Marianne Elizabeth Hammer (top young adult novels TXT) 📖

Darn it. He knew. She slid the shoe across the wood floor and turned her face away. “Um,” she swallowed, “I’m just gonna go home.” He didn’t need to witness this. She rolled over onto her knees and started to stand up.

Patrick leaned forward and caught her hand before she could get to her feet. “Wait, what?” he said. “Are you crying?”

“Gnope,” she said, totally failing to enunciate. She kept her face turned toward the door and tried to pull her hand away.

“Wait, please,” he said, tugging at her hand. His voice sounded a little desperate, and Marianne turned to look at him before she could stop herself. His mouth dropped open when he saw her face. “Oh, no,” he whispered.

Marianne’s face crumpled at that. Why was it that every time she was horrible to him he just got nicer? “I’m so sorry,” she mouthed, not able to get any proper sounds out.

“Hey, hey, hey.” He pulled her toward him a little, and she walked forward on her knees till she was directly in front of him. “What on earth do you have to be sorry about?” he whispered. “That you were startled? Marianne?” He tipped her face up because she was still refusing to look at him. “I’m not angry. Did you think I was angry?”

Marianne shrugged one shoulder.

“No.” Patrick put both hands on the sides of her head. “I was embarrassed. I didn’t know what to say… I… Anyone would scream if they were attacked like that.”

Marianne laughed and covered her face with her hands. “You didn’t attack me,” she said, punctuating the sentence with a sob. How ridiculous. She just couldn’t get control. “You never do anything wrong, but I’m always being mean to you.” She was crying in full now, distorting half her words. “I don’t know what to do; I don’t know how to act. I’m always messing up and—”

“What are you talking about?” he said, cutting her off. “I’m so sorry. Don’t say these things.” He moved his hand down over her hair and onto the back of her neck.

And that broke it all loose. Any shred of composure she’d had deserted her when he touched her neck. Marianne dropped her head and started sobbing like a total idiot, her body shaking all over. Patrick got to his feet and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her up to sit next to him, then put his arms tight around her.

“Shh,” he whispered against her hair. “Please don’t cry. I never meant to make you feel this way.”

“You didn’t!” said Marianne, trying halfheartedly pull back. “Don’t feel bad for me; I’m just being a baby. I’m a mess, and I should go home and just leave you alone so you don’t—”

“It’s okay,” he said, lowering her head down against his shoulder. “Shh. Just don’t say anything. You don’t have to say anything.”

Marianne turned farther towards him and buried her face in his shirt. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. Sorry for being weird and hysterical, and sorry for forcing him to comfort her about it. “I’m sorry.”

“Shh.” He spoke into her hair. “It’s okay. You don’t need to say anything.” He held her there for several minutes, just leaning his head against hers, letting her cry like a crazy person. He didn’t seem as if he wanted her to leave; he didn’t try to get her to pull it together. His free hand brushed her arm, the side of her face. It was a far-fetched idea, but he even seemed to like having her there; at least that’s how it felt. His arms were just so… so supportive, or something. When most people embraced her, it was tentative, as if the person were afraid to touch her too much. This was not that. There was no restriction, no shyness.

Marianne’s breathing got a stable rhythm again, and she reached up to dry her face with the sleeves of her pajamas. She took a deep breath and wrapped her arms around his neck, squeezing him as hard as she could. She wasn’t sure exactly what she was doing, only that this was the moment to do it. Her heart was pumping so hard that she could feel it against her ribs. “Patrick...” she whispered in his ear. “I lied to you.”

“You did?” he said softly. He tried to look at her, but she was too close.

Marianne put her face on his neck. “I was upset about Danielle, but I told you I wasn’t.” She felt him nod. “And...” Marianne closed her eyes. “I was embarrassed last night.”

“Me, too.”

Marianne lifted her head a few inches, so her mouth was by his ear again, but she couldn’t speak now. He smelled like shampoo and toothpaste. Patrick turned his head, and Marianne couldn’t breathe anymore. He touched his forehead to hers, his lips resting softly near the side of her mouth. Marianne moved her mouth a fraction of an inch toward his.

She didn’t scream when he kissed her this time.

Marianne kept her eyes closed and kissed him back, though she had no idea how to do it properly. Her fingers touched the edge of his messy, damp hair. Patrick paused for a second, and Marianne froze.

He sucked in an unsteady breath and then kissed her again. At that point, she stopped worrying that she was underperforming. His willingness was evident, even to her. He moved slowly, but with enough intensity to make her want to sob again. The perfect balance. He did everything well. He made the world okay again. Marianne shifted her foot and hit something plastic under a stack of laundry on the floor. It made an earsplitting, mournful noise, like a velociraptor.

Patrick laughed against her lips. “Stupid thing,” he said. He leaned away and pulled the toy out from under the clothes. He smiled at her and stuck the little Godzilla right in her face.

She leaned away from her attacker and laughed. “Why do you have that?”

“It’s Mickey’s,” he said defensively. “The little brat probably