Truly Madly Deeply: Volumes 1-4

by Brenda Pandos

  “Yet I treat you nicer than he does?”

  I bite the inside of my cheek, recalling what I’d told him yesterday at my doorstep. Why did I mention that? “He gets impatient with me, that’s all.”

  “Really?” Logan clenches his jaw like the notion is unacceptable. “How does he treat your other guy friends?”

  My eyes slide shut for a second and I try not to laugh. What other guy friends? “I don’t really have any.”

  “Seriously?”

  I laugh. “He’s the jealous type, remember?”

  “Do you love him?”

  He looks at me in a way that breaks down my defenses. I bite my lip, wanting so badly to tell him the truth. That Gage cheated on me with my best friend and I’m damaged because of it.

  Yet when confronted directly, my insides scream, and I hate admitting this, because it’s not really a lie. “Yes.”

  “He’s lucky then that you’re so forgiving. You should be treated like a queen.”

  I twist my lips into a smile to hide my disappointment. Every girl should be treated as such.

  “Kat’s lucky.”

  “The luckiest.”

  My insides zing with pain, and I want the subject changed. Luckily, we arrive at the Soap and Suds Laundromat parking lot.

  “And you’re most humble,” I fire back.

  “Don’t forget handsome.”

  He throws the shifter into park and shoots me a smile. I want to hit him, but the thrill zings down my legs, and my toes do that curling thing again. I hate he has me wrapped around his finger.

  Riffling through my ashtray for quarters, I find a few before hopping out. He takes both our bags inside and scouts out the washing machines furthest from the door.

  After I load up three to his one, we look at each other. “I should have brought some cards or something.”

  My phone is practically burning a hole in my pocket, but I’m scared to listen to the messages.

  “Let’s go next door.” He points to the used bookstore.

  “Seriously?”

  “Why does that surprise you?”

  I smirk. “I didn’t peg you for a reading type.”

  He leans in, voice sexy. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me. Come on.”

  We leave our stuff and go next door. The musty smell of paper tickles my nose and makes me smile. I love books. So many times when things got rough growing up, the only thing I looked forward to was whatever story I escaped into that week, and even now it had been the best distraction during the breakup.

  “Have you read this?” He holds up a copy of something I don’t recognize. “You should. It’s awesome.”

  I peruse the thrillers and suspense section and look for my favorite authors. There is so much on my TBR list currently, I’d forbidden myself any more purchases. My fingers linger on an old copy of A Wrinkle in Time. Dad had started reading this to me when I was eight, and I remember that time together fondly.

  Ten minutes pass, and I start to worry about laundry thieves.

  “I’m going to check on the loads, okay?” I say.

  Logan nods, but he’s more interested in riffling through the discounted book bin. I’d never met such a closet book geek before. Maybe he is that gangly boy in disguise he’d pointed out earlier.

  I return to the washers to find they’d stopped, and switch our clothes from the washer to the dryer. There’s something thrilling and dangerous about touching his wet things, especially his boxers.

  I stare at my phone while it’s turning on, hand shaking. The missed calls and messages beep at me once again. I press the dreaded “voicemail” button.

  “Maddy, it’s Gage. You didn’t return my text, so I don’t know if you got it. Call me.”

  I hit delete. He couldn’t come here now, not when I’d lied about us to everyone.

  “Maddy, call me. It’s Gag—”

  I hit delete again.

  The third message is a hang-up. “Douche,” I mumble under my breath.

  “You miss me?”

  I scream and jump, swinging my arm around. My phone flies out of my hand and crashes onto the floor with a sickening crunch.

  “Dammit, Maddy. I’m sorry.” Logan scoops it up. Horror crosses his face. The crack that used to mar the corner from when Gage threw the phone during a fight once, has splintered and spider-webbed the front. “Let me replace it.”

  I switch it on. It flickers to life, but the face is almost unreadable. “It’s okay. My contract is almost up and I can get a newer phone.”

  “When?”

  “August.”

  “Maddy.” He leans over to inspect the damage. “You can barely see anything. Let’s replace it now.”

  I shake my head. “I have a bad habit of busting things, as you can tell.” I gesture to my car. “Maybe it’s time I’m less on the grid like you.”

  “No. I insist.”

  “We don’t have time today. It’s fine.” I shrug, but deep down, I don’t intend on reminding him about his promise.

  “Maybe this will make it up to you until then.” He unloads a stack of books on the washer. “I saw you looking at this.” He hands me the copy of A Wrinkle in Time.

  My insides flower with happiness as I take the book.

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “Flip it open.”

  I flip the book open and gasp. My name is scrawled inside with childlike writing.

  He grins widely. “I couldn’t believe it myself.”

  I rub my finger across the ink. Could this be my copy? I’d lost track of it in one of our moves, but to find it again. This was more precious than Logan could ever know. Before any tears can escape and give away how touched I am, I nod to his stack and swipe at my eyes when he’s not looking.

  “What else did you get?”

  He picks up and raves about each book and the author, thrilled to have found copies that were out of print. “Here, sit down.”

  He takes out a book from his stack and begins to read.

  His voice entrances me as I lean against the washing machine. There’s something sweet yet intimate about it.

  When the buzzer dings on the dryer behind me, I jump. His voice had transported me into a new world, just like it had with my dad.

  I pull out the warm laundry and pile it on the washer. A pair of thong undies fall on the floor.

  I grab them before Logan sees.

  “What’s that?”

  “None of your business.” I feel the heat of my blush and shove them into my bag.

  He begins to fold one of my shirts without asking. “Question: you think it’s the girl’s job or the guy’s job to do the laundry?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I quickly find all my underwear, and stuff them into my bag before he gets any ideas about embarrassing me further. Logan smiles the entire time.

  “Once you cohabitate, I mean.”

  He pinches the shoulder and middle of one of my shirts, then folds it over into a ball. When I think he’s made a mess of it, he pulls on the shirt, and it’s folded in a perfect square.

  I tilt my head. “How’d you do that?”

  “Like this.” He quickly repeats the process.

  I grab a shirt and try, stuck at step number one.

  “Let me help you.” He comes behind me and I’m completely aware of where our bodies are touching and my breathing increases. His lips are next to my ear. “Pinch here, and here, then bring the shirt over, pinching here, and flick.”

  I swallow hard and lean into him, letting him guide my hands through the motions. With a flick of my wrists, the shirt’s folded like his, but I can’t pay attention. Not when he’s so close. I want to feel his lips against my neck, to have them trail my collar bone to my lips, to finally taste him.

  “Perfect.”

  He returns to the pile of clothes, and I work to control my breathing, wishing I’d been a less adept student. “I think you qualify to be shirt folder.”

  He laughs. �
�That’s what I think, too. Kat’s scared to let me touch her laundry. Like I’m going to bleach something accidentally.”

  Kat, right. Deep breaths, Madison. “Have you ruined her laundry before?”

  “Haven’t had the chance. So then what about the cooking?”

  I watch him fold a few more shirts, before trying it again, and I still can’t do it. “I don’t think that’s necessarily a girl or guy job. You should work together to get things done.”

  “And the dishes?”

  “Likewise.” Though I’d do his dishes forever if he wanted me to.

  The buzzer dings on the dryer. While his back is turned, I fold my shirts the old school way. My fingers, like my tongue, are tied from his touch.

  “What’s this?”

  He pulls a black pair of lacy underwear out of his load of laundry and dangles them before me. My smile fades as I lunge for the stray pair that somehow defected from my laundry. He holds them out of my reach.

  “How’d you know black was my favorite color?”

  I try to grab his arm, but he’s too strong for me to steal back my underwear. I give up and put my hands on my hips. “Having fun?”

  “Yes.” He grins while my cheeks practically ignite. “Will you wear them for me later?”

  I give him a hot sexy leer and cock my head. “You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

  His eyes smolder and desire crosses deep within them. They lose focus for a minute, and I know he’s imagining me, and my belly tickles. I shut it all down before things go too far in my hopeful imagination.

  “Or did you want to try them on?”

  That breaks the trance, and he hands them to me. I lay them out, and attempt to fold them like the shirt, before shoving them into my bag just to prove I’m not embarrassed.

  “Works on underwear, too,” I say.

  “I only know how to wad them in a ball.”

  My cheeks heat again. He’s so not playing fair. “That’s too bad. Now I can’t hire you to be my laundress.”

  He watches me for a second, and the air is thick with more than the smell of laundry soap and steam.

  I busy my idle hands with the rest of the load, and retrieve the towels from the dryer. He finishes with his stack before I do and tries to help me match my socks.

  “Just put them with any of those.” I point to the pile.

  “They don’t match?”

  I smirk. “That’s the style.”

  “Oh, then that’s easy.”

  After we finish up folding, and load everything in the car, I check the time. “Still need to go to the store?”

  “Yeah.” Logan starts the car. We drive across the street and park at the grocery store lot, and get out.

  As we walk through the isles, Logan asks more questions about guy and girl roles, but doesn’t really pick out anything substantial besides some nuts, shampoo and a few bags of Top Ramen. As we return to camp, I’m beginning to think the store was an excuse to hang out with me today.

  And once the lunch rush is over and we’re allowed to eat, I’m only able to take a few bites before I’m stuffed. With all the butterflies and thoughts of Logan, my appetite has vanished.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Just before 1:00, I head over to the snack shack with the till resting on one hip, and a large cup of ice tea in the other hand. Dirk insisted we all dress in costume for the skit during pool time, so I’m wearing what I have: a black tank I’ve painted a skull with cross bones on, a red do-rag on my head, and cut off shorts with the strings hanging down. I know he’d rather me wear a bustier with a white shipwreck dress underneath, but the shack is going to be too hot for garb like that.

  The line of kids has started and when I walk up they cheer. I smile at my decorating job. The front of the Shack O’ Snacks has cross bone signs and swords hanging from the walls along with a fishing net holding a manikin made mermaid captive. Logan helped me replace the old canopy cover with a black piece of fabric that has a pirate skull painted on it. On the counter, I notice a pirate hat with a long blue feather, and a note.

  The shack looks great. Thought you’d like this.

  ~ Dirk

  I smile at his thoughtfulness and put it on.

  “When are you going to open up?” one of the boys asks, staring at me with starry eyes.

  I hand him the till and unlock the door. “Here. Hold this.”

  “Oh, okay.” His hands shake, making the coins inside rattle together.

  “I’m Maddy. Who are you?”

  His face brightens. “I’m Sam.”

  The boys behind him watch on wide-eyed. Without even trying, I have a fan club.

  “Nice to meet you, Sam.”

  The line behind him starts to chant. “Open, open, open.”

  I walk inside, prop open the door, and turn on the fan. The place is already a hot box.

  Sam hands me the till. “Here, Maddy.”

  “Thanks.”

  He continues to stand there with a goofy grin, as if waiting for more orders.

  “Are you my help crew for today?”

  “Ah… um… I guess so…” Sam stammers.

  “Have I already been replaced?” Logan appears in the doorway wearing a tan vest that showcases his amazing chest along with blue and white pants that are three sizes too small. He has black fake dreadlocks hanging from his pirate hat that completely clashes with his brown hair sticking out from underneath, and flip-flops. Very un-pirate like.

  “Surfer boy turned pirate,” I say with a snicker as my eyes can’t help but be drawn to his rather large bulge encased in his pants. “That looks painful.”

  Logan laughs, and I can tell he’s about to say something suggestive when he notices Sam standing in the corner. “Something like that.”

  “Come on in, Matey. The sharks are restless.” I look at Sam. “You’re free to go.”

  Sam scoots out the door and returns to his friends, who high-five him. Then the chanting grows louder.

  I open the sliding window, and Sam grins at me.

  “Back ye scurvy dogs! Why you be making noise?” I yell while pointing a sword at them.

  Everyone grows silent.

  “I’ve pillaged villages far and wide to provide the tastiest of treats for this here Shack ‘O Snacks and this is how ye treat me? Of what measure do you plan to purchase them?”

  “Money?” the closest guy says to me.

  I glare a little longer to make them sweat. “That’ll do. Who’s first?”

  The boys crowd the counter, eyeing the sales board, which has been translated into pirate. Once they figure out the code, the demands begin. Logan and I quickly get into a rhythm. I work the till and get the candy, while he fetches snow cones, sodas and the ice cream.

  Once the crowd dies down, I notice the girls saunter past, hair immaculate and make-up done to perfection.

  “Do they not know they’ll be soaked at the pool games today?” I nudge Logan.

  “Freshmen.” He shakes his head. “Dang it. I should have brought my Super Soaker.”

  “Next week,” I say, completely forgetting for a moment that he won’t be here to help me next week.

  The line becomes steady, and to Logan’s dismay, Drumsticks are the hottest commodities. Maybe that’s because we couldn’t think of a good pirate name for them.

  “Let’s call them clubs,” he suggests. “Or torches.”

  “You can’t light ice cream, or beat people with it.”

  “Try me.”

  I laugh and take the next kid’s order. “Grog and a red whip coming up!”

  Grog AKA root beer has become the favorite of drinks.

  “You ready? We start a 2:00.” Dirk appears in the doorway with his Black Beard costume on and an empty box painted to look like a treasure chest in his hands. He sets it on the counter.

  “Yeah.” I smooth my hands across my shorts. Somewhere in the excitement, I forgot I’d volunteered to be kidnapped and forced to walk the plank for the skit. “Thanks for t
he hat.”

  I dip at the waist, and curtsy.

  Dirk smiles. “Don’t mention it.”

  “So I save the treasure and leave the girl, right?” Logan asks.

  “What?” I turn to him, appalled.

  “Pretty much. Just fill up the box with Drumsticks right before we attack. You’ll defend the shack, but eventually you and the lady will be captured. On the way to the high dive, you’ll escape and decide whether to save Maddy or the treasure. You choose the treasure, of course.”

  “Wait.” I say with a laugh. “This wasn’t discussed in rehearsal.”

  Logan ticks his head. “It’s a sacrifice for Drumsticks after all. Like there’s a choice.”

  “Traitor,” I say.

  Dirk looks at his watch. “Okay, we set?”

  I nod.

  Before more kids come to the window, Logan jumps up and marks the Drumsticks off the menu.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “Rationing,” he says.

  I lunge for the chalk. He holds it over my head.

  “Give it back,” I say. “There’s plenty.”

  “Not after today there won’t be.”

  “Hey,” one of the kids says. “How about some service?”

  “How about you speak a little kinder to my wench,” Logan barks.

  The boy cowers. “Sorry.”

  Logan turns to me with a sexy smile. “Your audience awaits.”

  My eyes narrow. “I’m not your wench, and you can’t hide the chalk from me all summer.”

  He fakes like he’s about to swallow it when the phone rings. My heart jumps, and I lunge for the receiver. “Snack shack.”

  “Um….” A girl giggles in the background, and my body practically collapses in relief that it’s not Gage on the line. “Is your refrigerator running?”

  I scan the crowd scattered around the pool, and look for the source of the call. “Yeah, why?”

  Some of Syd’s girls are looking at me, while a small group is crowded around someone sitting on a lounge chair, which I think might be Syd.

  “You better catch it!” Peals of laughter flood the line before they hang up.

  I roll my eyes and return the phone to the cradle.

  “Who was that?” Logan asks.

  “Syd’s girls are crank calling me.”