Marianne by Elizabeth Hammer (best books to read in life TXT) 📕

Patrick stood under the patio, leaning on the aluminum support post. He’d shaved already and changed his clothes. He wore a white t-shirt, black Dickies, and socks. That was super fast—Marianne didn’t know that there were any telephone booths nearby.

She set her canvas bag down on the patio table and pulled the sleeves of her peach sweater down into her palms. She was fairly confident in her skills, but she was getting nervous, anyway. Patrick walked over and sat in the chair in front of her. She pulled out her cape and put it over his shoulders.

Patrick looked questioningly at her as she tied her apron. “We don’t have to do this now. I’m happy just to sit and talk with you.”

Marianne smiled and misted him in the face with her spray bottle. “I can talk and work. So, just a little shorter? Or do you want something different?”

“I couldn’t care less. You’re the one who has to look at me.”

Marianne wet his hair all over and got out her scissors. She stood behind him and started. “Should I feel guilty for horking someone else’s client, eh?”

“Yeah, you’re a real hoser.”

Marianne snipped away at the top and then pushed Patrick’s head forward to get the back. “Who usually cuts your hair? They did a good job.”

“Some girl from the place I used to live.”

Marianne tried not to accidentally stab him in the neck. “You lived with a girl?”

“And a host of other losers.” Patrick brushed away the hair that had fallen on the cape. “We used to rent a house in Huntington Beach, till I couldn’t handle all the drama anymore and moved out.”

Okay, that situation was mildly better. “Like a soap opera or what?”

“Yeah, except rated R,” said Patrick. “I had my own apartment for a few months after that, but Danielle got so irritated that I would waste my money on myself, that I moved in here.”

Marianne trimmed around the sides. “Well, I’m glad you gave in to her selfish demands.” She leaned down to get a better angle.

Patrick reached back and grabbed her upper arm. He pulled her forward. “Are you?”

Marianne stood at his side and blinked down at him. “Of course.”

He studied her face closely. “Then why are you being so standoffish?”

Marianne rolled the shears off her fingers and into her palm. He was right, but she’d been hoping he hadn’t really noticed. She’d even maneuvered Patrick into a midnight haircut so she would have something to focus on other than him. She was being stupid. But what was she supposed to do, make a move or something?

Marianne smiled sideways at him; it was the best she could do. “I haven’t finished the front, yet.” She brushed his hair forward with her fingers and continued to cut, hardly caring about all the hair getting stuck in the soft yarn of her sweater. It was hard to focus with him watching her face as intently as he did, but she managed to finish.

Marianne tossed her scissors onto the canvas bag, and then fiddled with his damp hair in the front, pushing it to the side. Patrick smiled at her, and whispered, “How did you do?”

She pushed his hair to the right, where she thought it looked best, and then focused on his face. “You look fantastic.” More than fantastic, and the cut didn’t have a dang thing to do with it. “I’m so glad you’re back,” she whispered. There. That was open, right? Now he could take the initiative and she would follow and not draw back this time.

Patrick leaned away a little. “Yeah? Did you miss me or something?” he asked.

Oh, now who was playing hard to get? Punk. He never stopped trying to pry her deepest feelings out into the light. It seemed like he was going to force her to make the first move. Good luck with that.

Marianne reached behind his head and snapped the cape off from around his neck and pulled it slowly forward. “I suppose,” she said breezily.

Patrick stood up and took a step forward, placing himself inches from her. He leaned his head down toward her upturned face, but not far enough. “It’s too bad I got home so late. You look tired.”

Marianne smiled and looked down. “I am a bit tired, actually. I should go get some coffee.” She untied her apron and started gathering her things.

Patrick took the cape from her and shook it out. He walked up right behind her and reached around her to put it in the bag. “Where are you going to get coffee at this time of night?” He leaned even farther over her to put away the spray bottle, hardly touching her.

Marianne had to fight very hard not to lean back a little. “I was thinking Denny’s. But I don’t have my car keys with me,” she said, sighing.

“Mmm... that’s tough.” Patrick brushed her hair off her neck. “I guess I could lend you my truck.”

“Thanks,” she said, swallowing. “But I don’t know how to drive a... truck.” Ah, stupid. She blew that one.

Patrick laughed once and then caught himself. He said softly, “Yeah, they can be tricky. I’ll drive you, but it won’t be free.”

Marianne turned toward him slightly. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well...” Patrick moved his face down to hers. He stared at her mouth for a second, and then whispered, “I can’t think of anything right now. I’ll get back to you.”

Marianne turned away and grinned. “No rush.”

Patrick stepped away and walked over to the back door. He held it open for her, and Marianne walked into the dark kitchen. He shut the door softly behind them. Marianne walked slowly across the room, trying not to stiffen up too much. She felt like she was in a horror movie with her enemy about to pounce out at her from the blackness. She started slightly when Patrick put his hand on the small of her back. “Wait a moment,