My pocket vibrates and the buzzing echoes through the quiet night air. I check my phone. Rosa. God, she just left. What could she possibly want?
I open my phone and my mouth hangs open. Shit! It only takes me a second to react after I read the message.
Cops R here. Run.
Chapter 3
“When you smiled you had my undivided attention. When you laughed you had my urge to laugh with you. When you cried you had my urge to hold you. When you said you loved me, you had my heart forever.” ~ Author Unknown. ~
I’m sprinting. Feet pounding into the ground. Legs charging forward.
Panicked gasps leave my throat and my lungs burn. I am not athletic. At all. I think I’m the only girl that had never hit a ball in peewee tee-ball, but I run as fast as I can, stopping on the side of the house to catch my breath.
The cops are lurching forward, flashlights in their hands. The front yard is pure chaos. Running. Screaming. Flailing limbs. I don’t know what to do. Or where to go. I can’t run forward. I can’t go back into the house. The cops are heading toward the porch, inching closer. They’ll search every inch of the crumbling farmhouse. I am sure of it.
I remembered a party a couple of years back where we were caught partying on someone’s private property. Of course we didn’t know it was private property at the time, the ‘No Trespassing’ sign had fallen off the gate.
But what I remembered more vividly than anything, was the cops aiming their flashlights, shining them on the bushes right across from where I was a hiding. A second later they pulled two senior boys out of those bushes and arrested them.
I shudder when I think about that moment.
My fear is replaced with agitated curiosity. Who called them?
Somebody had to have called them. We’ve been partying at this location for the last year and none of our past parties have ever been busted. But who called? There isn’t a house for miles, but the music was really loud. I could hear the thumping base from the amps at the end of the driveway when I arrived.
They’re getting closer. The sound of footsteps scuff against the gravel. I spin around. The open yard is vast, empty. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. My eyes center on the open field behind the house. The long grass sways as the wind whips through it.
Finally I decide if I can stay really quiet, hiding in that long grass is going to be my best chance and keeping away from the cops and keeping my mom from giving me the responsibility lecture. And believe me; I’ve heard that lecture enough.
Dogs bark in the distance and the cops are so close I can hear their muffled voices. One of them has a megaphone and the loud squeak from it howls out. “Stop running! Stay where you are!”
I’m already in the grass, getting farther and farther away from the house.
“Stop running!”
I glance over my shoulder and realize they aren’t yelling at me. I push myself harder, running faster, and pieces of yellow grass get stuck in my hair. I don’t care. All I can think about is getting as far away from the house as fast as I can, but I’m winded. My breaths are clogged in my throat and my mouth is the Mojave Desert, hot and dry.
A few feet. Just a few more feet and I’ll crouch down and hide.
I don’t make it.
My foot catches on a divot and I fall, thudding onto someone or something, hard. I open my mouth to scream, but a sweaty hand clamps it shut.
I’m terrified, trembling with fear. I even whimper. I’m in the middle of a huge field. It has to be after midnight and I’m on the run from the cops. Now a stranger has his hand covering my mouth.
I chomp down and bite.
“Owww!” His voice is half of a whisper, half of a scream. “Damn it, Riley! Why did you bite me?”
The familiar deep, beautiful voice that reminds me of hot caramel dripping off a spoon calms me down. “Henry?” I reach out and feel up his chest, inching my fingers toward his chiseled jaw line. “Oh, Henry!”
“Shhhh.”
I taste his breath. The hot air wafts into my mouth and it tastes sweet, like candy apples mixed with cinnamon.
He’s lying on top of me. Our eyes are locked. He smoothes back a few fly-a-ways that came out of my ponytail while I was running. His fingers brush against my forehead and I feel myself unraveling. “You’re so beautiful,” he croons.
There’s nothing particularly beautiful about me. My hair is a mousy ash blond and poker straight. I have a body like a board; long, straight, and narrow. And even though I don’t think I’m attractive, Henry always tells me how beautiful he thinks I am.
I’m enamored. Smitten. And even though he’s pinning me down, I feel like I’m flying; soaring through the air.
I flit my fingers across his cheek and he kisses the back of my palm. A moan leaves my throat. I’m so twisted with ecstasy that I convulse and moan louder.
Henry places his hand back over my mouth and my eyes roll up as lights dart and flicker above us. The brightness glows against Henry’s face and I touch the long dark lashes that hang down, delicately framing his pale blue eyes.
He kisses the tips of my fingers and I want him to kiss every inch of me.
The lights cut out and Henry lifts himself off of me. “Wait here,” he tells me.
“Where are you going?” My back stiffens and there’s panic in my voice.
He’s crouching down in front of me. Waiting. Watching. Like a predator tracking its prey. “I’m just going to see if the coast is clear.”
As he crawls past me I grab his wrist. “Don’t leave me, Henry, I’m scared.”
“I promise I’ll be right back.”
His feet crunch against the grass and the sound of footsteps echo in the distance. Pretty soon, the sound of the footsteps cut out all-together.
I wait. For seconds. Minutes. I reach into my pocket and whip out my cell. A text from Rosa.
R U ok? Did U make it out?
I text her back.
Yeah.
My eyes shift to the time. Henry has been gone for almost an hour. I’m worried and angry. He promised me he’d come back for me.
I get up on my knees and peer over the grass. The cops aren’t in the backyard anymore. On my feet, I creep toward the house, trying to be as quiet as possible in case I might be surprised again.
There’s no wind and an eerie silence has crept over the property. My nerves are all over the place and an uneasy feeling swirls around in the pit of my stomach. Henry, where are you? I lurch forward and stop at the side of the house. There is a cop car parked toward the end of the driveway. I squint, and I think I see a cop sitting in the car.
I wonder if he’s taken down my license plate number. I wonder if he’s called my mom. I don’t want to get close enough to find out.
I walk around the back of the house and open the sliding glass door. “Henry,” I whisper. “Henry are you in here?”
The house is creepy, belting out eerie creaks from the upstairs, and dark, the only light is the moon, beaming in through the back door. Unknown shadows dance along the brown walls and I swear I hear whispering. The flickering lamp that used to be in the kitchen is gone. A door swings open and I jump. Then a bright light fills the room. Henry smiles at me from the utility closet and holds out a red cup. “Want some?”
Shaking my head, I tiptoe forward and once I’m inside, Henry closes the door and locks it. I snatch the cup from him and fill it up. Then I hop up on the dryer and take a giant gulp.
Henry looks at me puzzled. “What’s wrong?”
“You left me out there for an hour by myself.” Even though I’m overjoyed to see him and glad that nothing has happened to him, I’m still mad about him not keeping his word.
He scoffs, “The second I tried to come back outside the cops were back there again. I wasn’t trying to get arrested.”
“So you leave me so I can?”
Henry hops up onto the washer and sits next to me. “Relax, Ry. If I thought something bad was going to ha
ppen to you, I wouldn’t have left you.”
I roll my eyes. “How chivalrous.”
A wicked leer appears on his lips. “Somebody is being difficult.”
We laugh. He knows me so well. He knows that I always have to be the first to get my point across, that I hate to be the first one to admit I’m wrong, that I hate gossip, and broken promises. His eyes find mine. An intense glare and he’s memorized every inch of me, inside and out.
He breaks out into a full on stare. I’m blushing and inside I’m singing a chorus of praises for him, but that chorus fades and is replaced with fear. “Henry?”
“Yeah?”
“What’s going to happen to us?”
He scoots closer. “What do you mean?”
“I mean how long do you think this will last?”
Closer and closer. “I guess that depends on a lot of things.” He pulls me toward his chest and envelopes me in his arms. I’m home. I feel like I belong here. I want to stay here, in this moment, forever and ever. Blanketed by his arms, his soft, tender touch, his smell, his mouth on mine.
“Depends on her?”
“Not necessarily.”
I’ve never asked him to break it off with his girlfriend. I know that sounds silly. When our relationship began I was attracted to him, but I wasn’t sure how deep my feelings for him would become. I’d told myself that we would just be having fun.
“Do you love me?” It’s a sincere question. He’s told me he has before.
He doesn’t speak. Only nods.
“Do you tell her that you love her?”
Another nod.
“Do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Love her?”
He shrugs and stares off blankly. “I used to. I’m not sure how I feel about her anymore.”
I give him a questioning look. “Is that the truth?”
His lips form a straight line and he gives me a strange look. “What’s with the twenty questions? “
I take another sip of my beer. “I don’t know, Henry. Sometimes I think about what we’re doing and how maybe we shouldn’t.”
“Why would you say that?”
“What if eventually I become crazy? What if, despite what I’ve said in the past, this really does get to me? I’m already so involved.” I don’t know if I’d be able to handle it if this ends badly.
Henry sets his cup down. He curls his fingers around the nape of my neck. I look away, but he pulls me closer and places his warm lips against my ear. “I need you,” he whispers. I can’t fight him. I’m completely undone. My conscience slips away from me. Tattered and torn lying in pieces on the floor. Another whisper, “Let me love you. Let me worship you.”
He hops off the washer. Part of me is mad, mostly at myself because I can’t tell him no. People say, you can always say no, but those people don’t know Henry. Henry and his magnetic gaze. Henry who oozes perfection with every brush of his fingers,
every irresistible whisper, and every mind-blowing kiss.
I’m not even drunk from the beer. I’m drunk off of him. He digs his fingertips into my thigh and pulls me to the edge of the dryer. Then crushes his mouth to mine.
As the tip of his tongue brushes against the roof of my mouth, I’m seeing fireworks. An explosion of colors, brilliant and beautiful. The explosions of beauty leave a trail of colored smoke in the sky and a trail of colored smoke in my heart. Red. Bright red. The color of passion. The color of love.
He pulls away. “Come back.” I’m panting. His kisses knock the wind out of my lungs. I crave him, like chocolate. I want to taste him.
My legs are wrapped around his back and he places both of his hands on my cheeks and just stares. Two sets of blue eyes, gazing intensely into one another’s. We’re gone. Swimming in seas of blue on some deserted, uncharted island.
I’m fascinated. I can’t move. He’s a hypnotist. One snap of his fingers and I’ll be clucking like a chicken.
We’re both breathing, soft and slow. He reaches up and yanks the hair-tie from my hair. “You don’t know what you do to me.”
Then his lips caress mine. It’s only a brush, but the warmth overheats every part of me. Leaning back, my elbow bumps into the power button on the dryer and the old appliance starts moving. Spinning. Spinning like my head. Like my heart.
My hands are in his hair and his arms wrap around my waist tighter. I know what Henry does to me. I’m space bound. A rocket about to blast off. And all I want is for Henry to send me to the moon.
Chapter 4
“For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed. It was my soul.”~ Judy Garland ~
I’ve had other boyfriends. Even though I can’t really call Henry my boyfriend, none of the boys I’ve dated in the past have made me feel the way he does.
Tomorrow is the first day of school. My last year. And I’m dreading it.
I’m sitting in the kitchen and I chew my cornflakes mechanically as I stare at the crème walls. Mom takes a seat next to me and the sound of her coffee cup clinking against the table snaps me to attention. She takes the folded newspaper to her right and spreads it open. She doesn’t look at me, but strikes up a conversation. “Any plans for today? It’s your last day of summer.”
“Ugh,” I growl. “Don’t remind me.” I shovel another spoonful of cornflakes into my mouth. “Hey, Mooom?”
“You swallow that mouthful of food first,” she tells me. “You’re mumbling.”
Mumbling schmumbling. I chew the remainder of my breakfast and swallow. “Do you think I can have some money?”
“For?” There’s and edge to her voice, she doesn’t look at me. The article about the housing market in the paper seems more interesting.
“I need to get a few more things for school.”
“But you got all kinds of new school clothes.”
Clothes that she picked out. We don’t really have the same kind of taste. She’s frillier—more girly. I’m more simple and casual. I didn’t say anything at the time. I just let her buy me the clothes because she took me on the mother-daughter shopping trip right after dad moved and I figured she’d had enough drama over the last few months. Why create more? And the look on her face when I actually let her buy me dresses and pink lacey tops and jewelry warmed my heart. She was so happy—excited. It was the first time I’d seen her like that since I was a child.
“I know,” I say. “I just need a few minor things. Like a couple tank tops.”
“Oh.” She stands and fetches her purse from the counter. “Okay, sweetheart.” She sits back down and pulls out her wallet and hands me a hundred dollar bill. “Is that enough?”
“That’s plenty, mom. I’ll probably have change.”
“Just keep it. You’ll probably need lunch money for the rest of the week.”
“Yeah.” Packing your lunch stopped being cool in elementary school.
****
Rosa honks her horn from my driveway. “Later, mom!” I’m hanging half-way out the door. “I’ll be home in a few hours.”
“Bye, honey! Have fun!”
Meh, fun. I’m not exactly a shopping kind of girl. I like thrift stores and vintage tees. The mall isn’t my scene, but I did eye these awesome ripped jeans in the window of Hollister at the beginning of the summer. Hopefully they still have them. And hopefully they are on sale.
Rosa reaches over and opens the passenger door. She has a 1963 VW bug that her father restored. It’s lime green. We call the small German masterpiece the booger. Sometimes the door handle sticks on the outside so Rosa always has to reach across and open it for me whenever she drives anywhere.
I climb into the car, close the door, and fasten my seatbelt.
“Dude,” Rosa gasps. “How crazy was last night?”
So crazy. So hot. So amazing.“It was something.”
She puts the booger in reverse and backs out of my driveway. “You never texted me back.”
“Sorr
y, but I was too busy wondering when or if I was going to get arrested.” I was also too pre-occupied with Henry.
“So what ended up happening?”
Henry and I had a moment on a dryer. I’m blushing and I don’t say that out loud. In fact we had several moments on the dryer. “I hid in the field behind the house until the cops left.”
“Oh that sucks.”
“Tell me about it. This morning I was picking pieces of dead grass out of my hair.” Actually, Henry picked them out last night while he was holding me. God, I’m getting really good at lying and making it believable. “Do you know who called the cops?”
“Farrah Cuppler’s mom. Damn it, some jackass brought her home and left her passed out in her front yard.” Rosa turns right and enters the freeway on ramp. “There’s always one person who ruins it for everybody.”
“Very true.”
“Now we’re going to have to find a new place to go.”
He Loves Me...He Loves You Not Page 2