I sat hunched under the shabby pavilion on the lake’s edge, water dripping from the roof’s sagging beams. My ankle throbbed faintly, but that pain was nothing compared to the discomfort of being stuck here. And, of course, I wasn’t alone.
Marcus leaned back against the wooden support beam, looking far too relaxed given the situation. His hair was plastered to his forehead, droplets sliding down his cheekbones. The smug look on his face told me he was about to say something annoying.
“You know, it’s kind of poetic,” he began, his voice carrying over the drumming rain.
I shot him a glare. “If this is some lame metaphor about us and storms, save it.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “No metaphor. Just saying—it’s ironic how we keep getting stuck together. Feels like fate has a weird sense of humor.”
“Or maybe it’s just bad luck,” I muttered, pulling my jacket tighter around me.
A comfortable silence settled, broken only by the rain and occasional thunder. I hated to admit it, but his presence wasn’t as unbearable as I’d expected.
“Stace,” he said suddenly, his tone serious now.
I stiffened. He never called me that anymore. “What?”
“I’ve been thinking about... us.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, here we go.”
“I’m serious,” he pressed, leaning forward. His eyes, darker in the storm’s dim light, locked onto mine. “I messed things up with you. With Betty. With Brent. Hell, with everyone.”
I shifted uncomfortably, his words dragging up memories I’d rather forget. “It’s ancient history, Marcus. Let’s not—”
“I need to say it,” he interrupted, his voice firmer. “I didn’t treat you right. Back when we were... whatever we were.”
“FUBU?” I supplied with a bitter smile.
He winced but nodded. “Yeah. That. I didn’t realize how much I hurt you until I saw how bitter you got. And I know Betty didn’t make it easier.”
I snorted, brushing rain-soaked hair from my face. “You think I’m bitter because of Betty? Please. I’m bitter because I wasted time thinking you could be anything more than what you were—a jerk with a pretty face.”
His smirk faded, replaced by something softer, almost apologetic. “Fair enough. But you deserve better than that. I just... I wanted to say sorry. For all of it.”
The words hung in the air between us, heavier than the rain.
“Why now?” I asked, my voice quieter. “Why apologize now, after all this time?”
“Because I’m tired of carrying it around,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to the wet planks beneath us. “And because I see how much you’ve changed. You’re not the Stacey I used to know. You’re stronger now. Smarter. And I don’t want to be the reason you doubt yourself.”
I swallowed hard, his words cutting deeper than I’d expected. For a moment, I hated him for seeing through the cracks in my armor.
“I never loved you,” I blurted out, my voice trembling. “I thought I did, but... I didn’t. And maybe that’s why it hurt so much when you chose Betty. Because it wasn’t even about love—it was about pride.”
He looked up at me, surprised but not judgmental. “I get that.”
“Do you?” I challenged, my voice sharp. “Because you didn’t just pick her over me. You picked her over everyone. Even Brent. And don’t pretend you didn’t know how much that hurt him.”
He sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. “I know. I messed up with him too. I was so caught up in my own shit, trying to prove something, that I didn’t care who I hurt.”
For the first time in years, I saw Marcus not as the arrogant, untouchable guy I’d once crushed on, but as someone... human. Flawed. Regretful.
“Thanks for saying that,” I said finally, my voice softer now. “Even if it’s long overdue.”
A faint smile tugged at his lips. “Don’t get used to it. Apologies aren’t really my thing.”
“Shocker,” I muttered, but there was no heat in my tone.
The rain continued to pour, but somehow, the storm between us had quieted.