If you missed part one of Melody’s story, go ahead and click here to start from the beginning.
If you want to go back and read part 2 of Melody’s story, click here.
“Why didn’t I know you could dance?” Marco cornered Mel on her way to breakfast. “I thought I knew everything about you.”
Mel rolled her eyes as she folded her arms. “Why would you know? When and why would I have told you anything personal about me, Marco?”
“When did you start dancing?” He persisted. “Wait. How does my mom know?”
“I talked to your mom, Marco. We are more friends than you and I have been for years.” Mel shrugged. “I started dancing when I was 7. My mom put me in a ballet class because all of her friends had put their daughters in one.”
“7?”
His flabbergasted face had Mel laughing. “Sorry to tweak your world. You don’t really know me.”
“Yes I do.” Marco’s eyes flashed. “I do know you.”
“How?” She challenged.
“I…I am a brilliant observer.”
Mel moved around him. “So you are finally admitting that you are a creeper. Kudos.”
He growled as he fell into step beside her. However he came to an abrupt halt, dragging her into a nearby corner when his mom called out, “Marco, Violeta is here to see you.”
Mel shook him off. “Sounds like you have company. I’m off to breakfast.”
Before she could leave the sheltered confines of the curtained corner, Marco snatched her arm tightly.
“Don’t.” He whispered.
“Who’s Violeta?” Mel’s interest was piqued as he pushed himself further back into the corner, as if he could convince the wall to let him sink into it.
He shook his head. “New neighbor.”
“And you don’t like her either?” Mel laughed. “I might as well go meet her.”
“No!”
His emphatic response gave her pause. This was not normal Marco behavior. Where had the overconfident, brazen, surprisingly flirtatious guy gone?
“What is wrong with you?” She whispered, no longer trying to leave. She softly laid a hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright?”
A spark of something lit his eyes for a moment as he looked into her face but it was quickly squashed by a melodic, lilting voice that seemed to echo along the corridor.
“Marco.”
Mel shivered. Whoever this Violeta person was, she had a thing for her new neighbor. Her low voice seemed a mix of seductive minx and psychotic serial killer.
“Is that her?” Mel whispered, stunned to realize that somehow the hand she had placed on Marco’s shoulder had somehow ended up tightly pressed in his own hand, their fingers interlocked and almost intimate. Mel couldn’t process her surprising feelings that surged from her now tingling hand and arm.
“We can’t hide in here forever.” Mel tugged on his hand gently. “Introduce me to your neighbor. Pull out that cocky, bad boy attitude I’ve seen for years now and get out there.
His eyes locked on hers and he straightened. There was something quixotic about the way he morphed into the Marco she had known over the past few summers. “I want to kiss you, Melody Carmichael.”
“In your dreams, Marco MacCallister.” She whispered back with a smile.
“That’s not a no.” He inched closer.
Mel used his momentum to yank him out from behind the curtains and down the hall. He didn’t let go of her hand though. Turning the corner they were met by a girl their same age, slinking down the hall with cat-like fluidity. Mel was surprised she could manage any sort of gracefulness with the towering heels she was wearing, but she did.
“Marco.” She purred, ignoring Mel completely. “It has been far too long, darling. My parents insisted we stop over in Paris for a quick shopping spree. And how could I say no? Please do not be angry that we had to be apart for so long.” She pinched his cheek and pulled him in for a swift lip-smacking kiss. “Don’t worry, my dearest, for I will insist you come along with us on our next trip. I cannot bear to be apart from you again.”
Mel stood there shocked, watching as Marco stiffened and froze. It wasn’t until Mel squeezed his hand that was still interwoven with hers that he shook himself free and took a large step back.
“Violeta.” His voice was sharp. “You know we aren’t together. I won’t be going anywhere with you or your family.” His voice turned to warm honey as he continued. “I’ll be far too busy weighing my options. Haven’t you heard? My parents are only inviting the elite over for dinners. I’ll have a wonderful array of lovelies to kiss from.” He paused with a feral smile. “I mean pick from.”
Violeta’s eyes narrowed for a blink of an eye before turning on Mel, her gaze skittering sharply over their clasped hands. “And is this kissing buddy number one?”
Mel opened her mouth to put the arrogant girl in her place but Marco beat her to it, pulling her behind him.
“This is Melody Carmichael. You will never speak to her or of her again with such disrespect.”
Hatred shimmered out of Violeta’s eyes at Mel. “She must not be very important. I’ve never heard of her. Is she your maid? You know what I’ve said about kissing the help. So unbecoming.”
Mel saw Marco’s shoulders stiffen with rage and pulled on his hand. When he glanced back at her she shot him a soft smile. “She obviously doesn’t know what she is talking about or who she is talking to. I don’t need her validation to know who I am. Walk with me in the garden?”
Mel was once again stunned at how quickly Marco transformed, this time from rage to sweet and considerate.
“You want to go on a walk with me?” His voice was back to the playful bantering tone he had greeted her with when she had first arrived. “Lucky me.”
He completely ignored Violeta as he turned and escorted Mel out to the back patio, his eyes only on her.
Mel, however, could not resist glancing back at the girl who still stood there staring in shock. “You may want to look up my name. It may be useful information, neighbor.” Looking back up into Marco’s eyes, a flutter shot down her spine as she whispered, “You owe me.”
His velvety laugh tore into her already weakening wall. “Could I pay you back with a kiss?”
“And become kissing buddy number one? No.” She shook her head with a laugh. “I’m sure I’ll think of something though.”
Marco’s eyes snared hers as he became instantly serious. “When I kiss you, Melody Carmichael, you’ll know that you are far more than a kissing buddy ever could be.”
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