What She Left Us (36 page)

What Marnie really remembered about
that night, the night she met him, was bad choice of underwear. She wasn’t
looking to meet anyone, didn’t consider she might be taking off her Zena jean
shorts and tank top; didn’t think a guy would be pulling her bra straps from
her shoulders to feel the firm flesh of her breasts, to pinch her nipples until
they tightened.

The underwear. The one thing – the
only thing – that held her back. Because she didn’t know if her underwear were
sexy enough for a guy to peel from her hips, to slide down her thighs, to toss
to the floor.

“I can’t.”

“Why?” He nuzzled into her neck,
licking her there, and she melted, smelling beer and cologne. They were both
buzzed. She shivered, in the dimly lit room, on a bed with a guy she hardly
knew. She didn’t know how far it would go, how far he would try to go, how far
she
would let him go.

She wouldn’t go any further. Only
because she was probably wearing her Hanes yellow cotton panties. Instead of
giving him an answer, she felt for his face, and kissed him again, biting his
lower lip and pulling his hands back up to where they had been. That was
feeling pretty incredible anyway, and he was a great kisser.

He hadn’t asked again, and for
that, he won some major points. She liked him.

The party was loud. She remembered
Phil Collins’ song,
Take Me Home
blaring on a tape deck, and him
whispering, “I’d like to take you home.”

She lifted her hips, and although
he kept on his shorts, she could feel him through the denim. He felt big.
Really big. Marnie liked knowing he was so turned on. And Marnie knew if she
stopped him right now, he’d probably call. And that’s what she wanted.

“Stop,” she breathed heavily into
his ear, and nipped at his lobe. “We gotta stop.”

“Why?”

“We just do. You’re turning me on
too much.”

There, she said it. Other times,
with other guys, she said it just to be a flirt. This time she said it because
she meant it. And she really, really didn’t want him to see her yellow cotton
undies. They’d have to wait. Plus, she wasn’t quite sure about his name. She
thought it started with a J.

He rolled off her, frustrated, she
could tell, but then he sighed, leaned onto his elbow, hooked his leg over
hers, and played with the strands of her hair. This gesture felt more intimate
than the kissing and grinding. He exhaled, then looked at her.

“Your eyes are pretty.”

“Oh, come on,” Marnie laughed.
“What kind of crap line is that? They’re brown.”

“No they’re not. They’re
chocolaty.” He stared some more. Kept staring.

Marnie stared back. Like a game. She
decided she wasn’t going to say anything, just wanted to stare into his hazel
eyes.

Finally, “Don’t you want to know my
name?” he asked.

“Do you want to know
mine?”

“I think I’m interested in that,
yes.” He continued to twirl the piece of her hair. “And a lot more. Later.
Okay?”

“Marnie. Marnie’s my name.”

“Marnie. That’s different.”

“Yep.”

“I never knew a Marnie before. That
short for something?”

“Actually, long. For Mar.” She
touched his shoulder, just to feel that he was there and real. His skin was
warm. And tan.

“Mar. I like that. I’m Joe. Short
for Joseph.”

She giggled. “Nice to meet you,
Joe.”

He smiled back at her, and then
settled his head down on the pillow. They were on the bed of one of his
friends, she guessed, because he had led her into the room after the party
started dying down, after the game of “Have You Ever” ended with him asking
her, “Have you ever seen the bedroom here?” Marnie hadn’t even known whose
house it was; she just knew Collette had a friend who knew the kid who was
having the party, and that maybe there would be some cute guys there. Collette
had definitely been right.

“Give me your number?” he asked,
still playing with her hair, tickling her neck with his fingers. It made her
tingle, and she thought of her damned underwear again, wishing they had been
different. Maybe.

She rattled off the number and when
he said he needed to write it down, Marnie replied, “You want to call me,
you’ll remember it.”

“Tell it to me one more time.
Slower.”

Acknowledgments

Thank
you to my best girlfriends ever when it comes to writing: Tricia Garner aka
Swishy and Jess Riley. Without you two, I would be under the covers crying my
heart out more days than you can imagine. You both have talked me off the writing
ledge more than you will ever know.

And to
my beta readers, thank you for taking the time to read
What She Left Us
and for offering great suggestions and support to me: Audra, Carol, Colbey,
Coleen, Kate, Kimberley and Logan.

Thanks
to the amazing Sarah Hansen at
okaycreations.com
for creating the book cover for
What She Left Us
. It is exactly what I
had hoped for.

Thank
you also to the
Booking with Manic
readers and to my Facebook friends who have asked me when I will have a book
out. Without your encouragement, I would never have done this. Thanks also to
those who read
The Cell
Phone Lot
and took the time to write a review and ask for more books by
me. It's you who also encouraged me to keep writing.

Thank
you to Maura Teitelbaum, who called me up one Saturday in January years ago and
wanted to represent my first novel, and to Erin Niumata who also took me under
her agenting wing. You both helped me to believe in my writing and inspired me
to get my work out there. And to Erica Spellman-Silverman for some great advice
on e-publishing. My sincere gratitude to all of you.

If you're
reading this, then I thank YOU also, because you bought this book and hopefully
got to the end and liked it enough to want to read another book by me someday!

Stephanie
Elliot features authors and books at her popular blog,
Booking with Manic
and can be
reached at [email protected]. Her next novel, tentatively titled
Before
the Beginning
, will be available on Kindle summer of 2013. Follow her on
Twitter at
@stephanieelliot
. More
info can be found at
stephanieelliot.com
.