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

  He narrows his eyes. I study his body language. He’s tense and wearing an agitated expression. His jaw clenches, his lips form a straight line and there’s a hint of red in the almond complexion. A spark of anger resides in his pale blue eyes.

  The smile fades from my lips and I scrunch my eyebrows together. “What’s wrong?”

  He glances around warily and runs a hand through his reddish-brown hair. He doesn’t answer.

  I start undressing him with my eyes. During our time together I’ve memorized every inch of his body. The way his muscles are defined and dip in at his hip bones. A tiny barely visible birthmark that he has on the back of his right shoulder. Even his belly button that protrudes outwardly just the slightest bit.

  “Look,” he snaps, keeping his deep, beautiful voice that I’ve come to love low.

  I quit fantasizing about him and stare at him intensely.

  “Henry, what are you doing?” Callie shouts from across the hall.

  He looks over his shoulder. “Riley has Honor’s English before me. I’m just asking her a question about our homework!”

  “Hurry up!” Callie cries impatiently. “The bell is going to ring!”

  The students in the hall rush to their first period classes and Henry cranes his head down. “I thought I told you never to text me or call me during the day.”

  I’m baffled. I don’t know what to say. Part of me is trying to sift through my memories to figure out when this conversation took place and if I remember it at all. The other part of me is mad at him for being mad at me for something he shouldn’t be mad about in the first place, if he cares about me or loves me at all. He’s always saying how I’m the only one that matters. How he misses me and has to see me. So the only word I can get out as my thoughts continue to take over is, “Huh?”

  “You know I’ve told you that.”

  My heart is beating a million miles a minute. The blood writhing in my veins is boiling. “I don’t think I remember that conversation.” I hope he hears the anger in my voice.

  Rosa appears and pokes her head around Henry’s right side. “Hey Ry, you coming?”

  I hold my finger up and she disappears behind Henry.

  Henry waits, and then speaks. “Well, I do remember that conversation. So maybe next time you should listen when I’m talking to you.”

  My fists are shaking as I clutch my folder tightly, but before I can open my mouth to respond, he’s darting across the hall, throwing his arm over Callie’s shoulder and kissing her on the forehead. I watch them together twisted in a fit of rage and agony and then I slam my locker door as hard as I can.

  “Whoa,” Rosa jumps to the side. “Easy.”

  “What?” I bark at her.

  “What’s your problem? And what the hell was that about?”

  I storm down the hall and Rosa struggles to keep up. “Nothing. He was just asking me a question about English.”

  I can see Henry and Callie’s backs a few feet in front of us. Rosa stares at Henry’s back and raises an eyebrow. “Really? He seemed kinda pissed.”

  Tears swell in my eyes and I look away from her, briefly. I suck back the on-coming waterworks and exhale. “You know Henry.”

  She shakes her head. “It’s too bad someone that damn beautiful has to be such a tool.”

  What I really want to tell her is that he’s not a tool. He’s deep, thoughtful, smart, and funny. I want to tell her that he and I spent the entire summer together, staying up until the early hours of the morning talking about our families, school, and our plans after graduation, even our likes and dislikes. More than anything, I want to tell her how he makes me feel. I want to tell her that I love him and that he fills me up with joy, pleasure, and hope. He makes me feel whole. Complete.

  But I don’t tell her any of that.

  I’m a steel trap, for him. He wants me to stay quiet, to keep our relationship a secret, and I’m getting sick of it.

  Chapter 10

  “Love would never be a promise of a rose garden unless it is showered with light of faith, water of sincerity and air of passion.” ~ Author Unknown ~

  During lunch I drown out the loud chatter and get lost in a trance, staring at the tater tots on my burnt orange tray.

  Rosa waves her hand in front of my face. “Earth to Riley.”

  I don’t break concentration. My eyes zoom in on one specific tater tot, and I study the divots in it that connect it together. I’m thinking hard about Henry and our complex relationship. I’m thinking about how much I love him and about how much longer I can let our relationship go on this way.

  Rosa shakes my tray and few tater tots roll onto the floor. “Riley!”

  I snap back to reality. “What?”

  She looks at me puzzled. “Is there something going on that you’re not telling me about?” She’s worried, I can tell by the way her look softens.

  “No. Why?”

  “You’ve been acting weird all summer. I thought you still might have been upset and distracted because of everything that happened with your parents. But some days you seem fine about that. So I wanna know what’s up and why you’re still acting weird.”

  I smile and take her hand. “Rose. I’m fine. I swear. Thanks for being such a good friend.”

  It sucks that I’m not. It sucks that I’m selfish and want and need to keep everything involving my relationship with Henry to myself.

  Rosa shakes her head. “I’m worried about you, Ry. You don’t return my calls or texts. And you seem so distant.”

  “Ro, I promise you—I”

  The words catch in my throat as Henry’s voice fills my ears. He brushes past our table with Callie. “I love you, babe,” he tells her. Then he places a soft kiss on her cheek.

  No. Those lips, those full and beautiful lips belong to me. The same lips connected to his mouths that tell me they miss me and how much they love me. The same soft lips that have kissed every inch of me and leave me so hungry for just another peck that I weep. I can’t handle this. I’m going to fall a part. I’m going to cause a scene in the middle of the cafeteria. I have to get out. I have to go somewhere. I can’t be around them.

  “What?” asks Rosa.

  The room is spinning. I’m either losing my mind or I’m about to be sick. I shoot up from my seat and I can’t decide whether to scream out hysterically or throw up. “I don’t feel so hot.”

  My stomach twists and churns and I’m drenched in sweat. I glare at Henry and he doesn’t notice me. Of course he doesn’t notice me. I’m not her. I’m a fucked up fabrication, an illusion of a relationship, a secretive affair. And for the first time ever, I loathe him for making me feel this way.

  I loathe him for always putting me second.

  “Are you okay, Ry?” Rosa starts to get up. “Do you want me to come with you?”

  “No.”

  I take one last look at Henry, and bolt from the cafeteria.

  The icy water from the faucet in the girl’s bathroom eases the heat out of my body as I place my freezing hands on my neck. I lift my head and wipe my tearstained cheeks. I let out a long ragged breath. I’m calm. Well, I appear clam on the outside, but on the inside I’m stuck in limbo and I feel like I’m being pulled in numerous directions.

  I hear Henry. “Shhh. You know I love you, but this is our secret.”

  Next I hear Rosa. “Ry, please tell me what’s wrong.”

  Lastly, I hear a blended voice—a mixture of Callie’s voice and my own. “He loves me….He loves you not.”

  I’m so confused and tortured. Who do I listen to? What do I do?

  Do I betray Henry, the boy I love? Even though I’m furious with him, just saying his name in my head makes my insides swirl. Or do I keep lying to my best friend and hope that she’ll forgive when she eventually finds out what I’m keeping from her? I know she’ll find out because I’m on the verge of cracking. Breaking. Shattering. And I don’t care about the mess I make at this point.

  I’ve got to leave. I need
to go home, to get away from Henry, to get away from Callie and her sour face. And Rosa and her fifty million questions. I want and need to be alone. I want and need to figure out how I’m going to get rid of my infection, my obsession, and my love for Henry.

  Chapter 11

  “Love is a gross exaggeration of the difference between one person and everybody else.” ~ George Bernard Shaw ~

  In the office, Mrs. Gephart, the petite, elderly secretary greets me with a warm smile. “Riley, dear, what can I do for you?”

  Her voice is pleasant and soft and the sound of it brings a half-smile to my lips. “Yeah, Mrs. Gephart, I’m not feeling well. I need to call my Mom so I can get permission to go home.”

  “One second, dear.” Mrs. Gephart reaches under the counter and pulls out a black rolodex. She hums a catchy tune as she shuffles through the circular phonebook.

  The interior of the office is bland and bright. The white walls, white countertops, and pale carpeting, makes me feel like I’m outdoors on a sunny day without my sunglasses. My eyes sting and I close them as a migraine materializes and throbs in my temples.

  “Found it!” she squeals and the sound of her raised voice makes my head throb harder.

  I don’t open my eyes, but I hear her shuffle across the carpet and then she dials my Mom’s number. The office grows quiet for a moment. “Ah, yes, Mrs. Davis? Hi. This is Mrs. Gephart at the school. I’m fine, thank you. Riley isn’t feeling well. She’d like to go home, but we need permission from you first. Sure. One sec. Riley?”

  My eyes snap open. “Yeah?”

  Mrs. Gephart places her hand over the receiver. “Your mother would like to speak with you.” I walk to the phone and Mrs. Gephart places it in my hand.

  “Mom.”

  “Riley, what’s wrong?”

  I’m on the verge of tears and my voice cracks. “Mom, I’m sick I want to go home.”

  “Sweetheart, it’s only the second day of school. How many classes do you have left today?”

  “Three.”

  “Three. Can’t you hang in there for the rest of the day?”

  I break out into full on hysterics. “Mom, I just want to come home!” Mrs.Gephart hands me a tissue and I blow my nose.

  “Okay, sweetie, it’s okay. Put Mrs. Gephart back on the phone.”

  I hand the phone back to Mrs. Gephart. “Thanks, Mrs. Davis. You have a good day, too. Uh huh. Bye.” She hangs up the phone and I sniffle. My tears have stopped momentarily, but I know it’s only a matter of time before they pick back up again. Mrs. Gephart waddles over to me and pats me on the back. “There, there, dear. You just go home, get some rest, and feel better.”

  I blow my nose again. “I will.” My throat sounds clogged, like I just sucked down a jar full of honey.

  Mrs. Gephart smiles. “Good. I’ll let the rest of your teachers know you went home early.”

  “Thank you.” I turn to leave and I stop when Mrs. Gephart speaks. “Oh and honey, whoever he is, he’s not worth your time.”

  I nod and walk out of the office.

  At my locker I remove the books I need to take home and Mrs. Gephart’s last comment is still ringing in my ears. Am I that obvious? Do I have the words ‘boy problems’ scribbled all over my face? If Mrs. Gephart has noticed, why hasn’t Rosa? Or my mom? Or anyone else for that matter.

  It’s the middle of seventh period and the hall is abandoned. I’m glad. I don’t want to see anyone when I’m looking so disheveled and I don’t want to answer any questions if somebody asks me one.

  My books thud as I continue stacking them on top of one another and suddenly, I feel like I’m not alone. I stand slowly and look over my shoulder and Henry is across from me at his locker, propped up against it. “Where are you going?” he asks.

  I ignore him and pick my books up off the floor.

  When I start walking he follows me down the hall. “Riley, where are you going?”

  Even though I want to answer him, I don’t. I hum quietly, trying to drown out the sound of his voice. “Riley, if this is about this morning, I’m sorry, but you—you know I can’t…”

  And then I snap. I’m wild, crazy and full of emotion and I don’t care. I throw my books down and shove him. “It’s not about this morning, it’s about, you! You’re so selfish! And mean! Do you even know how I feel? Do you even care? Do you know what it feels like to always come second? Do you know what it’s like for me to watch you with her, her! Do you know what it’s like when the one person you care about the most in the world doesn’t acknowledge you? Or keeps you a secret. Do you know what it’s like to feel like you’re being ripped in half? Well, do you?”

  Henry’s eyes are wide. He raises his hands. “Calm down, Riley, please.” He touches my cheek and the warmth from his touch spreads through my entire body. “You don’t understand.”

  I corner him and dig my finger into his chest and push my words out, even though I’m fighting the half of me that’s screaming touch me, infect me, love me. “I do understand!” I shout. “Don’t tell me what to do. You’re always telling me what to do and I’m tired of it. I’m tired of hiding! I’m tired of being your little play thing!”

  I reach out to him, but I notice my trembling fingers and decide against touching him again. One more touch and it might be my undoing and so far, I’m holding my own.

  His hand inches toward mine. His fingers are needy. “Riley, you know how I feel. You are not and never will be my play thing. You have my heart.”

  I pull away from him, backing up. “No I don’t. I can’t tell if you really feel that way or you’re just feeding me load of crap so that I’ll do whatever you want. And I’m sorry Henry, but I can’t do or be who you want anymore.”

  “What are you saying?” There’s shock and panic in his voice.

  “Riley, wait. Come back, please,” he begs. “Let’s talk about it. I’ll end it with Callie I promise.”

  The tears sting my cheeks. He’s still behind me, following me. I swallow hard. “Leave me alone, Henry.” I do my best to put up a cold front.

  “Riley, you can’t do this to me. You’re killing me. I’ve never felt this way about anyone else.”

  He’s lying. Messing with my head. Fucking with my emotions.

  I run out the back exit doors, glancing over my shoulder as Henry stops at the steps. “Riley, please! You know you don’t want to do this!”

  He’s right; I don’t want to do this. I feel like I’m losing a part of myself as I run away from him. More than that, I feel like my heart has just exploded in my chest.

  I’m proud of myself for staying so strong in front of him. I’m proud for standing my ground instead of keeping quiet. But when I finally make into the safe haven of my car, I let it all out.

  I hunch over, hugging my stomach and let out long agonizing sobs. And the whole time I cry I hear him in the back of my mind, begging—pleading for me to come back.

  Get out of my head!

  Even my thoughts involving him are accompanied by pain. A dull, incessant, throbbing pain. As I try to catch my breath and control myself the pain intensifies, circling around my gut, and I’m not sure when or if it will ever go away.