ending to Somewhere in Time? “I … wait, what? You’ve seen it?”
He scoffs. “Of course. Any northern Michigander worth his salt has seen it. It’s like, part of civics class or something.”
This makes me snort. “No, it’s really not.”
He’s so upset about this, and I think I might be in love. “Fine,” he says. “I watched it because I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Lot of people come up here to see that hotel because the OG Superman was there to film that movie. Turns out it wasn’t terrible, but the ending was the biggest let-down ever, and for the life of me I will never understand why women love that movie so much. Don’t you all want a happy ending? Does it make you feel good to feel sad, to sob your eyes out?”
“I…” I don’t even know where to start right now. But I offer, “It’s cathartic? I guess?”
“You know what’s a better story? How human hands built the locks to tame water, and how that complicated feat of engineering controls the movement of 90 percent of the country’s iron ore.”
The last time I heard someone get excited about iron ore, I was falling asleep in my high school geography class. This lecture does not make me want to fall asleep; it makes me want to jump his bones. I take a step closer to him. I can’t help it. He’s all worked up, and I blame the pheromones. “Fine. I’ll go with you on Lock Day, if that’s what you want.”
“Good,” he says firmly, as if he’s just won the argument.
“But you’ll go with me to Mackinac Island and keep an open mind?”
“No. Maybe.”
“Great,” I reply. “Lock Day is tomorrow? I’ll be ready early.”
“Fine.”
“Super,” I said.
“Awesome,” he says, heading off to shower.
Out of respect for his boundary that I’ve crossed with the hanging of this bra, I take it down and march back to the great room and hang it on the pull chain of the ceiling fan using a piece of fishing line.
Chapter 10
Josh
Thirsty. So thirsty.
I reach for a stainless steel cup in the kitchen because if I take a glass one, I’m likely to bust it in my fist.
Penny is still hanging out on the futon, getting her scent all over it, when I finish my shower.
Somehow I gotta have an outlet for this pent-up anger at the pervert who stole her undies before I track him down and pound him into the ground.
“Please tell me they caught the guy who did it,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Wow, you’re really invested in this story,” she says, looking up from her book.
Lady, you have no idea.
“I can’t stand creeps.”
She nods in approval but fixes me with a curious look. “Well, we never made a case out of it, but I think I know who it was. The neighbor was always a little weird around me. He would sit on his mom’s porch and watch my girlfriends and I play basketball in the driveway. We asked him to play once, but he said no, he just sat there making us uncomfortable. Out of the blue, he asked me to prom. I said, ‘Dude, I’m 17 and you graduated five years ago, why would you care about my prom?’ And he said, ‘You smiled at me; I thought it meant something.’”
“Gross.” This dude seriously makes my skin crawl.
She nods vigorously. “Yeah, so if I don’t smile it makes guys upset. When I do smile, they accuse me of leading them on. So now I just say ‘fuck ‘em’ and live my life.”
Suits me fine. “Whatever keeps the creeps away,” I say, a little bit too growly. And any other dudes but me, for that matter.
But she won’t have to do it alone now. I’ll be the one to keep the creeps away from now on.
“If guys have such a history of behaving like sleazebags around you, why would you…why would you be okay with sharing a cabin with me?”
That’s my million-dollar question. Why would she not be afraid of me? She should be. I jerked it just last night because I couldn’t stand to lie awake all night thinking about her stumbling to the bathroom in those tight PJ bottoms.
Penny’s response is to soften her face, stick out her bottom lip, and give me puppy dog eyes. “Because,” she says, standing, flitting around the kitchen island and wrapping her arms around me. “You’re my Josh. And I know you.”
I know it’s a friendly hug,