everything.
My insides screamed for me to run; my feet remained rooted to the floor, unshakably frozen.
I had never in my entire life seen two people having sex. Ever. Even in my cinematic exposure, I'd been granted nothing other than choppy editing, eluded lovemaking, and the classic fade-to-black. Everything left to the viewer's imagination.
From their positioning on the bed, all I could see was Marius moving above a waify figure; a crop of white hair plastered with sweat to pale skin. Marius, from behind, moved inside of her with a harsh aggressiveness, hissing through clenched teeth as the girl cried out out, one hand digging fingernails into his back. She gripped the sheets like she was in pain, though I couldn't see her face. Their ragged breath hit my ears like a crashing cymbal. The screams were concentrated and carnal, animalistic. Grabbing her hips, the thrusts became more rapid, frantic as his moans became more of a plea for release than the expression of pleasure.
And although I was a virgin, inexperienced, I stood and listened to the unmistakable sound of an orgasm as Marius gave one last thrust and collapsed. Mattress-springs creaked; both of them sighed.
That was the last thing I heard before I quickly darted away, my hand still covering my mouth long after I slammed the bedroom door shut, fell to my knees, and didn't move until there came a knock on my door.
Marius.
Opening the door, I looked at him from where I sat on the edge of my bed. His hair was a fine mess; he was clad only in a pair of slacks.
Without wasting any time, I extended my hand.
“I've decided to play your game,” I said quietly. “But only because I'm certain that I'll win.”
Marius smirked.
“You do understand what I mean when I say seduce ,” he said carefully. “This isn't about making googly eyes, or holding hands, or even kissing. I don't care how many love notes you write to each other, or how many hearts you draw with his name inside of it.”
I nodded, swallowing.
“Sex,” I answered plainly, grabbing his hand. “I think I get it.”
Marius tightened his grip, shaking my hand like the most cordial of businessmen.
“If you're certain.”
“Oh, I'm certain.”
“Well then,” his murmur was dark, his fixed gaze even darker. “Let the games begin.”
FOUR
When I first met Marius, he had been seated next to me after arriving late to class. His hair was a disheveled frenzy; his tie hung loosely around his neck; his eyes lowered with glossy embarrassment. After the teacher scolded him, she pointed to the empty chair beside me and, much like a dog, ordered him to sit.
He rested his hands, one folded atop the other, on his lap as he listened to the lecture. Periodically, I felt his eyes slowly drift and settle on my frame; only snapping away when he thought I was looking. There was an innocence about it; a genuine interest when he met my focused face that was only feigning attention to the jagged text on the chalkboard.
After class, I confronted him about it.
“Are you okay?” I asked him. “I caught you looking at me.”
Marius, finally realizing that he didn't exactly look the part of a proper school-boy, straightened his tie and smoothed his hair before speaking again.
“Last I checked, it wasn't a crime to look,” he said coolly. “But don't flatter yourself, because it wasn't you I was looking at.”
He leaned in, his fingers running down a lock of hair and removing what appeared to be a piece of dried leaf; caught up, no doubt, from the brisk fall weather. I had walked to school that morning.
“You're welcome,” Marius smiled, pressing the tiny leaf into my palm.
Looking back, it was amazing how only three years had aged him so tremendously. At fifteen, he was still kissed with the gentle sincerity that youth had so handsomely graced him with. It gave his cheeks a wanton glow and his step a certain bounce. His eyes were wide; not in shape, but in inexperience and a yearning for all the
Learning to Kill: Stories