Patrick looked down at his clothes. “What’s my t-shirt got to do with it?”
“I was just adding in scenic details to make the story more interesting.”
He smiled. “Mmm, yeah. It totally helped.” He handed Marianne her ice cream off the glass counter. “Should we walk around?”
“Sounds good.” Marianne followed him outside, ready to have fun again now that she’d washed off all her guilt. “But I’d rather not run into any more of your girlfriends.”
“Aaahh...” He messed up his black hair with his free hand. “Could I have been a worse date tonight?”
Marianne stepped aside to let a group of gangstas strut between them and then stopped altogether. “Well, that’s kind of what I’ve been wondering about.” She took a bite of ice cream.
Patrick just stared.
“What? No!” Marianne crossed the distance between them, so they stood on the side of the walkway by a bench. “I wasn’t talking about you being a bad date. I was only wondering about…” Deep breath. “… whether this is a date at all.”
This time he blinked. And then he just stared.
“Well?” she said.
“Are… are you serious?” He ran a hand through his hair, looking as if he’d been transported to an alien planet.
“Yes. I am.” Marianne pointed at him. “And you need to stop treating me like a crazy person just because—”
“You’re acting like a crazy person,” said Patrick, seeming upset at her for the first time. He put his ice cream down on the bench. “I like you, Marianne,” he said, gesturing toward her with both hands. “I like you, and I want to date you. I really don’t know how I could be clearer.”
“You say that, but—”
“But what?” he said, throwing his hands up.
“If you would stop interrupting,” she snapped, “I could tell you.”
“Oh.” He seemed to calm down. “Go ahead.”
“Okay.” Marianne put her cup down by his and started twisting her hands together. “It’s just that Danielle told me something yesterday, and—”
“Oh, for crying out loud!” He tilted his head up to look at the stars. “I should have known. Danielle is involved. I should have freaking known.”
“You’re interrupting again,” she said.
“Sorry.”
Marianne found herself twisting her hands again. “She told me she’d been pressuring you to ask me out again, and that you kept telling her no.”
“Exactly,” said Patrick. “See? I didn’t ask you for any other reason than—”
“I’m not done,” said Marianne, putting up her finger again. “I’m not going to get through this if you keep running your mouth.”
Patrick nodded.
“You said that you would be willing to ask me again if I really liked you, but…” Marianne stopped talking.
Patrick had put his hand to his head and mumbled, “Oh man…”
Marianne swallowed. “You remember now?” she whispered.
He laughed. “Not exactly.” He laughed again. “But I have a feeling about what’s coming.”
“You said that if I didn’t like you, then you’d rather be spared the, um, effort.”
Patrick crossed his arms and smiled at her. “I don’t remember my exact word, but I most definitely did not say effort.”
Marianne stood up straighter and dropped her hands. “Torture,” she said. “Particular torture.”
He nodded. “Yup, that was it. And that’s very different from effort.”
Now it was Marianne’s turn for an uncomfortable laugh. “I know! It’s worse. I don’t seem so crazy now, do I?”
He shook his head at her, smiling softly. “Marianne, let me ask you something. How did it feel to go out with me tonight thinking that I had some ulterior motive?”
“Um… like crap?”
“Yeah,” he said, smiling bigger. “Might you even call it torture?”
“I guess, but—oh.” Marianne looked down at her shoes.
He nodded. “Exactly. I told her I didn’t want to date you if you didn’t like me. That was the torture I’d rather skip.” He stepped up closer to her. “Are we clear now?”
Marianne didn’t look up. She couldn’t. “Yes,” she said. “And you were perfectly right. That would be torture.”
“Good.” He tipped her chin up with his hand. “Now will you go out with me?”
Marianne smiled. “I guess.”
“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me!” Patrick turned and walked away.
“Wait,” she called, laughing. She ran after him and caught the back of his shirt in her fist. “Yes,” she said. “Yes.”
They walked down the entire length of the mall, eating their melting ice cream, seeming a little less comfortable with each now that things were clear between them. Funny how that happened. Almost as funny as the nasty taste of Marianne’s ice cream. She hadn’t really wanted it in the first place, and she only kept eating because he was. When the ache started to form in her throat, though, she gave up on being polite and dumped it in a trash can.
“Tell me about your school,” said Patrick.
Oh, the fascinating stories she could tell about roller set after roller set. “I want to talk about beauty school as much as you want to talk about electrical work.”
“Accepted,” he said immediately. “What about your family?”
“If I could explain my mother to you, I would. She is unknowable.”
Patrick rolled his eyes. “I mean your whole family.”
“My dad’s family lives out of state and is therefore very boring. My mom’s family lives around here. They’re a little bit more interesting. In fact, my cousin just left a message on my cell phone last week telling me he got his first DUI.”
Patrick stopped walking abruptly and put the heel of his hand on his forehead.
Marianne nodded. “I know. Sweet, right?”
Patrick looked up at her and shook his head.
“What?” She crossed her fingers that Patrick wouldn’t give her any sweet DUI news of his own.
“Cell phone,” he said.
Well, that was a random thing to say. “Pink hippopotamus,” she shouted.
“What?” he said, laughing.
“Oh, sorry,” said Marianne. “I thought we were bringing things to a picnic. You know, I still don’t get that game.”
Patrick put his arm around her shoulder and laughed into her hair. “No, I’m busted. My boss ordered me to get a cell phone this weekend, and I forgot to do it. He’s tired of not being able to get a hold of me on job sites.”
“How annoying of him, forcing you into the future like that.” Marianne leaned against him to turn him in the other direction. She wasn’t brave enough to put her arm around his waist. “Come on. We still have time.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No problem,” she said.
“How about if I make it up to you and take you to a picnic?”
“NO!”
“I’m going to a picnic, and I’m bringing psychotic dinosaurs. What are you bringing?”
“Egg salad?” whined Marianne.
Patrick inhaled through his teeth. “No, I’m sorry. You can’t come.”
Marianne pouted. “I never get to go.”
Patrick stopped outside the wireless phone store. “Listen. I’m bringing pickled dates. What are you bringing?”
“Puffy ducks?”
“No.” He turned to face her. “I’m bringing puffy ducks. What are you bringing?”
“You can’t bring puffy ducks! I thought of those; that’s not fair.”
“You’re not even trying.” He sighed. “No wonder they never let you come.”
Marianne turned in a huff and opened the door to the store. She didn’t want to go to that stupid picnic, anyway. “So, are you getting an iPhone, or what?”
“Something simple. I trash everything I own.”
Marianne walked up to the table and started flipping op
en all the different phones.
Patrick pulled one out as far as it would go on its bungee. “Do you like this one, ducky?”
Marianne gave him a dirty look, then glanced at the phone he was holding. “Ish. How about this one?”
Patrick came over to examine the phone she was fiddling with. He stood behind her, super close, but not touching. She felt like there was an electric shock fence two inches behind her. She couldn’t enjoy the moment, however. She still was too nauseated. “I don’t know how durable it is, though,” she said. “Why don’t you ask the guy about it while I go next door real quick. I need gum.”
“Gum?”
“My mouth is all yucky from the ice cream.” She started to leave but had to come back. “I need to borrow a dollar.”
“That’s right.” He smiled. “I outlawed your purse.” Patrick gave her a five out of his wallet.
“Be right back.” She stuck the money in her pocket and waved bye. He watched her leave, and she waved again as she passed by the front window.
Marianne rushed over to the beauty supply store and bought a pack of gum from the little rack by the checkout. Her tongue felt like a giant slug in the back of her throat. She had to breathe through her nose just to keep from gagging. She hadn’t eaten that much in what seemed like forever. Well... maybe that wasn’t true. She mentally counted her calories as best she could.
Actually, she hadn’t eaten that much at all. She hadn’t gone over her limit. But there was still something illegal about it. Strange. She stopped outside the store to open the gum.
Bing.
She got it. It was that she hadn’t actually wanted to eat at all. It hadn’t been her choice; she’d eaten for Patrick’s sake. She didn’t know why that should matter, but it did. The slug in her throat had seemed to shrink at the Bing, but now he was back. Marianne almost moaned in frustration. Should she ignore it and go back to the cell phones? Or go get rid of the intrusive third-wheel on their date?
Marianne looked around and spotted the restroom. The little stick figure in the skirt was like a sign. Well yes, it was an actual sign, but it was like an omen, too. She ran in.
The women’s restroom was heavily populated, which was annoying. She’d only forced herself to throw up once before, and that in the privacy of her own home. Whatever. If anyone asked, she’d tell them she had the flu; that would send them running. Marianne went into the stall, bolted it shut, and grabbed a bunch of toilet paper to hold over her eyes. She didn’t want her mascara to run when her eyes began to water.
One, two, three. Go.
Her fricking stomach wouldn’t cooperate. She bent lower and used all four fingers.
Success.
Marianne wiped her eyes and her mouth. She put on a sick-looking face and walked out. Surprise, surprise, no one seemed to notice or care. Awesome. She washed her hands and even rinsed out her mouth. Hey, if they didn’t care, she didn’t either. She popped in two pieces of gum, tossed the trash away, and left. Even the air tasted cleaner.
Marianne got back to the store just in time to witness Patrick sign the two-year service contract in his own blood. He grabbed the bag and led her toward the door. He opened it for her. “Did you get lost?”
“Yeah.” She handed him his change and offered him the package. “I’m bringing green gum?”
“Sorry. This picnic’s going to be over before you figure it out.”
Marianne made random guesses all the way back to the truck. “I’m bringing mini...” She paused because Patrick was nodding at her like mad. “Mini marshmallows?”
“So close.” He put the shopping bag on her lap and shut her door.
Marianne unwrapped the phone and charger while Patrick drove out of the lot. “Hey, you got the one I showed you.” She plugged them into the cigarette lighter to charge.
“You have good taste.” He gave her his gorgeous grin. He was so beautiful in the dark. “So, are you going to forget about this lame date and go out with me again?”
Marianne narrowed her eyes at him. “On one condition. I need better hints about the picnic game.”
“Marshmallow yams,” he said immediately. “It has to be something with your initials.”
“What the? That’s not a hint!”
“Oops. I guess I got a little overexcited.”
Marianne smiled and looked out the window. Overexcited was a good thing and completely forgivable.
“You’ve got to work on your communication skills, Marianne York. Was that a yes?”
“Yes.” Marianne picked up the shopping bag and started looking through the paperwork. “Did they give you a good phone number?”
“No.”
She found the number on the top of the first page. “What? Seven million, five hundred eighty-four thousand, nine hundred, and twenty-six is my favorite number. I’m jealous.”
“You’ll remember it then. Good.” He winked at her. “But maybe you should save it on your phone, anyway.”
Marianne pulled her phone out of her purse and input the number. “There we go. Just for caller ID purposes.”
“Sure. Except that I can’t call you because I don’t have your number yet.”
“Do you want my number?”
Patrick looked frustrated again. “Are you for real, Marianne?”
Yes, she was, actually. She shrugged against her place against the door.
Patrick unclipped his new phone from the charger and tossed it into her lap. “Put it in.”
Marianne picked it up and typed in her number. “Okay. Here you go.” She held it out to him. “Welcome to the future,” she said in a low, robotic voice.
Patrick smiled at her. “Nice. I should have that for my voicemail greeting.”
“Oh yeah. You do need a greeting.” Marianne flipped open his phone and pointed to the green button. “Just press this, and it’ll take you to your mailbox.”
“Do it.”
“No, you have to do it.” Marianne snapped the phone closed and tried to hand it to him again. “It’s your phone.”
“But I don’t have your rad android voice.” He looked sideways at her. “Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed.”
“I’m embarrassed.” They’d just pulled up to the house, and Marianne unbuckled her seatbelt. “I hate doing that stuff.”
Patrick killed the engine, but didn’t get out. “I know. You’re a horrible communicator; that’s why you need practice. Go ahead.”
Marianne flipped open his phone roughly and pressed the voicemail button. “You’ll be sorry,” she grumbled. She hit the three button when prompted and spoke in her robot voice again. “This is Patrick’s phone. Just... please leave a... your message.” She pressed one.
Patrick laughed. “That was awful. Just awful.”
Marianne started cracking up. “I told you.”
“Retry.”
Marianne hit three to record again. “Patrick is not available at this time.” She started laughing again. “Leaveyourmessage!”
“Again,” he ordered.
“No, I can’t.” Marianne shook her head and sat upright. “I’m too lame.”
Patrick turned and slung his arm over the back of the middle seat. “Try again. You’re messing up on purpose.”
“Am not.” Marianne cleared her throat and set the phone to record again. “This is...” She hit the one. “Oh, I can’t do it.”
He shook his head. “Of course you can.” He reached over and hit the button to record.
“What do I say?” she whispered.
“This is Patrick Devlin’s phone...”
Marianne cleared her throat and threw herself into robot-mode. “This is Patrick Devlin’s phone. Leave your message, and he will call you back.”
Patrick reached over, hit the end button, and took the phone from her. “Perfect.”
“No, I was late. It had our voices on it.”
Patrick put the phone down on the seat and shook his head. It was completely silent in the truck now. He leaned forwar
d a little and brushed Marianne’s bangs to the side with his hand. “It was perfect,” he whispered.
Marianne swallowed her gum because she didn’t know what else to do. He was looking at her way too intensely. “It should be your voice on there,” she whispered back.
He continued to brush through her hair with his fingers. “I like yours better.”
“You’re crazy.” Marianne couldn’t meet his gaze anymore and looked down. Their knees were almost touching. She could hear her own breathing in the still air of the truck cab.
Patrick ran his fingers slowly down her cheek and cupped her chin. “Marianne...”
He gently lifted up on her chin, and she met his eyes again, cigar-colored eyes reflecting the bluish light from the street lamp. She wanted to reach up and touch his face. She wanted to smile at him. She wanted to tell him how insane he was to look at her the way he was. She wanted to do a lot of things, but she didn’t do anything at all.
Patrick continued to stare at her. He spoke even more softly than before, “Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?”
Marianne shook her head slightly against his hand holding her chin. He brushed his thumb lightly along her bottom lip. She closed her eyes.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
Marianne spun around in shock to look at the window behind her. Danielle’s muffled voice came through the glass. “No funny business!” She popped open the door and stuck her head in. “Just kidding. Did you guys...” Danielle stared past Marianne and her smile faded immediately. “Whoops.”
Silence.
Marianne looked down; she couldn’t make herself look back at Patrick. She realized that her fingernails were digging painfully into her palms and that her pulse was pounding in her ears. Oh, man.
Marianne Page 12
