"I've kept you waiting so long. Tell me what you need, and I'll make it up to you."
Marcus felt a sting of embarrassment at his own eagerness and quickly tried to steer the conversation elsewhere.
"Perfect! I don't have classes today, and I was hoping to find someone to have lunch with, maybe do a little shopping, just talk," Anya said, her face lighting up with a genuine smile.
"…."
He was taken aback. She wanted him to… hang out? All afternoon?
"Just lay it on me. Don't hold back. I might not be much help with the big stuff, but I'm great for small errands and heavy lifting," he said, trying to sound casual.
He wasn't an idiot. As far as he knew, the guy lucky enough to get a solo invitation from Anya for lunch and shopping didn't exist. No, that wasn't right; he existed, he just hadn't shown up yet.
Marcus had tried to orchestrate this very scenario before, but that infuriating Chloe always seemed to appear and torpedo his plans. He'd never once succeeded.
"Can't I just want to have a meal and catch up with an old friend?" Anya looked at him, a playful, wounded expression on her face. "It has been a while."
"No, it's not that, I just… I just…"
He stumbled over his words, his mind racing. He hadn't expected a break like this to just fall into his lap.
"Let's go." Anya gestured for him to walk with her.
"Is it… just us? Where's Chloe?" Marcus's eyes darted around, searching for the fiery-haired 'bodyguard' who held such a deep-seated grudge against him. It wasn't that he had any particular fondness for Chloe.
While he could objectively appreciate her looks and fierce energy, her constant habit of undermining him, especially when he was with Anya, drove him up the wall.
Chloe was Anya's shadow; the two were almost never apart. Since she was conspicuously absent, he had to ask. The last thing he needed was for her to pop out of nowhere and unleash a torrent of scathing remarks.
"Chloe had some things to take care of. She's… not here," Anya said, her voice dropping slightly. A faint blush coloured her cheeks, a shyness that was impossible to miss.
"Chloe's not here? Ah, that's really…"
"…unfortunate," Marcus finished quickly. He had been a split-second away from blurting out "awesome!" but caught himself, remembering the close bond between the two girls. He hastily corrected course.
Anya didn't need to know that internally, Marcus was doing a victory dance.
'Yes! This is it! Just the two of us. This is the exact scenario I was hoping for!'
He gave his own arm a subtle pinch. Was this real? It was. Anya was standing right beside him, a faint, sweet scent of her perfume in the air. He was undeniably, and uniquely, with Anya.
His heart started hammering against his ribs. That old, familiar feeling was intoxicating, even if it was a hopeless kind of crush. It was still a potent, beautiful ache.
"Let's go, Marcus. You're spacing out." Anya waved a hand in front of his face, wondering why he'd suddenly frozen.
"Anya, what are you in the mood for? It's on me. A welcome back to campus lunch."
"You know, I have a serious craving for barbecue. I heard there's a great new rustic place down by the river."
"Okay."
Barbecue? His heart sank. Of all the things to eat. This was a perfect opportunity; they should be at some chic, intimate bistro sharing a meal, or at a quiet cafe with a view, talking over drinks. Not some noisy, rustic joint where the main activities were wiping sauce off your chin and smelling like a smokehouse for the rest of the day. But this was Anya. If it were anyone else, he'd argue and push for his own idea. With Anya, he couldn't muster a protest.
"Wow, look at them. They make such a cute couple."
"Yeah, tell me about it. Some guys have all the luck."
As Marcus and Anya walked away from the main gates, a few students who had been admiring Anya earlier now smiled at the pair, a touch of envy in their eyes.
The other guys, however, who had been drawn in by Anya's presence, watched Marcus with pure, unadulterated resentment. If looks could kill, the daggers in their stares would have sliced him into a dozen pieces.
"This place is… something else," Marcus said, forcing enthusiasm.
Now he understood her choice. A massive new barbecue restaurant, built to look like a rustic lodge, had opened right on the riverfront. Their table was a solid slab of varnished wood, and through the panoramic glass window, the clear water of the river flowed past, a big contrast to the rustic, noisy dining room. It was impressive in its own way, but it was no intimate bistro.
'Way to be out of the loop,' Marcus chided himself. He'd been so buried in the game lately that a place this… thematic… could open and he'd had no idea.
"It's really authentic, don't you think? Chloe told me about it last night."
They ordered a platter, making easy small talk as they dug in. The atmosphere was warm, if a little messy, and surprisingly comfortable.
"Marcus, I heard about you and Serena."
'And there it is. The pleasant mood shattered. Why did she have to bring that up?' His spirits sank like a stone.
"Yeah… we split up."
He didn't want to talk about it. He dropped his gaze, pushing a piece of suddenly dry cornbread around his plate, feeling miserable. But Anya was looking right at him, completely ignoring his discomfort, waiting for a real answer. It put him on edge.
He shoved the crumbly bread in his mouth and grunted a reply.
"Marcus, why?"
He kept his head down, focusing on shredding a piece of pork, and chose silence.
"Marcus, I need to know why. I can't imagine any guy willingly walking away from Serena."
Really? An interrogation? So that was the real agenda. He should have known. He'd wondered why Anya would suddenly seek him out for a friendly chat.
A dark thought crossed his mind. Serena, like Anya, came from old money, a family with serious power and influence. Were they connected? He'd never heard of a link between Anya and Serena before.
"We broke up, that's the reason. If you need a damn reason, it's because I fell out of love with her!"
The words erupted from him in scream, all the suppressed frustration and anger boiling over. He wasn't even mad at Anya, not really. But seeing her, being reminded of her world, of that entire sphere of power and privilege, it all came flooding back; the helplessness he'd felt with Serena.
His ex-girlfriend's father's voice echoed in his memory: "You're a bright young man, a top student at Crestwood. But you are not for my Serena. Our world is not your world. I'm doing you a favour."
'Screw your world, Marcus thought bitterly. Screw not being 'for' her. Serena… god, I miss you.'
And Anya's family was cut from the same cloth. It was that very fact that had always held him back from ever making a real move. In another life, without all that baggage, maybe he would have been with her long ago.
"Marcus, how could you…"
Anya was completely blindsided by his outburst. In her entire life, no one had ever raised their voice to her like that. The shock was absolute.
Anya choked on his name, wanting to lash out, to explain the hurt, but a flood of hot tears stole her voice. They streamed down her face, unchecked.
She had asked those questions, swallowing her own pride, all because she was worried about him. And this was how he repaid her?
The tears fell faster. She stared at him, her dark eyes wide and swimming in a pain so sharp it left her breathless.