Not Your Normal Geek

Harry, or Marcel as some people know him, has a double life. A secret identity if you will. He has never had a problem keeping both of his lives separate but always worried when anything that could ruin it happened. So how will he react when a spanner is thrown into the works completely out of the blue?
(This is under construction so please bear with the terrible description for now.)

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1. Chapter 1

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

 

He stirs under his bed covers before pulling his phone from underneath his pillow. The alarm went off at the same time each morning, meaning that it was now precisely 6:36 am. He pressed the snooze button and put the device on his bedside locker, like always. After, he turned back on to his side and closed his eyes for an extra nine minutes sleep.

 

In his slumber he looked peaceful, but he was far from it. He looked like he had nothing to worry about, but he really did. Harry, or Marcel as many people knew him as, was no normal man. He was.. different if you haven't already noticed from the fact that he has two names. He was a decent guy, anyone who really knew him knew that, but not a lot of people did.

 

After nine minutes his alarm went off again but this time he didn't press snooze. He slid his finger across the screen of his phone, turning the alarm off completely and pushes himself up so he was sitting on his bed. Groaning, he runs his hands over his face, trying to wake himself up a bit. He runs his hands through his untamed curls, wondering how long it will take him today to gel them down.

 

Slowly, he slides off of his bed and walks into the bathroom is his room in his boxers, never sleeping in much clothing. On the way in, he grabs a towel from the radiator and throws it on top of the closed toilet seat. He turns on the shower, making sure it was on cold, and strips himself of his very little clothing. He steps into the shower and washes himself and his hair quickly, getting out as soon as he is finished.

 

Drying himself with his towel and securing it around his waist, he strolls back into his room, pulling on underwear before dropping his towel and throwing it on to his bed. He pulls open his wardrobe and sighs, 'Here we go again.' He mutters, rolling his eyes, pulling out a horrid pair of suit pants, a shirt and a waistcoat that matches the pants, 'Why do I do this to myself?' He snaps, throwing his clothes on to his bed.

 

Harry has a complicated life. Most people don't have two names or lives. A secret identity, if you will. But I wouldn't feel sorry for him, he draws this on to himself. There is many ways to get out of this, it's not his only choice. I think maybe he likes to complicate things to the max. He tends to keep his lives separate. His colleagues don't know about his live outside of work and his friends certainly don't know about his work life.

 

After he's finished sulking over the way he's chosen to lead his life, he grabs his clothes and puts them on. He stands in front of the full length mirror hung on the wall in his bedroom and adjusts his outfit so everything looks perfect, fitting his usual “work look”. From the back of a chair nearby he grabs a tie that matches the colour of his pants and waistcoat, and wraps it around his neck, knotting it with the standard tie knot. When he's happy with how it looks, he heads back into the bathroom, opening his cabinet and pulling out a tub of hair gel. Using a comb, he dampens his hair again before beginning to slick his hair back with the gel and comb.

 

The amount of hair gel he goes through in a few weeks is completely insane. His curls are so strong and prominent that he needs so much of it to keep them down. He refuses to use hairspray, thinking it's too “girly” for him, yet he uses bobby pins if his hair is being particularly unruly. Which seems to be the situation today. He opens his cabinet again and takes out a piece of cardboard from a cereal box with clips all around the edges. He pulls three off of it and holds them in between his teeth while he figures out how to keep his curls hidden.

 

Why he doesn't leave his curls the way they are, I don't know. Just because he has curly hair it doesn't automatically make him a junkie rocker. Okay, maybe he isn't exactly a junkie. He's just a guy who enjoys an occasional joint or two.. or six. Junkie doesn't really fit him. A junkie is an addict, which he's not. He still has a job and functions properly, doesn't he? He can go without them, and does for the most of the time. He's more of a social smoker than anything.

 

After he finished with his hair he walks into his bedroom again and grabs his phone from his locker. After seeing that the battery percentage is at eleven, he sighs, 'Great, what a fantastic day.' He says sarcastically, grabbing his charger and putting it into his satchel which he brings to work everyday, 'I'll just charge it at work.' He mutters to himself as he pulls out a pair of square, think rimmed glasses from his bag and puts them on. These, he actually needed and weren't just for show. Yes, they were a really weak lens but he used anything he had that separated him from his other life. When he adjusted to the glasses, he slung the strap of the bag over his shoulder.

 

Ready to leave the house, he jogs into the kitchen in his one bedroomed apartment and grabs a banana to et on the way. He pulls a chair out from the table and puts his shoes and socks on before picking up his keys from the table. Taking one final look at his hair in the glass of a picture frame hanging in his hallway, he walked out the front door and locked it afterwards, going down to the ground floor of the apartment complex. He keeps his head down, not making eye contact with anyone, no one around here knowing about this geeky persona, just his edgy rock one.

 

Quickly walking out the front door, he crosses the road and slides into the driver seat of his car. He plugs his phone in to charge to the phone charger that plugs into the cigarette lighter. He puts his keys into the ignition, turning them to start the car and slips into first gear, driving out on to the main road. When he's stopped in a traffic jam, he turns the radio on beginning to sing along with the words of the song. Just when it gets to his favourite part, his phone begins to ring. He glances at the caller ID and swears under his breath, muting the radio. Still in the slow moving jam, he reaches out and grabs the phone, answering it.

 

'Alright mate. What's gotten you up at this time?' He says down the phone line to the caller on the other end while drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, wanting to speed this conversation up.

 

The line stays silent for a few moment before a voice very familiar to Harry suddenly speaks, 'Same to you. But that doesn't matter. I was wondering if you're around at about 1-ish? I need a hand with something.' They say, the sound echoey, telling Harry that he was on speaker phone.

 

He bites his lip, knowing he doesn't finish work until four, worrying that everything might be unravelling before his very eyes, 'Jack, you know I'm not around until six. Always.' He emphasises the “always”, hoping he'll get his point across so he might be able to keep this going a bit longer.

 

Again, there was a prolonged silence between the two, jack breaking the silence this time also, 'Come on, Haz. A mate needs a hand. Can't you just take a break from whatever constantly has you occupied?' Jack asks, his voice very nearly pleading at this point, not bothering to ask what it is that had him so occupied, having done so before and being told to mind his own business on every occasion.

 

Harry closes his eyes, knowing the cars won't move for at least another five minutes, and sighs loudly, trying to think things through. If he gets to work on time he could ask his boss for an extended lunch break or, if he's in a good mood, a half day. Opening his eyes again and moving the car slightly forward, he speaks, 'Fine, but Jack? You owe me big time for this, got it?' He says sternly, showing how much he doesn't want to do this.

 

'Yes! Haz, I really owe you. Thank you. I'll see you at my place at 1.' He spews out before a dial tone fills Harry's ear, signalling the call ended without as much as a “goodbye”. He throws his phone on to the passenger seat, still plugged in and diverts his attention mostly to the road again.

 

He begins to think about how he's going to manage this. He's going to have to leave work, go home, fix his hair and change his clothes, help with whatever it was he would be doing, fix everything again before heading back to work again all in the space of about three hours. That's if he was even granted his extended lunch break.

 

Finally, the traffic disperses and Harry is able to drive to work without getting caught in another jam. He reaches his workplace at around 8:45 am, fifteen minutes early. He grabs his stuff and climbs out of the car, throwing the banana skin into a bin before going inside. He adjusts his glasses one last time and walks in the front doors of the huge building, 'Okay Harry, it's Marcel now.' he thinks to himself, walking to the elevators and pressing the button, waiting for the lift to reach the ground floor. He looks up above the doors to see what floor it was on right now and becomes lost in a world of his own, staring at the numbers descending.

 

Just when the lift arrives and he is about to step inside it he feels a tap on his shoulder and a soft voice saying excuse me. He freezes for a split second, a million thoughts running through his mind. No one ever talked to him here, it was very rare that someone did, especially a girl for that matter. When they did, it was usually because they had to. "Marcel" was the marketing manager and, because of his appearance, he was considered the geeky, socially awkward guy of the office. So the fact that someone was talking to him was a little odd

 

He turns around to face the girl who had previously spoken to him and smiles a little, making sure to show his nervousness, needing to keep his act up, 'Can I help you with something?' He asks, stepping away from the lift so other people could use it while he helped the girl. While waiting for her to answer, he very subtly takes in her appearance. She was a pretty girl, even "Marcel" was allowed to admit that. She was average height, around 5'5" or 5'6", she had red-brown, wavy hair that reached just below her shoulders and the most brilliant sapphire blue eyes that stood out a mile. She was slim but not overly, she looked healthy and she certainly knew how to dress

 

This, was definitely Harry thinking. Not that he degrades girls or anything like that, he's just used to being around them. Which in turn means he knows how girls should dress, even if that made him sound the slightest bit gay. She was in a black pencil skirt that reached just below her knees and she had a plain white blouse tucked in to it which showed off her small waist, on her feet she had a pair of black ballet pumps

 

Her voice breaks him out of his trance as she speaks to him again, 'Yeah, if you don't mind. It's my first day here and I need a bit of help finding my way around.' She smiles at him, showing off her perfectly straight white teeth. He debated whether to say yes or no. Even though he was a bit of an outcast here he couldn't leave her here and expect her to find her way around this huge building on her own. He did however, decide to tell her she might be better off with someone else.

 

'Sure, I can help you but I must warn you, if you're seen with me it's possible no one here will ever talk to you again.' He laughs awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, not even needing to think about who he is supposed to be at this stage.

 

She looks at him, confusion etched clearly on to her features, not sure what he means by that. To her, he doesn't look all that bad. Maybe he dressed a little old fashioned, as some would say, for this day and age but besides that she saw no flaws. The glasses didn't even put her off and they were usually one of the first things that turned people away from him. It's not like he was lacking personal hygiene and had a stench of BO following him around, she wouldn't have asked him otherwise, 'I'm sure they will but even if they don't I'm sure I'll manage without their shallow personalities.' She says, laughing a little as she adjusted the red handbag that was hanging over her shoulder.

 

He looks away from her for a second and bites his lip, thinking about what could happen. The only reason Harry has managed to keep "Marcel" going for so long is because his appearance and faked personality had kept people away from him and he never got to know anyone so no one suspected anything. This though, could really rock the boat a bit. If he shows her around the place that would obviously mean having to communicate in turn meaning she might just get a glimpse of Harry which he has never had to worry about before. And the fact that she is a very pretty girl makes it a hell of a lot worse, Harry is bound to make an appearance at some stage today. Sighing quietly, he turns back to face him and smiles awkwardly again at her, Where is it you needed to go?' He asks politely, pushing the button for the elevator again.

 

He can see that her frame relaxes a little as he agrees to show her where she needs to go. She smiles warmly at him and takes a step forward towards the lift so she is standing next to him, waiting for it to reach the floor they were on now, 'I was told my office is number eighty-four on the twenty-seventh floor.' She says smiling, glancing towards Harry for a moment before looking back at the closed doors again, waiting for his answer.

 

His face loses all of it's colour as his jaw drops open a little, keeping his face forward so she doesn't see. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, before turning to face her as the lift arrives. He walks in through the doors and presses the button with the number 27 next to it, watching the doors close. He once again turns to face her, 'You are Avery? The marketing manager?' He asks, shocked. He thought his new partner would be one of those strict, snobby secretary type people but she didn't look like that type at all. In fact, she seemed the complete opposite.

 

She furrows her brows together and turns to him, confusion once again on her face. She raises an eyebrow at him, not knowing how he knew her name or her position here, 'Yes, I am as a matter of fact. Can I ask who you are and how you know this?' Avery says, looking at the number above the door noticing how they were on floor 15, only twelve floor away from the desired stop. She turns around to face the mirror in the lift behind her, fixing a few stray hairs and blending some bits of the light layer of make-up that she missed earlier, waiting for his answer.

 

His straightens out a few creases in his clothes and toys with his hair for a second, securing some pieces under the clips he had hidden in his hair before turning to Avery again. He extends his hand out towards her as they reached the 27th floor, 'I'm Marcel and you and I shall be working together until one of us leaves, gets promoted, demoted or fired.' He says with a real smile on his face as she takes his hand and shakes it up and down a few times while the doors open. They begin to walk out of the lift as Harry begins to speak again before she can, 'We shall also be sharing an office until any of the previous events listed occur.' He says, walking down the hall and opening the door to his office that would now be shared.

 

It's fair to say that neither of them expected this, Harry especially. He never expected to have to share his office with someone, even when he was told another marketing manger was appointed. Well, he knew they would be sharing he just didn't think it would be so soon, he was only told about it last month. What happened to all this formal, form filling, background check stuff? Well, maybe when the person is a very clean cut, pristine, hard working, well experienced girl the process was shortened. Harry had no idea how he was going to manage this. He would have to adapt to being “Marcel” all the time around her. No more being careless in the office, it would be constant. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for this, there was more to him than met the eye you know.

 

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I'm not going to say much I just want you to leave some feedback PLEASE!!! :D It's the only way I know if you're liking what I'm doing :) Okay, thank you all! Caoimhe x

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