Louder Than Words (Fall For Me)

by Marks, Melanie

  But then that thing with Blake came up … and then that thing with Sabrina … and then that awful camping trip. They all happened so fast—and all right in a row. But having him back in my life again—even for that tiny little span of time—crumbled down all the walls around my heart I had tried to build against him.

  If I hadn’t seen him with that blond pin-up girl after our closet encounter I probably would have hunted him down and spouted all my confused, convoluted feelings to him. Confessed that I’d fallen for him. Big time. But well, the next time I saw him he was with that girl and it made me realize I was no longer in Mason’s sight—so I was out of his mind.

  And it killed me.

  Yet the whole time I was away at my aunt’s, I’d never been able to get Mason out of my mind. But I sure seemed to be out of his, completely—he didn’t call or text or … well, anything. I kept hoping he would communicate with me and say he was sorry that he was with a girl right after caging me in the closet, looking at me all hungry and seductive and like he wanted me big time. Wanted to “kiss me blind” like he had said once.

  But no. He didn’t communicate with me … and I’d been too hurt to communicate with him.

  … Anyway, that’s how I was left feeling—that actions speak louder than words, and Mason had put out zero action towards trying to show me he was “into” me. I mean, when I wasn’t conveniently located right in front of his face.

  ***

  It was weird, but I was still contemplating the Mason’s-neglect thing Monday at school—when suddenly he was there, hovering over me as I shut my locker.

  He smiled, amused by my surprise—or so I thought. I thought that’s why he was smiling all I’m-totally-entertained-like.

  He sort of pinned me against my locker. (Mason does that—pins girls against walls so he can get up close and tempting and make girls’ hearts pound and their knees go weak … before he breaks their heart … by pinning another girl [out in the school parking lot—right against his motorcycle, when he ought to be in a class].)

  Anyway, he pinned me against my locker. Playful at first, not seducing or romantic or anything like that. Just whimsically. Like for fun or something. But then a spark flickered in his eyes and his expression lost all of its amusement. He leaned in closer to me, so close I could feel his heat—and see heat glistening in his eyes … like a burning. For me. My heart started beating all spazzy and wild. Mason doesn’t usually do this kind of thing to me. (I know you might think he does, because I’ve given you a lot of examples and instances where he did … but those were exceptions. Not the rule. The rule normally was—he treated me like a sister.)

  So, I was quite shocked and amazed. And swooning.

  Mason softly touched a tendril of my hair.

  “Want to get a hot chocolate?”

  He asked it in my ear—well right up close to it. His warm, Mason breath tickled my neck, sending tingles through my body, all the way down to my toes.

  The air whooshed out of me. What’s going on? Why’s he … flirting? With me?

  His hungry brown eyes lingered on mine—stayed intently focused on them, drinking in my every expression. His blatant staring made my knees go weak and my palms start sweating.

  What. Is. Happening?

  I swallowed.

  “Can’t.” I managed to choke out. “I have a test.”

  Trying to look chill and sound in control of my pounding, exploding heart, I cleared my throat and informed him curtly, “I need to go study for it. Now.”

  He tilted his chin to one side, then the other—something he does when he’s thinking. Finally, he pulled away, giving me room to move, a little.

  He leaned against the locker next to me. “You’re studying during break? That’s so boring.”

  “Yeah, well, you know me…” I headed towards the library.

  “Yeah, I do.”

  The way he said that made me turn back to him, a shiver of dread running through my body.

  His lips quirked. “I have something of yours.”

  Suddenly, I felt sick. “What?”

  Mason flashed a grin. Then slowly, he unzipped his backpack and took something out. Seeing what it was, my heart stopped. I mean it. I no longer had a heartbeat.

  “My diary! Aaahhh! You didn’t read it, did you?” I hadn’t even noticed it was missing. See, that’s what a person gets for being sporadic with a journal, they lose it, and don’t even realize it’s gone. But obviously, I’d forgotten it at Mason’s in my hasty exit Sunday morning. “Mason, you didn’t … did you?”

  He nodded that he did.

  “No, you’re kidding,” I begged. “You wouldn’t read it.”

  “No, I did,” he assured me.

  “But—you had no right.” I clutched my stomach, so incredibly sick. “It’s personal.”

  “Yeah, no kidding. Look, I didn’t even know what it was. I swear. I just found this open notebook in my desk—an ugly, ratty thing. I thought girls were supposed to have pretty diaries, with locks and everything. Anyway, I had no idea what it was. It was in my desk, I thought it was mine.”

  “I put it in there to hide it from you.”

  “Yeah, well, clever spot.”

  “Mason, you had no right to read it.”

  “I realize that—I do. But I really did at first think it was mine. I mean, I hadn’t been in that desk for like, a year practically—it’s a mess—and so I had no idea what was in there. And it was right on top, and it didn’t look like a diary. It was just a notebook, and it was open, and I started reading, and it was about me, so I kept reading.”

  “Mason!” I was mortified.

  For about a second he looked truly sorry, but then he smirked. “You really think I look like Zak Efron?”

  “I hate you.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “That’s not what I read.”

  I threw my diary in my backpack and tried to storm away, but he grasped my shoulder, pulling me back to him. He cupped my chin in his hands and made me look up into his face. “Summer, I promise you, when I first started reading I had no idea what it was.”

  “But when you found out you should have stopped.”

  “Yeah, I should have, I know that. I was going to—but it was about me.”

  I squirmed away from him, shaking. “So? That doesn’t give you the right to read it.”

  “I thought maybe you left it there on purpose. I thought maybe—subconsciously, or whatever—you wanted me to read it. You know—read the things you dare not say.”

  “Mason, cut the crap—you’re a nosy jerk.”

  “And you—” he grabbed my arm again as I tried to storm away—again—this time pinning me against my locker, “—are a romantic girl. I never knew that.”

  His eyes lingered on mine for a second all hot and hungry, but then his lips quirked in that teasing way he has. “I had to stop reading and take a cold shower every three pages.”

  Not! He was so teasing. Still, I could feel my face turning red just the same.

  I muttered, “Right. That’s what my whole life’s been about—to get you hot and bothered.”

  “Yeah,” his eyes danced, “that’s what I read.”

  CHAPTER 39

  Not wanting to burst out into mortified tears in front of everyone, I waited until I got home to re-read my journal. I had to find out exactly what Mason read.

  I started with my last entry, figuring that’s where Mason began—since that’s where my notebook would have been open to.

  March 18,

  I’m at Mason’s house, baby-sitting his little cousins. He’s not here though. He’s camping with his friends. I’m a lunatic. At the moment, I’m in his bed, wearing his shirt, smelling his Mason-scent. I even brushed my teeth with his toothbrush.

  Wednesday he finally noticed me back at school. He’d just gotten his pizza and noticed me standing in the lunch line. He seemed hurt I hadn’t told him I was back. It’s weird, but it made me feel good that he felt bad. I mean, at least he car
ed. At least there’s that. Ugh! He’s adorable, but a total hazard to my heart.

  It just went on like that. Nothing too incriminating—but extremely embarrassing. I figured if that’s all he read everything could still be okay. Pretty much. I mean, he’d just realize I’m slightly demented, and basically, he already knew that. At least I didn’t write anything stupid like I loved him.

  I crawled into bed, but though it was after twelve, I couldn’t sleep. Sheep didn’t work. Nothing worked. My heart was all anxious.

  As I restlessly tossed and turned, I remembered an entry I’d written in my journal over winter break. Feeling sick, I kicked off my covers and reached for my journal, fumbling through the pages until I found that entry.

  December 21,

  I ran into Mason at Justin’s party. We played pool all night. It was fun. I miss him! I didn’t realize just exactly how much until I saw him again. When he first noticed me there—at the party—he smiled at me and, I swear, my heart gushed and filled with this happy warmth. And I forgot all of my problems. It was sooo good to be with him again. He makes me laugh. Sometimes it seems he is the only person in the world that can do that. The only person.

  With all my heart I wish … Well, it doesn’t matter what I wish. Our history is complicated. Too complicated for Mason. He likes things easy—easy girls, easy relationships (aka: no relationship at all—just lots of mackin’ … with LOTS of different girls.) When Mason looks at me, it’s easier for him to see me as a sister—only a sister … so he doesn’t have to worry about hurting me. Which is sweet, of course, but that means he doesn’t see me as a girl—well, he tries not to. And he’s frustratingly successful at it. Usually. And why not? Tons of girls throw themselves at his feet. Tons!! Why bother to get involved with me?—a major complication, a person he doesn’t want to hurt … so a person he won’t touch. To him I’m off limits. Off limits to kiss and think about. I mean, sure, he’ll help me if I ever need him. I know that. But he’ll never kiss me or even THINK of me of his own free will.

  Ugh! The entry went on and on. I’d written about his gorgeous warm eyes, how they made me weak in the knees when I’d catch them staring into mine, and how when he licked his soft, pink lips I wondered what it would be like to have them press against mine again, and have his huge Mason hands tangle in my hair like they did at that party—that one over a year ago. (Yes, I was still thinking about that kiss—and I’d written about it.)

  Ugh, ugh, ugh!

  I sighed, closing the journal, wondering if Mason was gloating over that entry right this minute. I wondered if he even cared enough to gloat….

  Just as I was being swallowed by my own despair and humiliation, I heard a noise outside—at my window. My stomach knotted with panic, but there was a wisp of hope stirring in me as well. Holding my breath, I listened. Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap. Our old signal. My heart suddenly leaped against my chest. I got out of bed and ran to the window. There I found Mason, crouching on the roof below my windowsill. He gave me his most adorable smile and with my heart beating all crazy, I let him in.

  It had been years since he’d done this—climbed up to my window in the middle of the night. He hadn’t done it since middle school—since we were close, dear friends and told each other everything.

  Now we stood in the middle of my room, gazing at each other, neither of us saying anything. It was weird.

  “What are you doing here?” I finally asked, folding my arms like I was mad.

  Mason ran his hands through his hair. “Man, I don’t even know.”

  Again, we just stared.

  “Look, I’m sorry I read it, Summer,” he finally said.

  He sounded sorry. That was weird. “The thing is though, it told me stuff about you I didn’t know—stuff you would have never told me. Like, you’re attracted to me—I never knew that.” When I tried to protest, he interrupted. “No, I swear, I didn’t. Sometimes I thought maybe you were, but then I’d think: No, this is Summer—she doesn’t really think of me like that.”

  I wrinkled my brow. I mean, I’d made the guy kiss me.

  When I mentioned the kiss to him now, he shook his head. “You were experimenting, Summer. You were always experimenting. It was like I was a science project to you.”

  “Oh.” I guess in a way that was true. But only sort of.

  Mason smirked in amusement at my brilliant response. My enlightened, “Oh.”

  But then he turned sober. “Look, I didn’t think I had a chance with you. I thought if I tried to be more, you’d freak out.”

  Tingles washed through me. Everything he was saying—all of it—I’d longed to hear it forever. But now that it was actually happening, it was kind of scary.

  I’d known Mason forever. It would be weird if we suddenly got together—not a bad weird though. A wonderful weird. The bad weird would be when we broke up. That would kill.

  Mason took my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. “Look Summer, I’m not going to let you go back to just watching me—just day-dreaming. I mean, that’s lame. You’re a coward—take a chance.”

  Hearing him say that was kind of brutal—mostly because it was true. I was a coward. But admitting I had feelings for him was too scary. I liked him too much. I couldn’t lose him.

  “Summer,” he said, his voice tender, “we’re friends. It’s sort of scary to mess with that. It is—I know. But I think we’d be good together.” He licked his soft, pink lips—making them moist and shiny. Totally irresistible. It had my heart all aching and yearning.

  He gave my hand a little squeeze. “Don’t you think we’d be good together?”

  There were a million thoughts swirling in my head. I wasn’t his type. He liked older, experienced, party girls. Probably it wouldn’t work out. Probably I’d lose his friendship and my heart would get all mangled and broken and ripped to shreds.

  But here he was, in the middle of the night, wanting to talk. He climbed up to my window and took my hand and was looking at me all hungry and yearning. He was so doing that action thing—his actions speaking louder than any words he could ever speak. Wasn’t that what I wanted? What I craved?

  Wasn’t it?

  I swallowed and looked into his yearning kind eyes—they seemed to be begging me to give him a chance, us a chance.

  I swallowed again, taking a deep breath. “Mason …” I couldn’t help remembering the blond waiting for him right after he had whisked me into the janitor’s closet. That day I’d been so close to giving him my heart. Yet seeing that girl with him—right after almost giving into him—it crushed me.

  As much as I wanted to trust him now, to give him a chance—us a chance—I just didn’t feel I could.

  But looking into his sweet, waiting, hopeful eyes—I couldn’t tell him that. Instead I choked out, “I want to give you a chance—us a chance. I do. But I’m just not sure I can.”

  His brow lowered. But then he nodded, like he understood.

  He said softly, “Okay, then just give me a chance to make you sure.”

  CHAPTER 40

  MASON

  I know I hurt Summer that day she saw me with Amber out in the school parking lot. It crushed her. I know that. But I wasn’t expecting her out there—out in the parking lot. I mean, it was class time and Summer is one of those girls that always goes to class. She looks hot, and like she’d be a total rebel but she’s not. She’s the sweetest girl I know. And she tries to play by the rules. Even when the rules suck—like you can’t get involved with this dirt-bag that is supposed to be your brother but looks at you like you’re a piece of candy and he’s starving to death.

  Anyway, I knew it hurt Summer to see me with Amber. But I’d only called Amber in the first place (telling her to come and meet me in the parking lot), because Summer had hurt me. I mean, she shot me down. I’d taken her into that closet thinking, This is it—Summer finally knows what she wants … and it’s me. (Okay, I didn’t exactly think that. But I was hoping it…. Of course, I’d hoped that a lot through
out the duration of knowing Summer.)

  But I’d had my hopes all up and then she shot me down. And it kind of crushed me, so I called Amber. Because Amber was who I called lately to get my mind off Summer.

  She kind of looked like Summer—what with her silky blond hair, and long gorgeous legs, and the first day I met her she was wearing these sexy long boots like the ones Summer wore the day she wanted me to stomp her geeky ex.

  Man, I’d gone wild for Summer in those boots. Could barely take my eyes off her, though it made me feel like a creeper. I mean, I tried so hard to keep thinking of her as a sister. Even after I moved out. ‘Cause I figured realistically, that was the only way we could keep a relationship—if it was hands off. ‘Cause face it, we were both messed up when it came to relationships. (Only, I sort of always held out hope we weren’t able to keep with other people because we weren’t meant to be with “other people.” We were meant to be together. But it didn’t seem like Summer was ever going to figure that out.)

  But now, finally, it was my chance. I needed to work it so she could see—we were meant to be together.

  CHAPTER 41

  SUMMER

  When I got to my locker Wednesday morning my spirits were low. Like to the ground. My heart was aching.

  I hadn’t heard from Mason since Monday night when he came to my window saying all that “give us a chance” stuff. Yesterday (Tuesday) had been a day off from school for a teacher-workshop meeting. So, all day long I trailed around hoping to hear from Mason. Hoping he would do some grand gesture. Something to help me have a little faith that there really, truly actually might be a chance for us. I really soo needed him to do something. Anything. But no. Not one text or email or phone call or anything.