He Loves Me...He Loves You Not Read online

  If I would have only just said hi the day I met him. I wouldn’t have let myself fall in love with him. The truth is, I’ve been crushing on Henry since the third grade.

  Even as a nine year old there was something gallant about him. He’d stand up for other kids on the playground. Be friendly with everyone. He was selfless.

  One time in particular, I remembered him snapping at T.J Johnson when he pushed Matt Fischer into a chain linked fence.

  When I was younger I was ten times quieter than I am now. But, every now and then, I’d see Henry and he’d flash me his brilliant smile and I’d end up blushing.

  I’m gritting my teeth when I look up.

  Callie glances between Henry and me. “What are you doing, Henry? Why are you touching her hair?”

  I narrow my eyes at Henry. I’m wondering if he’s going to tell her the truth.

  He forces his words out. “She had something in her hair.”

  Coward. Coward. COWARD!

  I stand and walk into an empty fitting room. I don’t want to fall apart in front of him. Well, it’s not necessarily because of him. I don’t want to cause a scene and I know if I stay out there any longer I will. Inside, I’m an abandoned building, smashed by a wrecking ball. Hunks of my concrete walls crash into the ground and separate into smaller pieces. All that’s left of me is particles lingering in the air. I’m dust.

  “Ro?” My voice cracks and I swallow hard, trying to conceal my emotion.

  “Hey, you!” She’s always so bubbly and happy. It’s one of the reasons why I love her. “You decide to try something on?”

  “Yeah.” Another quiver of my vocal chords.

  “I can’t wait to see how you look in it,” she tells me.

  Only she never will, because the only reason I came into the dressing room in the first place was to ball my eyes out into the t-shirt I’m holding.

  Chapter 5

  “When love is not madness, it is not love.” ~ Pedro Calderon de la Barca ~

  I think I’m starting to lose it. My mind. Like One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest style.

  I’m not sure if I can do this whole casual thing with Henry. I’ve got to end it. Ever since we left the mall, he’s all I’ve thought about, and hearing him talk to her has made it even worse.

  Callie will be there—in school. Up until now, every time I’ve seen Henry he hasn’t been with her, like at the same time with her. She was at the party the other night, but I didn’t see them together. I didn’t hear the way he talks to her. But I did today. And I didn’t like it.

  I’m not a jealous person. I’m not, I swear, but this fling with Henry is making me think things I normally wouldn’t think and do things I normally wouldn’t do.

  On the way home from the mall, Rosa drives through a rural neighborhood. There’s a man outside mowing the lawn. I close my eyes and hear the lawnmower buzzing in my mind. The blades twirl in a circular motion as it cuts, slices, and mauls the grass. Then I see Henry so vividly in my mind. He was doing the exact thing the first time I met him and the flashback plays out like a movie in my head.

  I see his radiant smile, the dimples in his cheeks, his tan skin with beads of sweat skimming down his chest. I sigh and close my eyes. That hot pre-summer day in May changed my relationship with Henry Garner forever. Why did he have to talk to me? Why couldn’t he have just kept cutting his damn grass and left me alone?

  I’m so caught up in my memories of Henry Garner that I almost miss my phone ringing. It rings out the toll of the bells and buzzes. It buzzes right off my nightstand onto the floor. It’s Henry. I want to see him. I need to see him. Somehow I feel like tonight will be our last liason. Our last entanglement. I am going to end this tonight.

  I answer the call. “Hello.”

  “Hey,” he says. There’s amusement in his voice.

  “What’s up?”

  “Can I pick you up?”

  I glance at the clock. It’s eight. I might be able to swing this if I tell my Mom I’m going to Rosa’s. “Yeah, but hurry. My mom isn’t going to let me stay out real long.”

  “I’ll be there in ten.”

  I’m downstairs in a flash. Mom is at the computer in her office. She absorbed in this dating website she recently joined. “Five foot three?” There’s a hike in her voice. “No. No. That’s way too short.”

  “Mom?” I hang through the door.

  “Hi Riley. Do you need something?”

  “I’m going over to Rosa’s for a little bit. I’ll be home in an hour.”

  She waves me off. “Have fun. Don’t be too late.” As I walk out the front door, I hear her mumble, “Investment banker, how nice.”

  It’s humid out. The wisps of hair on the nape of my neck moisten and start curling. I’ve been waiting five minutes. Every second that passes feels like a year. Has it been ten minutes, yet? Has it?

  I feel a thrill—excitement—a rush of adrenaline. Mostly I feel like Juliet, sneaking out in the dead of the night for a secret rendezvous with her beloved Romeo. We’re a lot like Romeo and Juliet, Henry and I. We’re a Shakespearean tragedy.

  My Romeo pulls into the driveway, and I’m off the porch running to meet him. To crash into his arms like a car into a telephone pole, every bit and piece of me wrapping around him until he comes plummeting down on top of me.

  He gets out of the car and opens the passenger side door. “What a gentleman,” I joke.

  He laughs. “I try.”

  Once he’s back in the car and we’re on the road I lace my fingers through his. I look up at him. How am I going to do this? End this? Every time I see him I fall. I’m free-falling. From great heights. Fast and furious and I know I won’t splatter on the ground because he’ll be there to catch me. Or will he?

  Then I have this vision. Henry is at the bottom of a deep ravine. I’m falling and his girlfriend is falling. As we plummet toward the ground Henry is glancing between us. Torn. Uncertain. Save me, Henry. I wish he would, but I can’t be sure. Which one will he catch? Who will he choose?

  Henry. Henry. Henry. If you sing me the stars, I’ll give you the moon. And I’ll make it easy on you. Save me. Choose me. Love me.

  He’s staring at me. I catch him out of the corner of my eye. It’s like he wants to see me unravel. Like I’m a spool of thread rolling for yards and yards until I’m at the end of a journey.

  Then he licks his lips. The lips I covet. The lips I adore. He looks hungry and ferocious. He reminds me of a ravenous beast that wants to rip into my flesh and tear it apart piece by piece until all that’s left is my skeleton. So that I’m bare bones. Only he can see my insides. He and he alone.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asks me as he shuts off the car.

  We’re in an open field, parked in the center. Wildflowers everywhere. Light colors that glow in the dark. The sky above us is an open canvas and it looks like someone just took a paint brush and splattered the stars.

  I shrug. “I dunno. Us.”

  “What about us?”

  I break down. “I can’t do this anymore.” Then I run from the car.

  Chapter 6

  “Love is just a word until someone comes along and gives it meaning.”~ Author Unknown ~

  Henry is chasing me. I hear him calling my name, but I don’t stop running. The wind is liberating and it whips through my hair and I bask in it. The calming effect the forceful breeze can have on a person is exhilarating. Part of me wants it to pick me up and sweep me away so that I won’t have to worry about anything anymore. My parents. Henry. Henry’s girlfriend. Lying to Rosa. I’ll be free.

  Henry tackles me and I squirm beneath him. “Let me go!”

  “What is wrong with you?” He’s concerned and frightened.

  Tears spill onto my cheeks. “I can’t. I can’t do this anymore!” I love him, but he’s driving me crazy. My obsession for him is driving me crazy. I’m convinced I’m batty. That I have a screw loose. My mom visits me in my padded cell, kind of screw loose.

>   “Riley, I can’t let you go. I love you.” He sounds sincere, but guys always sound sincere when they want something from you. Right now Henry wants my essence. He wants my delight. He wants to take all of me.

  I’m sobbing. “You don’t mean that.” Love is such a feeble, silly word. The word can be tossed around like it has no meaning. You can say you love anything. Food. Clothes. What matters is what’s behind the word, the emotions. Happiness. Anxiousness. Nervousness. Sometimes even queasiness.

  “I do mean it, I do,” he tells me. He places his head below my breastbone. “Don’t leave me. Don’t end this.”

  “You can’t possibly love both of us,” I say. For a moment I feel like my soul is detached from my body and I’m standing off to the side witnessing this display of heartbreak and misery. “You’re going to hurt me.” He’s already hurt me. Hurt from Henry is the equivalent to slicing both of my wrists open with a razor blade. He will be the death of me. “Henry, I can’t.”

  “Please don’t,” he whispers and he inches his way on top of me.

  I don’t want to be in love with him, but he makes me. He makes me love him. Not because of his physical attributes. Those definitely fuel the attraction, but his genes aren’t why I love him.

  So many times when I’d needed someone, he was there in a second. Never hesitating. He’d drop whatever he was doing and rush to my side. I think of one time in particular where my dad showed up at our house and he and my Mom got into a heated argument on our porch. I had to get away from it and Henry scooped me up like a knight in a fairytale and took me away. He comforted me. Henry made me feel like as long as he was there nothing would ever harm me.

  Except him. He’s going to harm me. Eventually. I am sure of it.

  Lightning fans across the sky accompanied by rumbling thunder. The angels are bowling. A crash. Somebody just got a strike.

  The stars are blanketed by black clouds and another flash of lightning illuminates Henry’s face above me. Tiny droplets of water fall from the heavens and land on my forehead. Another flash of lightning. His hands are all over me, touching me, caressing my skin, and I love it.

  Rain comes down in torrents. It soaks right through my skin and I swear I’m wet to the bone. I sit up. He has a panicked, needy, desperate look on his face and it’s amazing how fast I regret the decision I so adamantly made before. “I’m sorry,” I tell him. I see the reflection of lightning in his light eyes. “I don’t know what I was thinking.” I can’t end this. I’m so deeply in love—with him.

  He doesn’t answer me. He lunges for my mouth and as the thunder crashes so do our lips—into one another’s.

  The ground is wet, muddy. I’m slipping and sliding in filth. Henry’s shirt comes off. His hands smack into the ground, then he places both hands on my cheeks pulling me closer and smearing dirt on my face. Another kiss. “Don’t ever say that again!” he’s shouting over the chaos that’s going on in the sky.

  “I’m sorry,” I say again. “So sorry.”

  We’re sopping and dirty. “Let’s go back to my house,” he tells me.

  “Aren’t your parents’ home?”

  “No.”

  I wrap my arms around his neck and my head falls into the curve. Then he scoops me up and carries me to the car like a newlywed bride, being carried over the threshold.

  Chapter 7

  “I don't pretend to know what love is for everyone, but I can tell you what it is for me; love is knowing all about someone, and still wanting to be with them more than any other person, love is trusting them enough to tell them everything about yourself, including the things you might be ashamed of, love is feeling comfortable and safe with someone, but still getting weak knees when they walk into a room and smile at you.” ~ Author Unknown ~

  Henry’s room is a constant reminder of something I’ll never have. All of him.

  There’s a picture of him and his girlfriend, Callie Banfield, on his nightstand. I flinch and look away. It’s too hard to look at it because every time I do, I imagine my face in place of hers.

  My chest tightens. I’m freezing. Soaking. Henry comes up behind me and rubs warmth back into me. He pushes my hair aside and leans close to me. “You’re shivering.”

  He makes me shiver, shiver with delight.

  “Come on,” he tells me. He grips me by the shoulders and directs me to his adjoining bathroom. “You’ll warm up after a hot shower.”

  Water. More water. Clear pellets of liquid refreshment rain down on me. I let some drip into my mouth then I spit it out. I’m in the shower, fully clothed. I watch the dirt as the brown residue washes away. Out of my hair. Off of my clothing and into the drain. It washes away like Henry and the way he washed away my innocence.

  I take my clothes off, all but my bra and underwear, and toss them outside the shower. The door opens. Then it closes. I peel back the curtain. Henry has taken my clothes. He’d told me when we arrived he was going to wash them. He thinks I’d have a hard time explaining to my mom how they got so dirty.

  Dirty like me.

  I know what most people think about girls like me. Home wrecker and whore are two of the names that always sound off in my mind. Thinking of myself as either one of those names doesn’t feel right because what I want people in general to understand is that I am neither one.

  Our relationship progressed slowly. First, he’d come over and we’d sit on the porch swing and talk. Then he took me to a spot where we’d lay on the hood of his car and watch the stars. Not long after that he gave me my first, real kiss and sometime later, I gave him all of me.

  He’d told me about Callie half-way through the summer, but I’d become so obsessed with him and just being with him that I didn’t care. I’d told myself that some part of him was better than no part of him. But some part of him is beginning to break me. I want more. I need more. Because just like Callie, I’m in love with him too.

  I touch my face. There’s still a dirty residue, a remnant from when Henry touched my face with his dirty hands. Dirty. Dirty. Dirty. Dirty but beautiful. My heart goes up in flames when I think of that moment. Not even the water raining down on me, cleansing my entire body can put the blaze out.

  Music cuts into the soothing sound of the water pouring on top of me. Jimi Hendrix. All Along The Watchtower. Henry is back in his room. The music devours me. I’m caught up in it. Classic rock. I close my eyes and let the sound of the guitar whirl through me. And I’m so deeply into it that I don’t hear the curtain open.

  Henry steps into the shower. His hands are on my waist. I’m not even thinking about the way his touch feels. That’s a first. I’m thinking about school tomorrow and if I’ll be able to handle it. I’m thinking about how stupid I am for not ending this, and I’m feeling like an addict who just can’t shake her high. Always craving the drug. Always coming back for more. Henry is my drug. I want to get high off of him.

  His palms brush against my stomach and despite the scalding hot water, I’m shivering. One slip of the arms later and he’s embracing me. He’s hot and his body against mine warms me up. Makes me boil. I think I’m sweating in the shower. He grabs my hair, staring down at me and I’ve never felt such a powerful hold over me by another human being.

  He captivates me, mind, body, and soul. He numbs my senses. Silences the words on my lips. I’m melting. His free hand slides up around my neck and he cups the side of it. My hands slide up his face. I hold his cheeks in my palms and I cry. I cry hard. Tears flow like a flash flood.