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We circle the block twice before a car pulls up with an Uber logo on the side. With one final sweep of the street, Marcus pulls the door open, climbing in behind me.
“Windy one today, innit?” the driver says.
“Yea. Eccles Library, please,” Marcus says and the car sets off.
I stare out the window, trying to catch a glimpse of anyone that looks like they might be following us.
The car is silent for several minutes as we drive towards the city centre.
Finally, Marcus lets out a big breath as though he’s been holding it this whole time, and rests a reassuring hand on my knee.
“Sorry about my outburst earlier.”
“You don’t need to apologise.”
I can’t help but wonder why we’re going to a library, but decide it’s better not to ask.
As if reading my mind, Marcus turns his gaze from the window to face me. “Do you trust me?”
“Yea, I do,” I say softly, and I mean it.
I don’t have a history of trusting people easily, but even though I barely know Marcus, something with him just… clicks. Like when I’m with him, I’m right where I belong. I’m safe.
He squeezes my leg gently and turns to look back out the window.
Nearly twenty minutes later, the taxi pulls up outside a large, impressive-looking old building. Marcus thanks the driver and we climb out, his hand instinctively reaching for mine as soon as we’re on the pavement, like it’s second nature to him. A warm flutter passes across my chest.
We enter the library, and I instantly love the feel of the building. There’s a large open space on the ground floor, with rounded bookshelves creating a cosy reading space in the middle and an impressive balcony wrapping around the room from the floor above.
Marcus doesn’t slow down, pulling me along with him as he walks in between rows of bookshelves and up a staircase at the back. We emerge on the upper floor balcony and walk past a few rooms with glass doors that all have people in, until we come to one that’s empty. Marcus opens the door and walks in, holding it open for me.
The room is a pleasant meeting space with four chairs on either side of a rectangular wooden table. I sit down as Marcus takes out his phone and starts looking something up.
Several minutes of silence pass by when my curiosity gets the better of me. “Marcus… I do trust you, but… what are we doing here?”
“We need to go away,” he says. “Somewhere they won’t follow us. Give it a few days for all this to blow over.”
My heart starts to race as a red heat flushes across my face, my eyes growing wide.
Go away?That isnotwhat I was expecting him to say at all.
I take a deep breath and realise he’s right.
If they found his car, they would find his house too. Or they’d follow us to it. We’d be sitting ducks.
“What about work?” I ask.
“Can you take some time off?” he says, not lifting his eyes from his phone.
My thoughts race around what Angela and Carter would say. What would Stephen say?
“I think so. I’ll message Angela,” I say, pulling out my phone. A barrage of thoughts fly through my mind so quickly I can barely make sense of them.
Company policy is to request annual leave at least two weeks in advance. I could call in sick, but that wouldn’t be believable. Angela would know something was up. I could say it’s an emergency. A family emergency? A personal emergency? How do I explain whateverthisis?
“How long are you thinking?” I ask.
Marcus is silent for a moment, his eyes fervently moving from side to side as he reads something on his phone. “A week should give it enough time,” he says.