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

was clear from his face that he’d calmed down. “I really didn’t mean to do that. You were closer than I’d thought.” He apologized again with his expression.

She nodded. “It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it. I was just really worked up.” She let her shoulders sag. “Can we just stop this now?”

He nodded.

They worked their way across the store, mostly in silence or task-related conversation. Very tense. In the frozen food section, Patrick started glancing at her more often, seeming like he wanted to start things up again; but then he got a call from Christian. Maybe that kid really was psychic, and he was doing Marianne a favor. She took the list from Patrick so he could chat as long as he liked without interruption.

Seriously, what was she supposed to say to half the stuff he’d said? She’d never done anything that would make him think she was using him for money. It was ludicrous. And that stuff about her dad—where did he come off calling her a moocher? The only issue he’d brought up that made any sense was the phone thing. But come on! Lying about the phone’s whereabouts was the most insignificant thing she was hiding from him. If he knew anything else about what’d happened at the beach... well... he’d probably throw the whole shopping cart at her. Marianne put a box of dishwasher detergent in the cart and looked toward Patrick at the other end of the aisle. He ended his call and put his phone back in his pocket.

He walked over to her. “Christian’s having a party this Thursday,” he said. “He’s house-sitting for an uncle in Anaheim Hills till Friday, so he’s going to celebrate his birthday in style.”

“Wow.”

Patrick took charge of the cart, and they headed over to the dairy section. “The house is right on the edge of a cliff, and the view of the fireworks is amazing.”

“Neat.”

“I’m gonna go,” he said as they walked past the orange juice. “What about you?”

“Yeah, of course.” It was an automatic response. Of course, she was going with him; they were an item.

Patrick didn’t even acknowledge her answer.

Marianne put some butter in the cart. Why did he need to ask? And—also!—why did he ask in such a backward way? Now she regretted answering so quickly; she’d lost the opportunity to make him beg. Or to make him ask politely, at least. Frick. She stopped in front of the shelf of egg cartons, but she couldn’t focus enough to remember Danielle’s specific brand and size preferences at the moment. She crossed her arms and just stared. Okay, forget how he’d asked her to the party. She wasn’t going to let this get to her. She wasn’t. They had enough to fight about.

“Get the pricey ones so we can get out of here,” said Patrick. “She can’t complain about that.”

“Wanna bet?” said Marianne, forcing a normal voice. She lifted a carton of free-range eggs off the metal shelf. “She doesn’t like organic stuff. She thinks it sends a snotty message to anyone who might poke around in her fridge.” She put them in the cart, anyway. She looked up.

Patrick was staring past her in a distracted way, and she followed his gaze. A girl was walking by on the other side of the deli meat. Scratch that. Low rise blue jeans and a g-string were walking by on the other side of the deli meat. And Marianne’s boy just continued to stare.

“I’m right here, you know,” she said quietly.

“What?”

She smiled and batted her eyelashes. “Maybe you could try to be less obvious while I’m standing right next to you. That’d be nice.”

Patrick looked at the g-string, who was halfway to the greeting cards now, then back at Marianne. “I wasn’t...”

She laughed a little, not that it was funny. “It’s all right. I mean, she dresses like that for a reason, right? Who wouldn’t look?”

“That’s not what I—” he fumbled for a second. “I just wasn’t, that’s all.”

“Yeah.” Marianne bit her lip thoughtfully and nodded. “Except that you were.”

Patrick stepped back, throwing his hands up. “I don’t know what to say to you. I wasn’t.”

“Do I look mad?” She thought she was behaving very maturely, actually. “I just want you to wait till later. That’s all.”

“No, you don’t.” Patrick ran his hand through his hair. “You want me to say that I was looking. But I wasn’t.”

Okay, now she was mad. “Hello! I saw you. Just admit it.”

“Gah,” he said between his teeth. He squeezed the back of his neck with his hand. “Only you could find a way to get mad because a guy said he wasn’t looking at chicks.” He dropped his hand and turned away, shaking his head. He picked up a yogurt and stared at it. “I wasn’t,” he repeated in a weary voice.

She wasn’t going to let him turn this back on her. Not this time. “You’re lying to me,” she said.

Patrick looked up at her, slowly, and met her eyes.

She grabbed the handle of the cart. “Milk,” she said. “We need milk.”

Thursday evening, Marianne sat in front of her mirror critiquing her makeup job and her soul. For a girl who had no problems, how was it possible that she had so many problems? At least the Sally problem had disappeared quickly. Turns out, Sally and the gang hadn’t intended to abandon her at all; they hadn’t even seen the cop car. Todd had run back to the Pinto and said that Marianne got a ride with some skater dude. That jackass was a smooth liar; she had to give him that. She stuck her tongue out at her reflection and picked up her lip pencil to fix her lines.

“Sweetheart, are you ready?”

Marianne jumped and spun around. Patrick was standing in her bedroom doorway. “Yeah. Yeah.” She got up and grabbed her bag, totally off kilter because of the tone he’d just used. It seemed like a long time since she’d heard that in his voice.

He