Sun had started to stream in through the cracks in the blinds of Marcus’ window, causing him to slowly blink awake groggily. The slight weed-hangover he thought he’d be immune to by now kicking in as he gave a soft groan. He started to shift a bit when he felt a familiar weight, glancing over to see your sleeping features, your pretty little head pillowed by his arm. He stilled, leaning back against his pillow, his dark eyes flickering over your peaceful features as you slept. He was pretty damn obsessed with you (not that he’d ever admit it), and considering what a man-whore he used to be, that was saying something.

He could be sweet at times, genuinely sweet. But he also secretly hoped that you wouldn’t wise-up to the fact you were too good for him one day and leave. Another secret he would never admit, not even in the quiet hours of the morning when you were dead asleep as he ran his fingertips over your hair.