The Marriage Pact Read Free

they thought I wasn’t watching. One or two had openly propositioned him, but Brody just shrugged off all the attention with a laugh. “Sorry, but I’ve already got a girl,” he would say, slinging his arm around my shoulders and hugging me close.
    In a small town like ours, it didn’t take long for even the new girls in town to get word pretty quick that he was taken. By the time I turned seventeen, people asked me more about whether or not Brody had popped the question than where I was applying to college. Even Mom and Dad had accepted Brody as an indisputable member of the family.
    Maybe it was because everyone expected it to happen sooner or later that Brody proposed a week before graduation. Thankfully, it wasn’t a public display; we had been at home—our two houses had long since felt like ‘home’ no matter which one we were at. No matter how much time passed, the memory of that day often came rushing back at me without warning.
    We were watching Casablanca —even if he’d never admit it to the boys on the basketball court, Brody was an old movie buff and he liked chick-flicks, so long as they were in black and white. Sunlight was streaming in the open window, accompanied by a light breeze and the humming of birdsong outside. It was a picturesque day, but just a normal Sunday afternoon in our small town that we often took for granted.
    “I saw some beer in the fridge,” he said casually. “Want one?”
    “What if we get caught?” I asked, wrinkling my nose at the word beer . He knew I could hardly stand the stuff. It seemed to smell like sweat and football, both of which I found distasteful. But there was a part of me that was still caught up in trying to impress him after all these years, so if he had one, he knew I would, too.
    He chuckled and reached over to stroke my cheek fondly. “You’re so damn cute, you know that?”
    The rich, deep sound of his laughter never failed to make me flush with pleasure. I batted my eyelashes at him just to hear him laugh again. “You really think so?”
    “You know I do. And what are you worried about, anyway? You’ll be legal in three years. No big deal.”
    I started to point out that three years was still a long way off, but in the end I shrugged. “OK. Sure.”
    The movie was just getting started and Ingrid Bergman had just walked into the bar.
    “Hurry up, Brody, or you’re going to miss it!” I called out. The first time Sam played ‘As Time Goes By’ was his favorite scene.
    “I’m coming already!” he called back. He walked into the living room moments later and handed me a cold can of beer, watching me expectantly.
    “You have horrible taste in beverages,” I commented before opening the can and taking small, timid swallows until I couldn’t stand it anymore. I winced as the liquid went down my throat. Neither of us was that into drinking, whatever else we might have said to our classmates, which was why I was surprised to see that Brody had already downed his can.
    “But I have wonderful taste in women.” He winked.
    “Flatterer!” I accused.
    “Want another?” he asked, turning back toward the kitchen.
    “Brody!” I exclaimed with a laugh. “What are you doing, trying to get me drunk?”
    “Of course not. I just want you to be relaxed.”
    “Come on, sit down.” I patted the couch invitingly. “You’re not even watching the movie.”
    He shrugged, but it made me look at him closer. Normally, ‘watch a movie’ was code for make out. Usually, after the first five minutes we were on each other as hot and heavy as a frying pan that had been left on the stove too long. The only exception was his black-and-whites, which was why I was appraising him thoughtfully.
    When he sat down beside me, I moved until I was straddling his lap and cupped his face in my hands. “You don’t have to go to all this trouble to get laid. You know that.”
    “Shan—”
    “Shh.” I leaned over and inhaled the scent of his cologne right before I