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

She stepped back against the door in shock. He couldn’t just walk out on her like that. How dare he confirm her feelings so blatantly? “Where the hell are you going?” she shouted down the dim hallway.

He stopped and looked back. “I don’t know.” Of course he didn’t. Anywhere was fine, so long as he wasn’t with the temptress any longer.

“Well, have fun,” she said. She stepped into the bedroom and shut the door. She stood in the middle of the room, not moving, to see what he’d do. Would he really leave her right now? Which door would he choose? A minute went by, and she heard Patrick choose the front door. He’d left.

She picked up one of Danielle’s heels off the floor and chucked it at the wall as hard as she could. It hit on the soft side, though, and hardly made any noise. That pissed her off so badly that she picked it up and threw it again. She snatched up her bag and put it on the bed. She was outta here. It was one thing to hate your own skin, but this? Grrr.

She scoured the room for any of her stray belongings, put the borrowed stuff from Danielle back where it belonged, and made Patrick’s bed. Then she spent ten minutes spiffing up the house in the places where she’d made a mess. The dishes would have taken too long to wash, so she left them. She zipped up her jacket, grabbed her bag, and opened the front door. The screen was propped open with a rock, and Patrick sat hunched over on the step facing the street.

Frick. Marianne just closed her eyes. He hadn’t gone anywhere at all, and here she was ditching him. When would she learn that he never did anything hurtful? If there was something bothering her, it was her own fault. Always.

Patrick stared at the pavement. “Are you going home?”

Ugh, he didn’t even sound surprised. He’d expected her to pack her bags and leave. She knew that Patrick wouldn’t actually test her on purpose, but she’d failed, anyway. He never should’ve had that expectation in his head. He should have had a girl who would come out to find him. A girl who would come outside to make up with him. Why wasn’t she that girl?

Marianne set her bag down soundlessly on the floor beside her, wishing that she’d never opened the door. Wishing that her veins were filled with warm, human blood instead of cat vomit, as they obviously were. Who had done the rejecting tonight? It was nauseating. She sank down to her knees but didn’t speak. Neither did Patrick. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, poking her fingers into her ribs and digging in. “I’m sorry,” she said.

When Patrick turned around, the look on his face freaked her out. He looked... he looked like that kid she’d seen at Starbucks last week who’d just found out that the new Knight Rider TV show had been canceled. Sad, unbelieving, incapable of speech.

She’d put that look on his face. She really was a leech and a vampire.

Patrick turned away again, and Marianne saw that he was drinking a beer. Number two, out of a six-pack. There was an empty one lying by his foot like he’d been playing a solo game of spin the bottle. She’d never seen him drink before. Patrick tilted his head up to look at the moon. “It’s okay. I won’t be hurt if you want to leave.”

Yes, he would. He was already hurt. “If that’s what you want,” she said.

“Of course not.”

“Then...” Marianne swallowed. “Then what are you doing out here?”

“Thinking. Freezing to death.” He sighed and showed her the beer bottle more clearly. “Doing a horrible job of getting drunk. And hurting your feelings in the process.”

Marianne smiled. Geez, he was sweet. Even in a totally crappy mood, he was honest and thoughtful. If only she could do that. She tilted her head to the side. “Do you want to knock it off now?”

He laughed and hung his head down. “Not really, no.”

Marianne stood up and went to bend over him. She touched his shoulder. “Come inside.”

Patrick didn’t look at her; he just watched his hands as he rolled the bottle between them. “I’ll be in soon.”

Marianne crouched down lower and tried to look at his face. “Can I stay with you?”

“It’s cold.”

“I have a jacket.”

Patrick continued to spin the bottle in his hand. “It’s fine, Marianne. You don’t have to stay out here. I’ll be in in a minute.”

She was starting to get annoyed. “I said that I was fine, and I want to stay.”

“Suit yourself.” He slid the cardboard six-pack closer to her with his foot. “Do you want a beer?”

“Can I hit you over the head with it?”

“Please,” he mumbled.

Marianne laughed quietly and bent over to pick up a bottle. “You throw an awesome pity-party, my friend. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“I do everything well,” he said and took another drink of his beer. Even the way he moped was charming.

Marianne sat down on the step a foot away from him. “Seriously... this whole gala you’ve got going almost rivals one of my own. And I’m good, let me tell you.” Marianne bent around him, looking under his legs for the bottle opener.

Patrick took the beer from her without looking up. He popped the cap off using another unopened bottle from the ground, then handed it back.

“Neat trick,” said Marianne.

“How else am I supposed to impress the chicks?”

He could just breathe in and out; that would do it. She was going to say that but decided to try a different tack. It was manipulative but worth a try. She tried to sound sad. “Oh, I guess I thought you might... I don’t know...”

Patrick finally looked up at her.

Marianne shook her head. “Never mind,” she said quietly.

He creased his eyebrows. “What is it?”

“Well,” she moped. “That’s not your only party trick,