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

few times, grinding the sand. He looked up at her again. “Just in a good way. I’m interested; that’s all I’m trying to say. Very interested. If I was a moron, I might say... like obsessed.” He shrugged and laughed at himself.

“Oh...” Holy crap.

Ben squinted at her again. “Is that… Was that offensive? It was kind of a joke. Was that offensive?”

Probably. She shook her head, though.

“Good.” He looked down again, but not to the ground this time; he looked at her dress. “And... um... you look really nice in that dress. I wanted to tell you that, too.”

Marianne looked down at herself. “Thank you,” she whispered.

He stepped up close to her, bent his head down, and whispered near her face, “Marianne.” She looked up slowly, and Ben kissed her. Just a little. Softly, like he was asking if he could.

No. The answer was no. Marianne pulled back her head a fraction of an inch. As soon as she stopped moving, she knew she hadn’t pulled back quite far enough. She’d left the question open.

Ben paused, watching her face, then just barely touched his lips to hers again, keeping them there as he spoke. “Are you okay with this?”

The answer was still no. Marianne stepped back fully. “I can’t,” she said, choosing her words carefully so they would be gentle to his ego, and yet firm enough for her feelings. He was hot, he was kind, intelligent, and respectful, but the answer was still no.

Ben nodded, rubbing the back of his neck in a signature Patrick move.

She almost wanted to laugh—Ben could try, but there was no comparison. Not even when she was half-wasted. “I can’t,” she said again.

“It’s all right,” he said quietly. He stepped backward toward the car. “Just... someday, when you can… think of me. Okay?”

Wow. “Of course,” she said, smiling a little.

He smiled sideways at her and walked away.

Marianne shook her head as she watched him disappear around the edge of the building. That had gone pretty well, actually. No hurt feelings, no harm… Oh, frick.

He kissed her. He’d actually kissed her.

Breathe. Just breathe.

She hadn’t kissed him back, right? She didn’t think so. It was going to be fine. She’d just confess to Patrick, and it would be fine. He would understand when she told him all the details. He wouldn’t blame her at all, right?

Only, the story would involve bringing up certain, shall we say, factoids... See, Patrick, I was pissed at you because you caught me lying to you, so I got all dressed up like a vampire and got drunk at the beach with a bunch of Goths where this guy told me he’s totally into me since we spend all sorts of time together at Goth parties, and such. And he had the balls to try to kiss me! Can you believe it?!

The lying involved there would be incalculable. What had she done? She was going to have to hold this inside forever. And it was going to fester for eternity. Suffer and fester and fester and suffer…

“Where is everyone?” said Todd, coming out of the bathroom with Marianne’s backpack.

“At the car.” She sounded dead. She pointed through the building toward where the car was parked, two lots away. “They’re waiting for us; everyone else is gone.” All the parking lots were empty now.

Todd stopped and looked at her. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Everything,” she said in that same dead voice, just staring into space. “I just found out I’m the Antichrist.” She looked at him. “I’m Satan incarnate. Do you have any conception of how that would feel?”

He smiled at her, giving her his full attention for the first time in their acquaintance. “Baby, I feel like that all the time.” Just then, something behind her caught his eye, and his whole demeanor changed. “Uh, here’s your bag, Marianne.” He ripped it off his shoulder and flung it at her, then ran around the back side of the bathroom in the direction of the car.

“What?” She picked up the bag and turned around, expecting to see his dad pulling through the gates.

There was nothing.

She started to back away and follow Todd, when a cop car came around the building and halted in front of her, smooth as silk. What the? Oh, shoot—It was after beach curfew. Way after beach curfew.

Oh, frick.

Curfew explained why the cop was here, but it was the least of her worries. That rat bastard had fled, leaving her there with his criminal paraphernalia. She looked back to where Todd had fled, but didn’t even consider following. No way was she going to run from the cops.

She watched the cop get out of his car and looked away again. She looked at the restroom. She looked at the parking lot. She looked at the moon. Everywhere but at the fricking bag of weed in her hands. Oh, frick.

The cop walked up to her, watching her face. He was an older guy, short and bald with a mustache and crinkly Santa Claus eyes. Still, the way he held himself and the unnatural distance he kept from her made him seem scary. “Beach closes at ten PM,” he said without inflection.

“Yeah, uh,” Marianne looked to her left, through the building. “We lost track of time, but we were just leaving.”

“Where did your boyfriend go?”

“He...” Bolted. Fled. Escaped. “Went back to the car.”

He continued to watch her face. “Is that your bag?”

What! Had he seen all of that? Cops must have x-ray vision. “Yes,” she breathed. Lying would only make it worse. Maybe if she was really cooperative, he’d have mercy on her.

He lifted the flashlight in his hand and flicked it on, letting it shine down on the pavement in front of him. “Open the bag for me, please.”

She felt a whimper building up in her chest. “You don’t want me to do that.”

He gestured with the flashlight for her to put the bag down on the ground. “Open the bag, ma’am.”

“But...” She put the bag down on the concrete