Marcella Bellini (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} born_greater) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} nevermore_logs, |
Last night she’d had faceless dreams, which were the ones where she saw dead bodies with missing faces, and when she woke she always had to find a photo of Tragos and look at it, really commit it to memory again, scared she would forget. Kaden didn’t seem to ever forget. Sometimes she saw the blank looks he’d give her when she was smiling or chatting with her family, as if she was desecrating Tragos’ memory by being happy. Tragos wouldn’t have wanted her to be suffering forever, she felt sure of it. It had been 131 days since he passed. She had to move on.
The thing with Cathal was that, apart from being really godsdamn fine, and an amazing kisser, and having a really nice butt- apart from all those things, he was just really nice. He was a dork and he was funny and he was good with his hands (wink) and he was so kind to Kaden, and that was what she wanted. And okay, she was going back to New York in the fall, but what better way to pass her time in Burlington than with a hot summer fling? Later on, she was going to put on her slinkiest dress and highest shoes and go and find him and remind him she was still here.
Wandering down the stairs, Marcie headed into the kitchen where Celeste was preparing dinner. She greeted her mother and scratched her fingers through her hair, twisted into a lopsided messy bun on top. She wasn’t even wearing a bra right now, that’s how lazy she was feeling.
She’d just got started on helping peel the potatoes for dinner when Marco came through with a friendly greeting, then headed out the back door into the garage. Marcie rubbed her nose on the back of her hand. It was taking a good long moment before she realised she could hear her dad talking to someone, and she craned to look out the window.
“Who’s Dad talking to?” she asked, and Celeste looked up.
“Oh, looks like Cathal’s popped round to had a fiddle with the car-”
“OH MY GOD!” Marcie ducked out of sight, looking down at her potato-y hands. “MOM! Why didn’t you tell me!?”
“I didn’t know, sugar- where are you going??” because Marcie was running up the stairs two at a time back to her room.
“DON’T LET HIM LEAVE!”
Fuck fuck fuck! She rummaged through her drawers to find the right outfit. That wiggle dress would be all wrong for the middle of the day in the garage with the car- shit! She didn’t even have mascara on, let alone a proper face- Summer dresses were too pretty, she wanted sexy dammit. Her hair was a nightmare, she’d just have to spray product into it and scrunch it up and call it tousled beachy waves, and wear her tightest figure-hugging jeans, and a black off-the-shoulder cropped tee which left a nice strip of exposed midriff. Checking herself in the mirror, she slowed down enough to apply her makeup properly, because the perfect winged liner couldn’t be rushed. Finishing with a red lipstick and a spritz of perfume, she took a moment to compose herself.
She was Marcella, daughter of the gods. Cathal wouldn’t know what hit him.
Marcie walked casually down the stairs with her phone in her hand as if she’d fully intended to sit down for family dinner looking sexy as fuck. The sink clattered as Celeste dropped a utensil in surprise. “Lord have mercy!”
Marcie finally cracked a little. “Is it too much?” she asked, and Celeste blinked in absolute surprise, until she heard the men laughing in the garage and her mouth opened in realisation.
“Well- well it does look deliberate-”
“Good.” She wanted to look deliberate. She wanted Cathal to know she hadn't changed her mind. She was stepping out of the door in her red open-toed slingback heels before her mother could say anything else, using her fingers to shake out her hair one last time as she stepped into garage.