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

She turned and put her hand on his forearm. “Yes, Patrick?”

Patrick left one hand on her back and cupped her face with the other. He stepped up closer to her and leaned down. His nose nearly brushed against hers.

Marianne closed her eyes.

Patrick sucked in a breath and said, “I was just thinking that you should wait here while I get my keys. I wouldn’t want you to trip in the dark.”

That bastard. Marianne started laughing, and Patrick put his forehead against hers. “Shh. I’m serious, Marianne. You’re very clumsy.”

“How considerate of you,” she whispered. “I should probably go wait outside, then.”

He let her go and walked out of the room. “Wait wherever you like. I don’t really care.”

Wow. He was hell-bent on having his way with this. Marianne would make the first move, or nothing would happen. And he was really good at making her want to lose the game. Sure, she could go home without kissing him herself, but the only way to really win would be to get him to do it. That was looking pretty bleak. He was more stubborn than she thought. He held all the power in this relationship.

Patrick met her on the driveway a moment later, shoes on, keys in hand. He unlocked the truck and opened the door for her. She climbed into her awkward spot in the front seat, and they drove off. Patrick stopped at a light and pulled his visor down, revealing the CDs stashed there. “I can offer you Modest Mouse or U2.”

Marianne thought for a moment and said, “Weezer.”

He turned and looked at her sternly. “Is that right?”

Marianne unbuttoned and re-buttoned the bottom of her sweater. “I want what I want.” Let him pull that one out of his stack of four discs.

“Okay. Easier for me.” Patrick flicked the power button on the radio and rested his hand on the back of the seat between them.

“Say It Ain’t So” drifted out of the speaker behind her head. Foiled! She should just give up now. He had a supernatural gift for never losing on any front. Marianne worked her brain the rest of the drive for the perfect plan. Short of taking off choice items of clothing, she didn’t think any of her ideas would work. And no, she wasn’t serious about that one. Not really.

Marianne and Patrick went inside the diner and sat in a sticky red booth across from each other. Patrick ordered two cups of coffee from the harassed-looking waiter. He leaned back in his seat and put his arm up on the back. “So, what did you do tonight?”

Nothing! I stayed home. What?

Marianne exhaled. “I went out with my heartbroken girlfriend.” She leaned forward over the table. “Do you have a gun I could borrow? I only need it for fifteen minutes or so.”

“That bad?” He looked genuinely concerned.

Marianne bared her teeth and choked an imaginary Victor in front of her. “Sally’s boyfriend cheated on her.”

“Sally, the Goth girl from school?”

Marianne nodded. Why’d he have to bring up the Goth part? It made her feel close to a cliff.

“You said that she’s full-on crazy Goth, like Dark Lord Alvin, right?”

Marianne nodded again.

Patrick laughed. “That must have been interesting; having to walk around with someone who looks like that.”

Marianne nodded one more time, hoping that she wasn’t blushing.

“What’s it like, being the only normal one in a group like that?” The way he said normal implied that it was synonymous with sane and stable.

“Um...” Marianne smiled and looked him in right in the eye to cement her lie as firmly as she could. “It’s weird, of course. I just wear black t-shirts so that I don’t stand out too much.”

Patrick smiled. “If you ever figure out what’s going on in their heads, you’ve got to tell me. It’s just so...”

“It’s lame, I know,” said Marianne quickly. “So, anyway... how was your drive?”

“Super.” He looked up when the coffee came and thanked the waiter. “Dinner at the seven-eleven. They had that monstrous rubber ball in a bin by the register. I couldn’t resist.”

Marianne kicked off her flip-flop and swung her legs back and forth. She was so glad to have escaped the last topic. “Did you see your sister yet?”

“No.” Patrick picked up his coffee. “She won’t be speaking to me this week. I’m sure you heard all about it.”

“She hasn’t said anything.” Marianne was almost hurt; she’d seen Danielle just yesterday. “Did you get in a fight?”

Patrick put his coffee down and shook his head. In Marianne’s experience, fights with Danielle were usually stupid, but he seemed depressed. Marianne reached across the table toward his hand but didn’t take it. “What happened? You want me to beat her up?”

“Nuh-uh,” said Patrick. He smiled and moved his hand to cover Marianne’s. “I kind of deserve it, I guess. I answered a call from my mom.”

Marianne knew that Danielle didn’t like her mother, but this seemed a little petty. “You’re not allowed to talk to your mom?”

Patrick rolled his eyes at her, visibly annoyed by the word allowed. “Danielle doesn’t care what I do; I’m just not allowed to tell her everything.”

Marianne got up and sat down on his side of the booth. She bumped him with her hip to scoot him over. “What did you say to her?”

Patrick drummed his fingers on the table. “I think my exact words were, ‘Mom says she loves you.’”

Marianne inhaled sharply. “Yeah, Danielle would not like that.”

Patrick turned in his seat and played with Marianne’s hair. “So she’s talked to you about our mom?” He seemed pleased by the idea of his sister opening up. “That’s good. You’re a good friend for her.”

“I wouldn’t exactly describe it that way.” Marianne grimaced. She hated to disappoint that sweet face. “I’ve just heard Danielle mention her in passing, a few unguarded comments here and there.”

“Did she stub her toe or get a flat tire?”

Marianne had to laugh. Patrick really knew his sister. “I think the washing machine