And We Danced All Night (A Marcel fanfiction)

Marcel has kept it hidden that his brother is none other than *the* Harry Styles--not because he wants to (because he admires his brother with great respect for what he does), but because he doesn't want to live in his shadow. This, of course, comes with a price: He's not nearly as outgoing as his siblings are. When Samara Deanne comes to the top-level STEM school, where he attends, where will his shaky personality take him? Will she change him for the better?

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3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

If time was slowing down just for me, then it really needed to stop it. Right now.

The one social studies class I had to take, American History, went by slower than I would have liked. I'd could have watched a flower grow, bloom, die, and grow again before the class was half way over, it seemed like. When the bell finally rang, I was out of my seat before anyone could process that the bell had indeed rung.

First, I went to my locker. I didn't need any books for half an hour, so I just dropped all of mine off and grabbed my lunch money. Then, I rushed down the hall. The sooner I got to the cafeteria, the better chance that Samara and I would have a good seat. Lunch times were known to be brutal, especially on the first day of school. Many tables were tagged for the year.

I walked into the cafeteria and scanned it for an empty place. Sweet, I thought to myself. I found a table with no one at it. I ran over and sat down, slinging my bag over the back of the chair. I stood up and looked around for Samara. No sign. I sat back down and sighed. Maybe she as caught up with something.

My phone buzzed. I took it out of my pocket to see a text message from Samara: “I'm running behind. I can't figure out where my locker is! All of these people are driving me insane! Haha. It'll be a few minutes. -Sam.”

I smiled and sent back, “Okay. Just be careful. People are ruthless in the halls before lunch time. I'll meet you outside of the cafeteria, okay?”

A couple of minutes passed, and still no Samara. She sent a text back, “Okay, I'm coming up on the cafeteria now. I'll be looking for you.”

I stood up quickly and ran to the door, just to find Samara coming down the hall. When she finally saw me, she had a big smile on her face. She ran over and grabbed my arm, pulling me into the cafeteria.

“Hey, Marcel,” she said. “So I take it you got the text?”

I nodded. “Ten minutes. It took you ten minutes,” I laughed. “We'll have to figure out a good route for you,”

“How did you get down here so quickly?” she asked.

“My locker's near the cafeteria. All I had to do was a quick run, and I was here,”

She laughed. “Maybe we should share lockers,” she joked.

My heart started to race. “Maybe that would be a good idea. Now we're gonna have to wait for the line to die down before we can get our food,” I looked across the room to find students lined up along the wall, coming around the room.

“Geez, that's a lot of people,” she pointed out. Just then, she reached around and pulled something from her bag: a PopTart. She gave me a look that took everything I had not to laugh at. Her green eyes were filled with laugher as she said, “Good thing I've got a PopTart. It's chocolate-peanut butter. Do you want some?”

“Just a piece, please,” I answered.

“Nonsense,” she said, tearing the package open. “Take one. I don't need all of it,”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course,” She handed over one of the pastries. “Think of it as a 'welcome-a-new-friendship' present,” She took a bit of her PopTart. “Besides, it would be selfish of me to not share something that tastes so good,”

I sighed. When in Rome, do as the Romans do, I guess, I thought to myself. I took a bite of my PopTart and was met with a delicious burst of flavor. She was right; it was really good.

“Thank you, Samara,” I said.

“You're so welcome,” she responded.

The bell ran. Well, shit, we forgot lunch, I thought to myself.

“Don't curse,” Samara reprimanded.

“Sorry,” Had I really said that out loud?

“It's okay,” she forgave.

“You know, there's a little shack about a block or so down the road,” I started. “Maybe after school we can go and get something to eat, since we missed lunch,”

“That sounds like a great idea,” she said. She paused for a second, then added, “Do you drive?”

I pouted, shaking my head. “I've been riding the bus all my life,”

She smiled. “It's okay. I drove to school today, so we can just drive my car up there,”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course,”

A teacher came up to us and said we needed to get to class. We said our goodbyes and went in our opposite directions.

* * *

“So which way do we go?” she asked as we pulled up to the exit from the parking lot.

“Left,” I answered. She made the turn and we were on our way. “So, Samara, tell me about your family,”

“My family,” she started. “Well, my mom actually grew up in the states. She has brown hair and green eyes. It's an odd color combination, I know. She's really into accounting and marketing, and has worked with the likes of Steve Forbes, just to name an example.

“My father, though, he's the fun side of who I am,”

“The fun side?” I asked. “It's the next right,” I pointed out.

“Oh, definitely,” She made the turn and parked. “He's the one who encouraged me to come to England. He's into genetic engineering, and he saw that I had an interest in it. He saw that I had every opportunity to pursue it. He's full Hawaiian, born and raised in Honolulu,”

“Oh, that's awesome! I'm actually getting some certificates finalized for genetic engineering,” I started to ramble. “It's been a really long process. trying to get into the medical industry in such a daunting task, because first people like to underestimate the mind of a seventeen year old to comprehend this kind of science—even though I was fourteen when I became really interested in it-”

“Marcel!” she started to laugh.

I blushed. “Sorry. I ramble too much about this kind of stuff,”

“It's fine,” she laughed. She opened the car door. “I think we ought to go in. Besides, I think it's cute when you ramble. It gets you all flustered, and I like that,”

I gulped. “Y-you do?”

She laughed again. “I'm kidding! But really though, it's kind of cute. It's awesome that you are into genetic engineering too. It's feels good to know that someone is interested in the same things as I am,”

“Me too,” I climbed out of the car and shut the door. “Well, maybe we should go on in. They close at six, so I want to get something and get out,”

She pouted. “I was hoping we could sit and talk awhile-”

“Or we can sit and talk awhile!” I interrupted. God, I'm such an idiot.

She smiled. “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” I smiled. “Besides, I'd like to think of it as a 'getting-to-know-each-other' kind of deal,”

She walked ahead of me. “Well, if it closes at six, like you say, then we need to get in there!”

 

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