Page 29 of Take My Heart
Growing up, my parents were very strict about manners. They were strict about everything. They said I should always present the very best version of myself, which was code for not being myself, but whatever would impress people or at least meet their standards. Having proper etiquette is a standard inmy world, a minimum expectation, and I’m still not great at it. Just the other night, Cam scolded me for using the salad fork instead of the dinner fork at our rehearsal dinner. Nobody even noticed except Cam. No wonder I always felt nervous around him. He was always watching me, waiting to point out my mistakes.
‘Go ahead,’ Brody says, motioning to the table. ‘Put your feet up. I do it all the time.’
I shake my head. ‘I can’t. It’s rude.’
‘According to who? I just told you I don’t care. Go ahead.’
‘I don’t need to. I’m good.’
He sets his beer bottle on the table, without a coaster, and gets up from his chair.
‘What are you doing?’ I fall back on the couch as he lifts my legs up and places my feet on the table.
He smiles at me. ‘You’re really uptight, aren’t you?’
‘No,’ I say defensively.
‘Are you always like this, or is it just because of what happened today?’
‘I’m not uptight,’ I insist.
He stares at me, then laughs a little. ‘I bet you didn’t use my soap.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘In the shower. I bet you wouldn’t use my soap because you thought it had germs.’
‘I used it,’ I say, folding my arms over my chest.
‘Did you really or are you lying?’
‘I’m not lying. It was an accident. I was thinking about what happened today and didn’t realize what I was doing.’
‘And when you realized it, you freaked out.’
‘Maybe a little,’ I mutter.
He laughs again. ‘It’s soap. It’s already clean. You don’t have to worry about germs.’
‘It’s not just that. It’s—’ I stop before I tell him the thoughts I had about him in the shower. Why did my mind even go there? I mean, yes, he’s really hot, but I shouldn’t be thinking about that on my wedding day!
‘It’s what?’ he asks. ‘Why didn’t you want to use it?’ He knows the answer, but he’s not getting me to admit it.
When I don’t say anything, he goes back to the chair to sit down. ‘We should do something.’
‘What would we do? We can’t go anywhere.’
‘Yeah, that’s right.’ He picks up his beer and takes a drink.
I point to the TV. ‘Don’t you want to watch the game?’
‘Not really. They’re so far ahead, it’s basically over.’
Getting up, I go over to the window and look outside. ‘When do you think the snow’s going to end?’
‘They’re saying it’ll go on all night. My dad heard it may not end until Monday.’
I turn away from the window. ‘Monday? The car will be buried by Monday! I’ll never get it out!’
