“And I get to spend time in your neck.” He trails soft kisses up it as he says this, and murmurs as though he’s in heaven, “So worth it.”
CHAPTER 41
***EPILOGUE***
EPILOGUE
My play was a spectacular HUGE success due to my bright shining star—Remington Drake. (Er, I mean—Shane!) (My boyfriend!!!!)
Also, I kicked Skanky Sabrina out of my wonderful masterpiece—and instead I played her part myself. No one was kissing my smokin’ hot boyfriend but me.
… And FYI: I do it every chance I get—kiss him wild.
‘Cause it’s my right—you know, as the co-author of this epic romance.
Remington Drake and The Cheerleader forever. Yay!!!
(aka: Shane Shade and Bethany forever.) (Double yay!)
***
… and we lived happily ever after.
The (sort of) End.
Woot!
***********************
Keep reading. There is another story after the following book info. It is called, “The Girl Next Door.” (UPDATE: Now there is also the prequel to the author’s newest book: “Jane’s Air” included in this book as well.)
Note about the book you just read: Bethany and Shane’s friends (Ally and Griffin) are from the author’s book: His Kiss. (It’s only a dollar right now.)
What is still to come in this book you are reading:
* The very short prequel to the author’s newest book: Jane’s Air.
* The story, “The Girl Next Door.” (It’s a teen romance about a boy, Luke, secretly in love with his best friend—the girl next door.)
* The first chapter of His Kiss. (The romantic story of Griffin and Ally from this book.) (Right now His Kiss only costs a dollar—or you can read it for free if you have Unlimited.)
NOTE: The author’s four newest books are:
-Jane’s Air
-Even When I Sleep
-Smokin’ Hot (Accidental) Kiss
-Heartbreaker Hanson
Each book is only a dollar right now.
(Or you can read them for free if you have Unlimited.)
***NOTE: THE AUTHOR’S newest book is: “JANE’S AIR.”
SUMMARY of Jane’s Air:
Seventeen year-old Jane becomes an orphan and is pawned off by her aunt to work (and live) at the home (slash mansion) of the most handsome boy at Jane’s high school—Hunter Rochester. Hunter takes Jane’s breath away. But the handsome flirt is a mystery to Jane. Why did he persuade his mother to hire Jane to care for his little brother? And what other secrets is he keeping? (Jane has a secret of her own: she’s fallen for hot Hunter Rochester.)
**BELOW is a very short prequel to Jane’s Air:
Hunter Rochester:
I press Jane against her locker, barely able to keep from sniffing into her neck. But she thinks I hate her, so me sticking my face into the curve of her pretty neck probably won’t go over very well. So, I resist. With effort. Instead, I just tell her what I have to say, which will confuse her, but so be it. “Wear something different when you run in the mornings.”
She blinks at me, confused. Just like I knew she would. (I know Jane. I know her blinks—this one says, “You haven’t talked to me in over a year and this is what you have for me?—are you on drugs?”)
She growls, “I’m not actually taking outfit requests.”
I inform her, “It’s not a request—wear something different from now on.”
Then I push away from her before I do something dumb, like touch her soft hair, or … yeah, get lost in her smell. As it is, it has me salivating. This is not good.
I start to walk away from her but she calls after me, “No.”
I turn back to her. “It’s really not a request Jane. The next time I see you running in that outfit—well, more like not see you in it, I’m going to drag you into my car and make you change. I’ll have a bright red outfit waiting for you—with reflectors attached to it, and a sign that says, ‘I’m not a flower.”
She blinks at me. “What?!”
I flinch my jaw muscles. I don’t really want to admit that she has me so crazy that I practically hit her with my car every morning just from the sight of her—that even though I brace myself for the glorious image I know will be coming, my eyes attack her and don’t do what they’re supposed to. You know, stay on the road.
These aren’t things I want to share with this girl that has shattered my heart and turned me into a psychopath stalker.
Yet I let out a breath and basically do just that. I tell her, “I pass you every morning on my way to early morning hockey practice. Your gray outfit blends into the street, and your blond hair blends into the yellow field of flowers behind you on Burdmon Street.” I raise my eyebrows emphasizing the word as I reiterate, “—Burdmon Street. I almost run you over on that street every single morning. And unlike how you obviously feel about me, I don’t want you dead. I don’t want to run you over, Jane—so stop dressing like the street.”
I don’t wait to hear her answer. I just continue on my path away from her. Unfortunately, it’s to my creative writing class—a class she’s in as well. So is my girlfriend. They don’t get along well. Which you’d think has to do with me—since I stalk one of them, and date the other. But no. Their troubles started long before me. I just added to it.
My girlfriend smiles at me—since she doesn’t know I’d just had Jane pressed against a locker. I duck my head at her—because, yeah, I’d just had Jane pressed against a locker. I feel guilty that I had enjoyed it so much—getting to be near Jane after all this time. Got to smell her Jane scent that I’ve missed so much, and feel her warm breath on my lips. The feeling will stay with me all day. Make me trace my lips all night, pretending I can still feel Jane.
Gina (that’s my girlfriend) looks at me curiously. “Is something wrong?” she asks.
I shake my head and give her my last stick of gum.
She smiles, so sadly pleased I could bash my head in a wall. I’m a wad. I should dump her and keep it that way this time. (I dump her a lot.) Somehow, I keep letting her come back into my life, though. It’s hard to fight off a girl that is incredibly sweet to me—and hot. Yet, I don’t think that’s why I keep letting her back. If I face reality, I know it’s not. But I don’t like facing reality.
Gina reaches over and gives my hand a squeeze. She’d try to kiss me, but she knows better. She enjoys kissing me in front of Jane as much as possible. But I try to remain Switzerland between them. Which means, we don’t kiss in front of Jane. In fact, I try to avoid us doing anything in front of Jane. But Jane is her sister, so things happen.
Well, okay, she’s not really her “sister,” but as far as living arrangements go—they’re sisters. Same house. Same parental unit. Same proximity … which is the sad reality I dread facing: the proximity is what allows Gina to keep wiggling her way back into my life. It’s sick, I know. But Gina knows it too, yet she keeps coming back to me—and I keep letting her.
Class starts, and ten minutes into it, I’m in a daze. Jane is in the front of class reading her essay about love. It isn’t like all the other girls in our class that chose that topic. She didn’t write about her latest boyfriend, or her mad crush. She wrote about her family—her mom and dad and little brother. (They’re dead.) I about bawl listening to her. And watching her. Her lip keeps trembling in parts. Man, I’m glad she doesn’t actually cry, or I swear, I’d bawl.
Though I’m in a complete daze, I catch Gina out of the corner of my eye. She’s sneakily trying to pour her can of soda into Jane’s backpack.
What the—??
See, this is the major thing that keeps me breaking up with Gina on a continually basis. Though she’s as sweet as an angel to me—she’s an evil witch to Jane. I realize I play a huge part in this. But as I said, they were enemies long before I came along.
I grab Gina and want to strangle her.
“What is wrong with you?” I growl, shoving Jane’s backpack away from
her.
The teacher notices the commotion.
“What’s going on back there, Mr. Rochester?” our teacher asks, interrupting Jane’s easy.
I swallow and glance to Jane. She hasn’t looked at me since she first got to the front of the class. She’d looked at me really quick, saw my eyes intently on her, then looked away from me and refused to look again, though I know she felt my eyes on her the whole time she was reading her heart-wrenching tear-fest.
She peeks at me now, looking like I’ve done this on purpose—interrupted her assignment that she felt nervous about doing in the first place.
But how can I explain this? That my girlfriend was pouring a soda into Jane’s backpack? I don’t want to say it. Not in front of the whole class. Not while Jane’s up there—where she was nervously handing us her heart.
I feel bad that we’ve interrupted. That I’m in any way responsible. But I know I am. I was watching Jane; feeling for Jane. In front of my girlfriend.
“It was me,” I tell the teacher quickly. “I was being a wad—as usual.”
The teacher nods, like he expected no less. “Go be a wad at the office, Mr. Rochester,” he says.
“Right,” I mutter, and grab my stuff.
I don’t look at either girl as I leave class. I know what their expressions are anyway. Gina is grateful that I didn’t rat her out, yet bitter that I was ravenously watching Jane, practically holding my breath the whole time she talked. Jane on the other hand, her look is full of hurt and betrayal.
The thing is—the person I betrayed is Gina. Gina knows. Jane doesn’t.
***
End of the prequel.
Jane’s Air is available now and only costs a dollar. (Or you can read it for free if you have Unlimited.)
Note from the author, Melanie Marks
I hope you enjoyed the story!
There will be more to their story in the future.
If you would like to receive email notifications of my newest books, email me at:
[email protected]
(I’m always writing new books)
Note: Keep reading. There is another story included in this book after the following book info.
Links pertinent to what you have read so far:
Jane’s Air:
https://www.amazon.com/Janes-Air-Young-Adult-Romance-ebook/dp/B01LX3ZDBC
His Kiss (Story about Ally and Griffin)
http://www.amazon.com/His-Kiss-Young-Adult-Romance-ebook/dp/B00631JXEO
Note: Melanie Marks’ newest book is:
Even When I Sleep
Summary of
Even When I Sleep
I stood fixated, watching her play the drums—the drums I taught her to play. Maaan. I stepped back, feeling like I was falling. Falling right back in love with her, like I never left. I didn’t want that. I needed to keep my distance from her. I had to.
But I didn’t want to. ***Darius
CAMMY: my best friend, Darius, stopped talking to me four years ago. No explanation. No goodbye. He just changed schools and never talked to me again. But suddenly the beautiful boy is back in my life. Can I trust him with my heart? Four years ago he broke it. Now I have the perfect boyfriend, and I’ve heard all the rumors about Darius’s many, MANY girlfriends. Only secretly I’ve always loved Darius. Even now. Even in my sleep.
(Even When I Sleep is available now.)
Right now the book is only a dollar.
Below is a peek at the first pages of Even When I Sleep.
Peek at:
EVEN WHEN I SLEEP:
“Hockey players,” my best friend whispers, sounding in awe. Her eyes actually glaze over as she stares at the long row of them at the table near the entrance.
With a grin, I roll my eyes.
We’re at the mall, by the way. And we so didn’t come here shopping for guys, though I can tell I’m going to have to remind awe-struck Nina of this fact.
Just to be clear: I have a boyfriend. A football player—not a hockey dude.
(Just sayin.’)
Still, there they are: eye-candy (er, I mean hockey players) in all their yummy athletic glory, sitting at a long table—for charity.
However, the charity is not actually getting to ogle the hot guys though. They are actually doing something—signing pucks for a charity event or something. However, my best friend is ogling the tasty team so intensely she should probably pay for the meal. I mean, it’s for charity. And she’s obviously getting a delicious feast for her hungrily devouring eyes.
However the scrumptious team isn’t from our school, so it’s not like we could, you know—be normal and get a puck signed. It would not go over well if someone—anyone—from our school saw us (well, saw me) get a rival team’s autograph.
I mean, my little brother is totally into hockey, big time, but no way can I give him a rival team’s puck. No way. That would be sacrilegious. (Well, at my school.) Though my little brother doesn’t go to my school yet—or any school yet. (He’s four.)
Still, my school would throw eggs (well, anyway—a fit) if they caught one of our school’s cheerleaders getting an autograph from a rival school.
So, I try pulling enraptured Nina along. “Can’t go there,” I tell her.
“No. Wait!”
She totally stands her ground, as though she’s rooted in the spot. She’s absolutely not letting me drag her away, though I’m giving it my best shot. I really can’t afford this—getting caught near the enemy. It’s bad enough my boyfriend’s football teammates razz my boyfriend that his girlfriend is now head cheerleader for the hockey team. He’ll never hear the end of it if some “helpful” (aka: skanky) girl from our school snaps a picture of me in the enemy’s camp—and plasters it all over our school’s social media (which, unfortunately, I can’t put past most of the “helpful” girls at our school—that want my boyfriend. Big time.)
“Wait, wait, WAIT!” Nina insists. “I have to get this one guy’s autograph—I have to.”
I raise my eyebrows in surprise. “Which guy?” I scrunch up my brow. “You know a guy from that snooty prep-school—Madison Heights?”
The la-dee-da private school just barely sank to our school district’s level and started to participate in our sports programs. I didn’t know a soul from the school—and I had assumed Nina didn’t either.
But she nods, confirming I’m not quite up on my boy-crazy friend.
I blink. “You know a hockey player from Madison Heights?”
She nods again. “I do. Well, anyway, I want to. He’s absolutely dreamy. I met him at his school’s charity carnival. I took my little cousin there, and the hot dreamy hockey player was working in a booth.” She smiles sheepishly, “—a kissing booth.”
With a loud laugh, I groan. “Are you kidding me?”
“No.” She puts her hands on her hips, trying to sound offended and haughtily dignified (though she’s just playing), “It was for charity!”
I laugh again. “How much did you spend for the charity?”
“A lot,” she says.
Yeah, I’m kind of getting that impression from the way she has turned all love-struck and breathless ever since she laid eyes on that hockey table.
The guy must have been some kisser.
I sigh. “Nina, we can’t get in line for a rival school’s autograph. I’ll be burned at the stake.”
“Okay, well, I’m not going to get ‘their’ autograph—only Darius’s.”
I freeze at the name.
All the air whooshes out of me and prickles race down my spine.
When I can finally manage to form words, I choke out, “Darius?”
“Yeah, the dreamy guy I kissed, a thousand times—Darius Michaels.”
I swallow, trying to get control of my racing heart before I dare look over at the guy. Because I know it can’t be him—my Darius. It can’t … right?
I mean, my Darius is named Darius Night. And he lives somewhere far, far away. I mean, he has to. Or he would have com
e to see me—often.
Plus, well, it’s not the same last name. So, face it: it’s insane to get so worked up over a name. I mean, sure, my Darius was a super-star on the ice … but come on—it’s not the same last name.
It’s just the name, Darius—any time I hear it I go a little crazy.
And that’s what I’m doing now—going a little crazy.
So I swallow down my insane anticipation, and brace myself for disappointment as I finally dare peek over at the table.
But then—oh my gosh!!!
My heart slams against my ribcage.
I grab the counter for support. Because it’s him—it’s my Darius!
My heart thumping wild, I watch him in astonished awe as he signs a puck for a little boy, his dark hair falling over his gorgeous dark eyes as he hunches over the table, listening to the boy’s excited chatter as he signs the boy’s puck, his tiny smile amused as the boy gushes on and on enthusiastically to his rugged hero.
I stare at grown-up Darius in a trance, unable to breathe.
Of course when Nina had said the name Darius—of course my first thought was him. But I didn’t truly believe it was possible. Because it wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be him. It couldn’t.
… yet here he is right in front of me, smiling his beautiful smile as his little groupie rambles on and on to him energetically about hockey.
Without a word, I abruptly grab a puck from the bin.
Nina gushes out a laugh. “I take it you like?”
She waves a hand in front of my face as I continue to stare at Darius.
“Hello!” she gushes with a huge dose of wonder in her amused voice. She laughs, “You have a boyfriend, remember? You worship the guy.” Then she adds, “Though you seem to be worshipping Darius with your eyes at the moment.”
I ignore her, as it’s now my turn. Well, I might have cut a little in the line—not sure, since I was in a fixed trance and not at all aware what was going on in my surroundings. For me time stopped.
Darius went to take the puck from me to sign without actually looking at me. The line was long, it apparently took a bit of doing for him to notice one person from the next. Well, I needed him to notice me. I held on firmly to the puck as he tried to take it from me.
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