unREASONable by Arya Matthews

Track 16

Alexandra

Marshall is acting weird again, and I can’t help wondering whether last night’s kiss was nothing more than a slip in judgment after all. He tried to be nice to me, and as part of the apology, he kissed me. The uncertainty, coupled with the excitement over the festival announcement, threatens to fry my mind.

Halfway through our rowdy breakfast, I decide to stop floating in the ocean of my speculations and ask Marshall about where we stand. It’s better if he admits that our kiss was a mistake. If he does, I’ll pull myself together and behave like a grown-up woman and squash all expectations. If it wasn’t a mistake…

It was. Better not get my hopes up. I can’t afford a crumb of hope.

I open my messaging app and copy Marshall’s number from the group chat, then stare at the screen. Now what? What should I say? Maybe I can come to the matter at hand in some roundabout way.

CJ said there’s a song for me and that we should practice it for that festival we’re going to in March.

MJ: Yes, there is. And get used to sudden announcements like that. It’s Kiera’s favorite thing to do—sign us up for a gig and tell us at the last moment.

My heart speeds up with excitement. The Vipers already picked a song for me! I zero in on that idea. I have a song. I am expected to perform at a festival. Without warning, things have become so much more real. Does it mean…? I scan the guys. Helpful CJ, sneaky Shane, solid Graham, life-hungry Zach, and complicated Marshall, who still hides on the sectional. Do I have a chance of staying with them after all, two out of five notwithstanding?

When can I hear the song?

I glance at the sectional again to see if Marshall would decide to join us. He puts up his feet on the back of the couch and texts me back.

MJ: There are still a couple of rough spots. Be patient.

I re-read the text. It feels like he’s talking about us even though he’s talking about my new song. There are still a couple of rough spots between me and Marshall, and I sure have to be patient. But how? How can I be patient after last night? After seeing so much of his skin this morning. He strutted into the living room in just pajama pants, flaunting his muscled arms and abs and… I have no siblings. I’ve never so much as gone swimming with anyone of the opposite sex but my dad. Marshall’s body has this overwhelming effect on me that I don’t know how to explain. I can’t look at him without feeling warm all over, imagining my hands—

“Looks like you found something to cheer you up.” CJ plucks me out of my fantasies. “Talking to somebody?”

I hide my phone under the table. “A friend.”

Charlie, Elise, and Fiona issue a collective and prying, “Oooh,” and Charlie orders, “Spill. Is he from Russia? Do you have his picture?”

The sectional creaks softly. Marshall comes over and sits next to me because it’s the only empty seat left. “Can we talk about anything else but Alexandra’s countless boyfriends?”

“I don’t have boyfriends,” I sputter in English, and add in Russian, “I never had any.”

“What did she say, Marsh?” Shane asks.

Marshall sends him a dagger of a glare. “How am I supposed to know?”

Shane opens his mouth then closes it right back. I can tell he has blundered somehow.

An awful, sinking feeling squirms in my stomach. “Why are you asking him that?”

Shane’s face turns red as a beet while the rest of the present company sit quietly with varying degrees of oops on their faces.

Shane mumbles, “I thought he heard you better. He’s closer to you than I am.”

I keep my eyes on the younger O’Neal. “Don’t lie. It’s not just that.”

“Didn’t you know Marshall speaks Russian?” Charlie brandishes a conniving grin.

“Charlie, who asked you?” Marshall explodes.

I thought I knew what he looks like when he’s angry. I was wrong. I don’t ever want to see his slender fingers curled into tight fists again.

Charlie seems completely unaffected by his reaction. “What? I bet she was making comments in her native language, hoping to insult you without you understanding, and you robbed her of that. That’s not quite fair now, is it?”

I wish to disappear. I’ve been grouching at him in Russian without a care in the world. I told him to his face that I found him hot. You would’ve never said that if you thought I could understand, would you? He outright teased me about it! A host of choice swear words hangs on the tip of my tongue, but what’s the use now?

CJ attempts to divert everyone’s attention to the previous topic. “There must be someone you left behind in Russia.”

I’m grateful for his thoughtfulness, but it’s like jumping from one slippery stone in the middle of a stream to another. I don’t want to share my past with them, however little there is to share. I don’t want their pity. I just want to be one of them.

“No one,” I say.

“Really?” CJ’s voice is laced with doubt.

“Why are you so persistent?” Marshall asks. “Making sure the path is clear?”

Another collective oooh, but this time all eyes are on CJ.

He looks at me. “What if I am?”

Tense silence webs around us. Even Zach, for once, doesn’t jump in. I search CJ’s smiling brown eyes. Is he serious?

He winks. “Just kidding, relax.”

“Right, right,” Elise teases him across the table.

“I told you before, stop messing around with me,” I say to CJ. “And you.” I glare at Marshall and make sure he sees it. “Stop goading him into annoying me.”

The girls laugh. Marshall does too.

His laughter, lighthearted and pleased, dispels some of my embarrassment. I love his eyes crinkled with joy. Love them. I want to hear him laugh more often, especially at something I say. I want him to think I’m funny and fun to be around.

My phone vibrates in my hand. With everyone returning to their conversations, no one seems to notice our continuing exchange.

MJ: Relax. And if CJ asks you out, go ahead. He always has fun ideas for dates.

I don’t understand what he’s trying to say at all. That is, I comprehend the words and their meaning, but I fail to glimpse the why behind them. Besides, I’m still not over Marshall speaking Russian.

You go on a date with him if he’s so fun.

MJ: Don’t you like him?

I look at Marshall again, trying to see whether he’s asking for himself or for CJ. There’s no obvious emotions, no hints on his face.

What about last night?

Everyone else’s words blur into one fuzzy cloud of sound as I wait for his response. My heart cracks a little with every beat. Beat, crack, beat, crack, beat, a message.

MJ: Shhh.

Marshall’s lips form a scheming smile. How am I supposed to understand that?

After breakfast, we decorate the house, then it’s business as usual for us. I do my best to play and act unaffected, but my mind bubbles with curiosity. Why does Marshall avoid talking about last night?

In the evening, the guys settle in front of the TV with their salads and grilled chicken to watch an American football game, and I take my dinner to the guest house, needing time to come up with some kind of strategy on how to deal with Marshall. I watch chick flicks, sip inordinate amounts of rooibos with half-n-half, pamper my face with an expensive facial mask, and repaint my toenails. Simple things like that help me relax, and while I still have no clue as to what to do about Marshall, I feel better overall. Sometimes a girl just needs a night at home.

I’m almost asleep when my phone buzzes on the nightstand next to my bed.

MJ: You looked tired tonight. Feeling okay?

You exhaust me. Also, how do you speak Russian?

I still want to kick him for making fun of me for so long. I kept muttering to myself… I forbid the embarrassment to reignite.

MJ: Long story.

He adds a smirking emoji to that. That’s all I get? Marshall Jones, world-renowned rock star speaks my language, which isn’t common knowledge, and he acts like it’s no big deal?

For the record, you aren’t cool or good-looking or anything.

MJ: Too late. I know you’ve got it for me bad.

I will not dignify that with an answer. No matter what I say, he’ll use it against me, and I’ve never been good at comebacks.

MJ: Will we see you tomorrow?

This I can spin to my advantage.

Do you want to see me tomorrow?

MJ: We got your new song all finished tonight, for the most part.

Do you want to see me tomorrow?

MJ: Your phone is glitching. It’s sending messages twice.

It’s not. Do YOU want to see me tomorrow?

I climb out of my bed, switch on a side lamp, and sit next to the window. I open it, desperate for a breath of fresh, cold air. There is movement in a glowing window of the house across the yard, a silhouette that can only belong to Marshall. I can imagine him glaring at me so clearly that it makes me laugh.

The phone buzzes again.

MJ: Go to bed.

I was in bed! You woke me up.

This time I get an emoji with its tongue sticking out. He still doesn’t answer though. So I choose to not answer anymore as well.

MJ: I never said it before, but welcome to the band. And here’s your song.

Welcome to the band. I wish I could actually hear him say it, but I guess, this way I can print these words and frame them—a solid proof of that once there was a time when Marshall Jones didn’t hate my involvement with Project Viper.

He attaches a link to the message. I tap it and listen to the song. My song. Devastation, Free of Charge. It’s only a demo, nowhere close to being polished, but I love it from the first beat. The song starts out slow and quiet, with a drizzling of the drums, but after the first verse ends, the chorus explodes with rhythm and double guitars and a whole lot more. The music is phenomenal, but Marshall’s voice is the highlight, as always. I wanted a song all for myself, but I want him to sing it with me. I listen to it four more times before Marshall texts me again.

MJ: Well?

Love it! And I love the title. Sing it with me?

MJ: CJ will sing with you. I’d overpower you.

My excitement snuffs out like a candle in the wind. He sends another text.

MJ: I’m glad you like the song. And yes, I want to see you.

The light in his window goes out, but my heart glows. I close the window and return to bed, then listen to the demo over and over again, relishing every note. More than that, I relish his last words. Marshall wants to see me.