He Loves Me…He Loves You Not
Lauren Hammond
Copyright © 2011 Lauren Hammond
He Loves Me…He Loves You Not © Lauren Hammond 2011. All rights reserved. No part of this novella may be used or reproduced whatsoever without written permission except for quotations written in articles or reviews.
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[email protected] The characters and events in this novella are fictitious and are completely derived from the imagination of the author. Any similarities to real people either living or deceased are completely coincidental and are not intended by the author.
ISBN: 9780983868118
Find a guy who calls you beautiful instead of hot, who calls you back when you hang up on him, who will lie under the stars and listen to your heartbeat, or will stay awake just to watch you sleep... wait for the boy who kisses your forehead, who wants to show you off to the world when you are in sweats, who holds your hand in front of his friends, who thinks you’re just as pretty without makeup on. One who is constantly reminding you of how much he cares and how lucky he is to have YOU... The one who turns to his friends and says, “That’s her...” ~ Author Unknown ~
Prologue
"We that are true lovers run into strange capers." ~ William Shakespeare ~
It’s hot. Unbelievably hot. Way too hot for the month of May. The thermometer outside my house read 96 degrees when I left to go on this walk. The sounds of summer linger in the air, birds chirping, sprinklers watering yards, and lawnmowers buzzing.
There’s a smooth pebble the shape of an oval that I’ve been kicking down the sidewalk for the last mile. I’m glad to be out of my house. All mom wants to do is talk about dad and I’m sick of listening to her rants.
Despite the stifling heat, there’s a cool breeze; a comfortable mixture of hot and cold that swirls around my head and blows my hair into my face. I swat at my poker-straight strands, peeling them away from my cheeks as the engine on the lawnmower next to me cuts out.
Bending down, I scoop my hair up and sweep it into a high bun. As I turn to continue my walk a boy strolls toward me. I freeze. He’s shirtless, dripping with sweat and there’s a hint of redness to his toasted almond skin; a remnant of the blazing sun. The boy smiles at me and I’m blinded by the beauty the smile adds to his features. He’s a candle in the window. Everything is illuminated.
He hovers over the white picket fence surrounding his yard. The muscles in his toned arm flex. Currents of sweat rain down his arms in mini rivers. I follow the trails of perspiration with my eyes. This boy is like a cool glass of lemonade to quench your thirst and squash the heat. “Aren’t you Riley Davis?” he questions.
My skin sizzles and tingles from the heavy sunshine, plus I’m certain I’m blushing. “Yeah.”
He extends a sweaty palm. I glance at his hand then at his face. He looks at his hand and wipes it on the leg of his khaki cargo shorts. “Sorry. It’s kind of hard to avoid sweating in this heat.”
I giggle. “Yeah. It seems way too hot this early on.” I examine him. He’s glistening, like the drops of dew on the grass in the early morning. “You look like you could use a drink or something.” I’m fumbling my words. He makes me nervous, and as he crooks me another grin my stomach does a back flip.
He nods toward his house. “You want to come sit on the porch with me? My Mom just made sweet tea.”
I think over his offer for a second. I shrug. “Sure. Why not?”
He opens the gate to the fence and I walk through. “Do you always say ‘why not’ when strangers invite you into their home?”
I laugh. “For one, I thought we were just going to sit on the porch. And two, Henry Garner, I’ve known you since first grade, you technically aren’t a stranger—even though we’ve barely said two words to each other.”
Later on the porch, he gives me a smoldering glance as sweat drips down his temples and bright smile spans across his lips. “You’re different, Riley. I can tell that already.”
I shrug. “I’m not different. I’m just me. It’s a shame it took you this long to notice.”
He shakes his glass of tea and the ice cubes swirl around, clinking and clanking on the side of the glass. He looks at me solemnly. “It definitely is.”
Chapter 1
"Love prefers twilight to daylight.”~ Oliver Wendell Holmes.
Friday night is for lovers. An early morning tryst. A passionate dalliance.
It’s two in the morning, but I can’t sleep. I’m anxious because I know he’ll be here any minute.
I watch the moonlight as the glowing beams seep through my open window and dance along the hardwood floor. A minute passes. Then five. Next ten.
A cool summer breeze whips through my pale blue curtains and the sound of soft footsteps cuts into the silence engulfing my bedroom. He pushes back the curtains and I swear I can see his perfect smile gleaming in the dark.
Henry.
The anxious feeling subsides as the springs in my mattress squeak and Henry crawls into bed with me. His warm fingers slide over my bare hip and I shiver. My time with him is limited so when I get it, I’m happy, so happy that I cry. His touch thrills me, electrifies me, and sends a jolt throughout my body.
“You’re too far away,” he murmurs. His voice reminds me of the man in black. Deep, raspy, sexy.
I let out a restrained laugh. “I’m right next to you.”
“Still not close enough.”
He tugs on my hip bone and I scoot backwards, closer. So close that I feel like at any given moment we might melt together and become one.
He exhales into the curve of my neck and his hot breath trails down my back, igniting my insides. I swallow hard, so consumed with my desire for him that the burning sensation coursing through my veins is overwhelming. I contemplate telling him to hold me forever. To never let me go. But I don’t. That might sound too needy. Too desperate.
He kisses my hair and whispers, “I missed you.”
I reach for his arm pulling it around me tighter. Goosebumps rise all over my body as his fingertips tickle my stomach. My voice quivers, “I missed you, too.”
I find his crystalline blue eyes in the dark and he crooks me a wicked yet beautiful smile. “Kiss me.”
And I do. I kiss him fervently and passionately. My lips flutter overtop of his in a frenzy of seductive bliss and inside I tell myself I’d rather suffocate than sacrifice a moment from kissing him to come up for air.
He rolls over, half on top of me and clutches my bare thigh. I’m delirious. Lost in him. My fingers dig into his back as his lips brush against my collar bone.
Henry. Henry. Henry.
Inside I’m screaming. Don’t stop. Never take your hands off me. I love you.
But those thoughts are unrealistic fantasies.
He’s taken. Some other girl’s property. And just like me, she anticipates a gentle brush from his lips. She anticipates his warm enchanting smile, and his tender loving touch.
And sadly she has something that I don’t…
All of him.
****
An hour later, he’s putting his pants on, kissing my forehead and sliding back out my window.
“Stay,” I say, softer than a whisper.
I know he won’t. He never does. And for me to think that he ever will is wishful thinking.
He doesn’t hear me. He’s gone. And I lose it.
I shove my face into my pillow and scream. Cry. Sob. An agonizing, dull pain pumps through my heart and I feel like I’m dying inside.
I’m trembling, tucked into a ball. I’m so weak that it makes me sick.
If I was a strong person, I’d tell him to fuck off and never crawl b
ack through my window ever again.
I’d tell him that what we’re doing isn’t okay. Cheating is morally wrong. But I love him so much it makes my whole body ache when I think I might never see him again.
Now I truly understand what it feels like to be the other woman.
Chapter 2
“Love is not blind; it simply enables one to see things others fail to see.”~ Author Unknown ~
There’s always a party the Saturday before the first day of school. A final celebration of summer coming to an end. It’s not a celebration for me. I’ll miss summer. My time with Henry.
Henry Garner. The most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen and the only boy I’ve ever loved.
Will we still see each other? And if we do how much will the relationship we have now change? I don’t know for sure and the thought of his absence scares me.
The party is held in an abandoned farmhouse on the outskirts of town. Miles away from the road, tucked between a rotting barn and field full of over-grown grass. I’ve been to parties here before. The family that used to live here abandoned it a few years ago. Sometime later it became the hot spot for reckless and wild behavior.
I go alone. My best friend Rosa texts me as I park my car in the abandoned field.
I’m running late. Meet U in an hr.
Music blasts, filling the field. The bass from some crappy rap song bumps so loud that as I walk up the gravel driveway I can hear the house rattling.
The sun is setting and the sky above me is a mixture of hues. Blue, orange, pink, and yellow all swirled together to make a lovely shade of violet. My feet scuff against the gravel, kicking up rocks as I take each step forward and the party-goers come into view.
Kids from my grade and some from the grades below me crowd around the porch smoking cigarettes and holding red cups. Farah Cuppler, a junior, with long curly red hair, stumbles to the edge of the porch, gripping one of the crumbling wooden columns and starts puking. Puking already? I wonder when this party started. Or if it’s already over. Or if maybe Farah got way too wasted way too fast.
There’s a crunching noise coming from spots in the dead, swaying grass, followed by whispering and huffing. Hook ups. I assume most of the rooms in the house are occupied, but I can see the appeal in being outside to do what they’re doing. A rush of adrenaline only enhances your senses and your buzz.
I scale the rickety wooden steps and spot Henry in the darkness. He’s on the edge of the porch talking with a group of his friends. We exchange an affectionate glance. My heart pounds. My pulse races. I’m hot for him—lusting for him—and it all it took to get me there was a seductive glance and a demure smile.
His eyes wash over me, taking in my appearance from head to toe. He looks hungry. And ravaged. I don’t know why. I’m not dressed particularly sexy or anything. In fact, I think I look like someone who works in a library.
A slight chill was in the air when I left the house so I opted for a pair of jean shorts and long sleeved baseball tee. My hair is pulled back in a ponytail and I’m wearing my night-time glasses.
I look away from him and open the front door. I step forward when Callie Banfield stumbles out the door, missing the small drop from the interior of the house to the porch. She falls into my shoulder and spills beer all over herself. “Watch where you’re going, it!” she yells. “This is a BCBG shirt!”
Laughter is stuck in my throat and a weird grunt comes out instead. I walk around her as she continues whining. “Whatever.” Then I walk inside.
The music cuts out for a second then picks back up with a slow song. There are so many people I feel like an ant amidst larger ones in a colony. I push my way through the people and they don’t seem to notice. Everyone is wasted.
Some guy I don’t know grabs my arm. He smiles and one of his front teeth is slightly crooked. “Where are you going?”
Observing him, I peel his fingers off my arm. First of all, his beer breath is putrid and I almost plug my nose in disgust. Second he looks way older than seventeen or eighteen. Probably in his mid-twenties. And it bothers me that he’s a party with a bunch of high school kids.
After I slip back into the crowd I yell, “Who knows?” If I tell him where I’m really going he might follow me and that’s the last thing I want.
Three junior girls swish past me talking and taking sips from their red cups. Where are the people getting the cups of beer from? I scan the empty kitchen. A dull flickering lamp is plugged in in the corner and it gives the room an eerie vibe. The shadows of party-goers flash along the brown mildew-stained walls. A door opens to my left and a guy walks out. As soon as he passes I see that his cup is full.
Jackpot.
Being sneaky, I slip into the utility room. A frayed string hangs above me. I tug on it. Damn it. The light doesn’t work. It’s so dark I can’t see a thing. As my eyes adjust to the darkness, metal gleams from the edge of the room. A keg. I brush against the old, slightly rusted washer and dryer, and pick up a red cup from the stack resting on the top of the cold aluminum container.
Taking a swig, I walk out of the utility room and my attention shifts to a sliding glass door. Whenever I came to parties here in the past this is what I’d usually do. Sit on the patio and watch the stars.
I close the door behind me and my phone vibrates in my pocket. I hold my cup with my teeth and whip my phone out. A text from Rosa.
I’m here! Where R U?
I text her back.
Do U evn have 2 ask?
Patio?
Yup.
Where’s the dmn beer?
Kitchen. Utility clst.
I snap my phone closed, shove it back in my pocket, and plop down on the cold concrete. Rosa slides the door open. “Hey. Hey. Hey!”
My head turns. “That was fast.”
She sits down next to me. “I was in the kitchen when I sent you the first text.”
Nursing my chilled, cup of fermented awesomeness, the burning balls of fire held up by a blanket of miles and miles of blackness distract me. There’s something truly beautiful about stars at night. The way they glow, shimmer, and shine. The way they can change the entire mood of an evening.
Rosa interrupts my moment of ambiance. “What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing.” That’s what’s so amazing. I can get lost in the sky and be thinking about absolutely nothing.”
“How are your parents?”
“Fine, I guess.” I don’t want to talk about my parents and their marital woes. It’s not that I don’t care; it’s that, that is all I hear when I’m home. My Mom never shuts up about it. “Can you believe your father?” she’d ask me.
In the past I’d answer her. Now I know it’s better to keep my mouth shut. I know he cheated on her and I do feel bad. But, in a way I’m just like him because I’m doing the same thing and I don’t want to think about what I’m doing being wrong especially because my time with Henry feels so right.
My thoughts shift to Henry. I let this relationship progress to the point we’re at now because we’re so similar. Not in the cheating aspect, but because I don’t even need to say anything to him for him to know exactly what I’m thinking. He’s a mind reader, forbidden lover, and a carnal urge. Among many things, and I love him for all of them.
I love the way he makes me forget about everything. I love the way he caresses my heart, like a nurse in the maternity ward, delicately caring for a newborn. I love the way he looks at me, like I’m the most appealing person he’s ever seen and he can’t help but stare. And I love the way a whisper leaving his throat sounds off in my head like Mozart, with his fingers of fury, creating a haunting melody with the ivory keys.
Rosa stands and I snap out of my trance. “Where are you going?”
“To mingle?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Mingle? With who?”
“Somebody. Anybody. The party is full of people and you’re being a party foul,” she gabs.
“Sorry.” I take a swig from my cup. “You kno
w how I get when I’m in my Zen zone.”
“Yeah. Yeah.” She waves me off. “Come find me when you snap out of it.”
As I look back up into the sky, the door closes behind me. We’re a surprise pairing, Rosa and I. I’m a loner. I don’t like to talk and I firmly believe that sometimes some things are better left unsaid. Rosa, on the other hand makes up for what I lack—a voice. And sometimes, she uses hers too much.
She blabs a lot. About her business. Other people’s business. She lives for gossip, but for some reason I can trust her with mine fully and whole-heartedly. She knows everything about me; my hopes, my fears, my pet peeves, and she has never mentioned a word of it to anybody.
There is one thing that I haven’t mentioned to her yet, Henry.
Maybe because I’m not sure what we are. Maybe because I’m worried that if we get caught, the thrill involving our time together will disappear. I’ve thrived on that thrill for the last three months and I’m not ready to see it fade.