He Loves Me...He Loves You Not

  Mr. Warner waves his hand as his eyes widen. “Sure. Sure. Go ahead.”

  He must be reading a really good part.

  The quiet in the deserted hallway consumes me as I scale the first narrow set of stairs. Usually there are a few stragglers who linger at their lockers trying to get out of their last class of the day.

  The rubber soles of my Converse tennis shoes echo against the tile after climbing the second set of stairs. I’m worried the squeaking sound my shoes make is too loud, so I take small, quiet steps on my way to the third and final staircase.

  Then I’m caught off guard when a pair of strong arms circle my waist and guide me into the boy’s bathroom. “What the?”

  Henry pushes me into the wall and spins around quickly, locking the door with his long wooden hall pass. I’m breathing hard. So elated and overwhelmed that I place my hands above me on the cloudy teal walls.

  Henry moves behind me, wrapping one arm around my waist and the other around my chest. He pulls me close, gripping at the bottom of my t-shirt with his fingers. The warmth from his body sends me reeling, mixed with insanity and pleasure. True Religion cologne lingers on his clothing and the enticing scent invades my nostrils.

  I ache when I can’t see him. Feel him. Smell him. When I finally do get to see him, there’s a joyous eruption inside of my heart that’s more boisterous than a volcano. I swallow hard. His nose is on the nape of my neck and my whole body goes limp. I’m play-doh. Useless. He can bend me, move me and do whatever he wants because I know my body won’t function on its own.

  He breathes into my hair and his warm breath down my back brings on fresh goose bumps. “I had to see you,” he whispers. Such a soft, seductive, and at the same time, emotional whisper that makes my legs tremble.

  And I’m gone. So far gone that I’m certain I can’t distinguish fantasy from reality.

  I spin around and try to fight him off. I push against him, but he’s stronger than me. He lifts me up by my waist and backs me up into the wall. My voice has been caught in my throat since he first surprised me, but I finally find it and choke out, “Henry this isn’t safe. We’ll get caught. A teacher might walk in on us or something.”

  Trying to refuse him is painful when every part of me inside is screaming for him.

  He places his forehead against mine and I’m over-heated, like an engine about to spontaneously combust. He twirls a piece of my ash-blond hair between his fingertips and exhales, “I don’t care, Riley. I don’t care.”

  He pushes against me harder and traces the curve of my neck with his kisses. I gasp, choking on my own breaths, wedged in between his arms, the wall, and the sink in the boys bathroom. Seconds later, his lips cover mine. I’m sucked into his passionate embrace and I run my fingers wildly through his hair. I’m drowning in his kisses, trembling beneath his touch, and every time his fingertips glide over my exposed skin I feel like I’m scorching—baking all day in the intense summer sunlight.

  As our kissing progresses, I don’t care that our tryst seems raunchy and wrong. I don’t care that I’m at school, in the boys’ bathroom. I don’t care that to most people this would seem cheap, dirty, and despicable. The only thing I can think about while he kisses me deeper, harder, faster, is that Henry Garner is the plague and the only thing I want him to do is infect me.

  Chapter 9

  Love - a wildly misunderstood although highly desirable malfunction of the heart which weakens the brain, causes eyes to sparkle, cheeks to glow, blood pressure to rise and the lips to pucker.

  As I lie in bed that night I can’t help but wonder if Henry will still come over, tonight. Probably not, but I can still hope, right? I smile when I think of a moment earlier when he kissed me before leaving the boys bathroom. A powerful, loving kiss that even after our interlude made my knees buckle.

  “I’ll call you later,” he shouted over his shoulder as he made his exit.

  But he hasn’t and the blank screen on my cell phone is driving me crazy.

  I grab my laptop off of my nightstand. I open it, log into Facebook, and skim my wall. I freeze and my breathing stops. Henry Garner is tagged at Callie Banfield’s house at 8:30 pm.

  I can’t stop staring at the tag. I’m furious. Jealous. Depressed. I close my laptop and kick it off my bed. I don’t care if it breaks. Damn you, Henry. Why did you have to steal my heart? Why can’t I forget about you? Why can’t you choose me and not her? Why do you think you’re so special that you get to have both?

  Sometimes I don’t feel so bad about my relationship with Henry. Callie isn’t exactly a nice person. Back in elementary school she used to tease me repeatedly because I went through a tomboy phase and I wore boy’s clothes. “Don’t talk to it,” she’d say. “Seriously, what are you?”

  I know that’s no excuse. I know that just because Callie is a bitch, her nature doesn’t justify what I’m doing with her boyfriend, but sometimes it makes me feel like I’m finally getting revenge for what she’d done to me all those years ago. But as much as I despise Callie Banfield, she doesn’t deserve this. No one does.

  For what feels like days, I stare out the open window in my bedroom, hoping the cool breeze will miraculously send Henry flying through my window like Superman. Minus the cape. Then he’ll climb into my bed like he has so many nights before and hold me. He’ll keep me warm all through the night and I’ll wake up the next morning with his arms around me. Then we’ll kiss for hours and hours until the suns sets in the sky. What a pleasant dream to have and I know that’s all it will ever be, a dream.

  ****

  My alarm goes off and I growl as I feel around for the snooze button.

  Nine minutes isn’t enough of a snooze and as the alarm blares again I hit the snooze button a second time and a third and a fourth. By the fifth time, my Mom opens the door and flips the light on. “Riley Elizabeth Davis! Would you stop hitting that snooze button?”

  The sound of her heel tapping against the hard wood floor floods my ears and I wrap my pillow around my head and roll over. “Uh, Mom,” I whine. “Come on, ten more minutes. Please.”

  Mom flicks the light on and off over and over again. “I don’t think so, missy. Get up. You’re going to be late for school.”

  My eyelids flutter and I roll over. I squint at Mom, still disoriented and not fully awake.

  Mom is wearing a red tweed suit and she smooths down the skirt to cover her white slip underneath.

  I wipe my eyes and yawn. “You showing houses, today?” My Mom is a realtor and spends a lot of time working. She’s always showing houses our hosting open houses for potential buyers.

  She fluffs her golden shoulder length bob that glimmers under the light. “Several.” She spins slowly. “Does this suit say sale?”

  I don’t verbalize my answer. I simply nod.

  She steps away from my door for a second and returns with a lint brush. “You’re going to be on your own tonight for dinner, okay kiddo?” She rolls the lint brush over her arms and down her chest.

  I scoot to the edge of my bed. “Cool.”

  Mom palms the lint brush. “There’s food in the fridge and I left money on the counter in case you’d rather order pizza.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Sure thing, kiddo.” She kisses my forehead. “I’ll be home late so don’t wait up.”

  “Noted.” Mom waves at me quickly and walks out of my room.

  I get ready fast and stalk to my car. I grin, thinking about having the house to myself for a while. I text Henry.

  My mom won’t B home 2nite. U can come ovr if U want.

  I try to think if texting him this early would be bad. Does he pick up Callie for school? Does she go through his phone? I shrug it off, nah. I can’t remember him ever mentioning anything about that.

  But while I’m at my locker, before the warning bell, I realize texting Henry this morning was a bad idea.

  He strolls over to me and places one hand on the top of my locker door and the other above my head.
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  At first, an exciting, anxious feeling swirls around the pit of my stomach. I bite my bottom lips and smirk. I want him to touch me and in my head I’m singing, my love, my love, my love. Then I get a clear look at his face and I don’t know why I expect anything positive from this random encounter.

  Henry never talks to me in school and if he does its only when no one is around or in a secretive place.

  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?

&nbs
p; 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?”