I said. "And she's friends with Lavender."

    She told me that she was going to hang out with her after she was done studying with me. From their looks, Lavender and Nia are complete opposites, but they seemed to have formed a fast friendship over the short week that Nia has been at East Chapel.

    "Is she goth?" she asked. "Or emo—I don't know what you kids are calling it nowadays."

    I laughed. "No, she's not. And neither is Lavender." Lavender is just...Lavender. She just likes to wear black, a lot. I'll never forget that stupid rumor Whitney started about her and her parents in elementary school. She told everyone that Lavender's parents were witches and that they cast spells on people. In reality, her parents were just to hippies that like plants and tofu.

    Rosa knocked on the door. "Marcus, your guest is here. And she's very pretty." She smiled.

    Immediately, my heart started racing.

    Mom hopped off her desk. "Oh, I'm so excited," she grinned.

    "Mom, please don't embarrass me," I begged. She likes to overshare. And when I say overshare, I mean she's been known to pull out a naked baby photo or two, or twenty.

    She gasped, placing her hand on her chest. "I wouldn't dream of it."

    She's so full of it. "Mom, please."

    She threw her hands up. "I'll be on my best behavior."

    "Thank you." There will be no naked baby photos today, or ever.

    "Okay, now let's go. I can't wait to meet her, and see what all this talk is about."

    I followed my mom into the living room, wringing my hands nervously. She's really here. I cleaned my room from top to bottom last night. I couldn't sleep, what Nick said about making a move played in my head constantly. While he was attempting to give advice, he never actually told me how to make this "move."

    We found Nia sitting on the couch...with E.J. He sat next to her chatting her head off. Nia, being the angel that she is, indulged him. Whitney never talked to E.J., she pretended like he wasn't there.

    I heard E.J. ask her, "Do you want to watch something on my IPad?"

    Oh, no, not this again.

     I've fallen for that line too many times to count. He draws you in by making you think he's only going to show you one video, but before you know it you've watched eight videos of the same thing. 

    "Mom, do something," I said under my breath.

    "Relax, Marcus. He's just being polite," Mom said, making excuses for him.

    Nia must have heard our footsteps, because she turned around to face us.

    She looked beautiful.

    She had that same glittery stuff my Mom wears on her cheeks, it made her look like she was glowing. It was weird seeing her out of her uniform. She wore a cool pair of printed pants and a pair of Adidas sneakers. Her oversized denim jacket almost swallowed her, but she looked adorable in it.

    "Hi, Nia. I'm Marcus's mother," my mom introduced herself, walking closer to the couch.  

    A look of confusion settled on Nia's face. That happens a lot, my mother doesn't look old enough to have a son my age. She looks more like my older sister, than my mom.

    "Oh, it's nice to meet you, Mrs. Garret," said Nia, as she stood from the couch. Her eyes drifted over to me as she shook my mother's hand. She gave me a small smile.

    I let out a long breath. Wow.

    "Please, call me Ellen."

    Nia's eyes widened. "Oh, I've seen your blog before. My best friend is a huge fan."

    "Really?" I don't know why she's so surprised, she has millions of followers.

    "Yes," Nia replied to her. "She's been trying to get your book for weeks, but it's sold out everywhere."

    "She can have one of my copies. The publisher gave me so many, I'll even sign it for her." Too many—the publisher gave her a hundred copies. Now we have four boxes of The Chic Mom stacked in one of our guest bedrooms.

    "Oh, you don't have to do that," Nia said, politely declining her offer.

    But she insisted. "No, really, I'll give you one so you can take it to her. I won't take no for an answer you have to take it."

    She laughed. "Okay. She's going to love that."

    E.J. stood on the couch, waving his arm around. Rosa is going to be pissed once she sees the footprints.

    "Mama, look what Nia gave me!" There was a thick black band around his wrist, it looks as if it was made of velvet. Did she give him a scrunchie? 

    "I hope that's okay," Nia said to my Mom. "He asked for it, and I just gave it to him."

     Mom smiled, pulling E.J. into her arms. He wrapped his legs around her waist, and his arms around her neck. "It's fine." She told him, "Maybe you can put that hair tie to good use, since you don't want to get a haircut."

    As always, E.J. refused to let any scissors go near his hair.

     "No, Mama, I don't want to cut my hair. I love my hair so much."

    "Not even a trim?" Mom pleaded.

    "No, I won't," he refused.

    I wrapped one of his curls around my finger. "But you could get a haircut like mine." Unlike E.J., I like to keep my hair short, but a little longer on top so it won't be so flat.

    He scrunched up his face. "But I don't want my hair like yours, I want my hair to be long like Tarzan," he said as hair fell into his eyes.  Little does he know there's no electronics in the jungle.

    Mom kissed E.J. on the cheek. "Come on, young Tarzan. I think Rosa has ice cream for us."

    "Can Nia come eat ice cream with us?" asked E.J. Uh, no.

    Mom stepped in before I could. "No, she's here to study with Marcus."

     "Will you play with me when you're done studying?" he asked Nia, laying his signature puppy dog eyes on her. She didn't stand a chance.

    "Of course, I will," Nia said falling right into his trap.

      "I'll save you some ice cream," he exclaimed excitedly, as Mom carried him into the kitchen. He waved, calling goodbye to her.

    What a little con artist? He pulls those puppy dog eyes on everyone he comes across, and it works on most people, except Whitney. But it's just because she doesn't like kids, but she doesn't like most people.

    Turning to Nia, I apologized, "I'm sorry about that. If you couldn't tell he loves attention. He's like that with everyone that comes over."

    "That sucks, I thought I was special," Nia said.

     "But you gave him a gift, that means something," I told her. "You may be his favorite now."

    She chuckled, "I gave him a rubber band."

    "Did you fall for the puppy dog eyes?"

     "How'd you know?" she sighed. I knew it.

    "Because everyone does. E.J. has us all wrapped around his tiny little fingers. But don't let the cute face fool you. He can be a handful."

    "But he's so cute," she said, disbelieving.

    I smirked, shaking my head. "He's already worked his magic on you." I shoved my sweaty hands in my pockets.  Clearing my throat, I asked. "Do you want to head upstairs?"

     She replied. "Yeah, sure."

    We were halfway to my room when I noticed Nia wasn't behind me anymore.

    She had stopped in front of one of our family photos. My dad had his arm wrapped around my shoulder while he held E.J. in his arms. It was from sometime last year, when E.J. wasn't completely against the idea of haircuts.

     I came and stood next to her.

    "Is that your grandpa?" Nia asked as she stared up at the photo.

    I laughed. "Uh, no. That's my dad."

    People mistake my dad for my grandfather so often, I don't even get offended anymore. I understand, he's older, and he looks it. His hair has almost turned completely white, and he had developed more wrinkles. Despite his age, he was still in great health. He works out regularly, I had only just beat his mile time, but he does have decades on me.   

    "I am so sorry, Marcus. I didn't mean to assume anything," Nia apologized.

    "Don't worry about it," I shrugged. "I know my dad's old. He's twenty years older than my mom. They met at the diner my mom worked at, they got married shortly after they met, and a year later they had me.  My dad said that when he saw her, he knew she was the one."

    It's a sappy story really. My mom was unsure of dating someone my dad's age, she didn't want people to think she was a gold digger. But eventually she got over that, and now here we are almost eighteen years later. She still gets dirty looks from the women in the PTA or when we go places as a family.

    "That's so romantic," she commented. "Is he here?"

    "No, he's working out of town for the last few days. But he'll be back sometime today."

    "Oh, what does he do?" she asked.

    "He's the head of a finance company," I explained. "It's a family business, my great grandfather started it and now my dad runs it." He was hoping once I graduate from college I would take over, but I'm shit at math and I hate finance.

    I want to do something more creative. I don't know what yet, but I'm sure I'll figure it out. 

    "That's interesting." It's not, but it's nice of her to pretend.

    Steering the conversation away from my parents, I asked, "What do your parents do?"

    She didn't answer right away. "Uh, they don't work..."

    Huh, that's weird. "Oh, are they retired?" I asked.

    "No, my parents actually passed away when I was in the first grade."

    Oh.

    She visibly tensed, and I felt horrible for bringing it up.

    "I'm sorry, Nia. I wouldn't have brought it up."

     "It's fine, Marcus, you didn't know," she told me. But I still felt terrible. "It was a long time ago, I can talk about it."

    I shifted on my feet, not quite sure what to say. "So who do you live with?"   

    "I live with my Grandma," she smiled, her voice taking on a softness I hadn't heard before. She quickly changed the subject, "Weren't we going to study?"

     "Yes, we were," I said relieved that I hadn't completely ruined everything. "My room is this way."

    A jittery ball of nerves, I opened my bedroom door. Nia walked inside

    "This is your room?" Nia asked looking around.

    "Yes, do you like it?" I asked. 

    "I love it," she stated, walking around. She gravitated towards the large bookcase that lined the wall of my room. I had a feeling she would like that. It was my favorite part of the room.

    Hundreds of books filled the bookshelves embedded in the wall. I haven't read all of them. I may have stolen some from my father's office, but I have every intention of reading them.     

     "Your room is gorgeous," she complimented, staring at the bookcase. 

    "Thanks," I said, going to join her in front the bookcase. "I can't take any credit for it. My mom did most of the decorating."

     I had put my own touches on some things, but she did most of the decorating.

    "Well, she did a fantastic job." Nia ran her hand along the shelf, allowing her fingertips to brush against my books. "Have you read all of these?"

    "Not yet," I admitted. "Some are my Dad's, he gave them to me. He's the one who got me into reading."

    "It was my Grandma for me. She would take me to the library every Saturday morning," she said. She spotted my beloved Harry Potter boxed set, and she reached out to touch it. 

    Rosa got me a special edition set for my tenth birthday. When I was a child my dream was to go to Hogwarts, but who am I kidding, that's still my dream. Not only do I own all the books, but I also have every DVD, and I may own a wand or two.    

     "Have you read Harry Potter before?"

    She looked at me as if I had grown a second head. "Of course, I have! Who hasn't?"

    "Nick, hasn't," I told her leaning against the bookcase. "Sam only got to the second book."

    Nia couldn't believe this.  "I couldn't put them down," she said.

    "Me either. Rosa had to pry them from me."

    Like a true fan, she asked, "What house are you in?"

     "I'm a Ravenclaw," I answered without hesitation. I rep my house proudly.

    "Really?" she asked surprised. "I'm a Hufflepuff. You don't seem like a Ravenclaw."

    "Are you saying I'm not smart?" I asked with a raised brow.

    "No, of course not," she said flustered. "Of course, you're smart, I didn't mean..."

    I couldn't help but laugh at how cute she was. "I'm just kidding, Nia," I chuckled. "I'm a Pottermore approved Ravenclaw."

    Wow, she might actually be perfect.

    And as time goes on and I learn more things about her she just keeps getting better. I could stare at her all day. If I didn't stop myself I would stand here and stare at her all day. "Do you want to study, now?"

    "Yes," she replied, toying with the straps of her bag.

    I took a seat in front of my coffee table, while Nia slipped off her backpack. Last night I sorted and laid out all my notes from the beginning of the semester until now.  Nia sat down next to me, laying her textbook and notebook in front of her.

    "What are his tests like," she asked, flipping to a note filled page. She had highlighted so much of the page, my eyes blurred looking at the brightly colored lines.

    "They're easy enough, there's usually about a hundred

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