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

bad for her. She couldn’t go back inside, and she couldn’t go home.

Darn it.

Marianne sat down by Monkey Baby in the dirt, taking deep breaths, hoping that the blush she could feel on her cheeks would go away quickly. Danielle’s lawn was always green and neatly trimmed, but she kept a plot of dirt unplanted for the kids to play in, something about keeping their immune system up. To distract herself from the lingering temptation to run home, Marianne threw herself into the baby’s game (if repeatedly digging and refilling a hole could be called a game). And anyway, it hadn’t been that bad. She’d only been joking. She’d come off as funny and cute. It wasn’t obvious at all to Patrick that she’d been knocked into idiocy by his gorgeousness.

Mmm-hm.

The oldest girl and another toddler soon joined Marianne and Monkey Baby. The girl was called Beth—or Big-Mouthed-Beth, if you were her mother. Everyone had forgotten the toddler’s legal name by now; he just went by Wolverine. The four of them had dug the hole a foot deep within minutes.

“Marianne,” said Beth as they worked. “Isn’t my uncle so big?” She blew her overgrown bangs out of her eyes and smiled, showing her mismatched mouth full of teeth.

“Yes.”

“And doesn’t he have nice hair?”

“Yes,” said Marianne. Beth needed to shut up.

“Aren’t you so glad he’s going to live here?” said Beth, with an unbearably cute little clap. Marianne wanted to hose her mouth out.

Way too soon, Danielle and her superfly brother came outside. Without lifting her head, Marianne watched Patrick walk across the yard to his truck. Maybe she had some sort of freaky pheromone imbalance, because she could feel his exact distance from her, like he was pinging her with a pellet gun every few steps.

Danielle made a beeline for the hole. “Hey,” she said. “I thought you must have heard your mommy calling you home for dinner.”

Marianne smiled at her. “Actually, it was the screams coming from all your unattended children.”

“Don’t worry about it, hon. I covered for you.” Danielle reached out a hand and pulled Marianne to her feet. “I told him you always have stars in your eyes like that. Special contacts.”

“Was it that obvious?”

“It looked like an asthma attack.”

Marianne would have buried her face in her hands, but she didn’t want Patrick to see her freaking out. She picked intently at a loose thread on her pants pocket, instead. “Um,” she said. “How old is your brother?”

“Twenty-three,” said Danielle. “But seriously, Marianne, that was pretty funky.”

“I know. I spazzed.” Marianne did cover her face then. “He really did touch my ass, though.”

“You totally spazzed,” said Danielle. “Patrick said he’s never met someone so awkward.”

Marianne looked up through her fingers. “He said that?”

“No.”

“Because you know this is all your fault,” said Marianne. “You should have warned me about how your brother looked. He’s hotter than the Hoff.”

“Who’s the Hoff?”

“Should I go talk to him?” Marianne looked over at Patrick. “David Hasselhoff. It was a joke.”

“He’s going to live next door to you, so yeah. You should go talk to him.”

“So, like—tomorrow?”

Danielle rolled her eyes. “Go now, idiot.”

Marianne looked toward Patrick’s truck. Danielle was right. She had to go sweet talk her way out of what she’d just done. Shouldn’t be too hard. Just don’t act like a desperate, boy-crazy moron. Easy. Marianne whimpered dramatically, took a deep breath, and walked down the driveway.

3

Fattractive Untruths

Patrick was leaning over the side of his white truck, lifting boxes out of the bed, and stacking them on the sidewalk. He could reach just fine even though it was a full-sized truck. He looked up when he saw Marianne approaching, but didn’t stop working.

Marianne took another deep breath. If she went back now, the dread of seeing him next would rot out her spleen or something. Okay. She’d play it off light. Joke around a bit, restore her reputation, and walk away. Oh, and she was not going to get all flustered and start crying—that was integral to the plan.

She walked up to the side of the truck and knocked on the side. “Pardon me, good sir,” she said in a theatrically formal voice. “Sorry for the imposition, but might I have a moment of your time?”

Cheesy. Bad. Wow.

Patrick put down the box he was holding and studied her face. She was afraid for a second that she would see the usual you-scare-me look on his face, but he smiled back and bowed slightly. “Certainly, miss. How can I help you?”

Marianne let out her breath. “Well, sir—I’ve come all this way to assure you, most sincerely, that you did not, in fact, grab my ass.”

Patrick laughed awkwardly and dropped his faux-formal stance, “Okay, good. You were falling—I don’t know where my hands were—I was really nervous after you said that.”

Marianne shook her head. “You can relax. I thought you knew what had happened, and I was exaggerating to be funny.”

“What did happen?”

“You lightly brushed me—that’s all.”

“I am so sorry.” He smiled at her and shook his head. “I promise it wasn’t intentional.”

“Oh, I know—that would be so gross,” laughed Marianne. Wait… that came off kind of rude. Marianne stopped laughing. “I didn’t mean it like that. That sounded mean.”

Patrick looked down. “It’s okay.”

“No, seriously...” Marianne took a step forward. “I meant that it would be gross for a stranger to grab my ass. But you, yourself, are fine.”

Patrick raised his eyebrows at her.

“No!” shouted Marianne. She stepped back three paces. “I don’t mean that I want you to grab my ass. I just meant that you’re not gross. You know, as a person. Because you’re not. You’re more than not.” Move on, Marianne. She bit her lip and prayed for coherency. “I just don’t want anyone to grab my ass without permission, you know?” She’d just said ass, like, twenty-seven times. My word.

Patrick looked at her as if she was insane. “So, let me get this straight. The next time I grab your ass, you want me to ask first?”

“Yes—I mean,