Let Me Love You: A Novel

by Praks, Wanitta

  “That isn’t how I expect a tutor to behave. Such a bad example.” I hear him chuckling over the phone.

  “What do you want? Stop calling me.” I can’t restrain my voice this time. I have too much anger and annoyance inside me to remember how to keep my voice down.

  “How many times do I have to tell you? I want you to come and tutor me. Come on, be a responsible person. Finish what you’ve started.”

  “No. I’ve already given you a replacement. It’s your own fault you didn’t want Mandy to teach you. Good-bye.”

  “If you put the phone down this time, I’ll take drastic action. And believe me, you won’t like the result.”

  “Stop threatening me. Go to hell,” I swear and slam the phone down, feeling my heart pumping very hard.

  “Ivy?” Clare asks in concern. “Who is it? Is someone trying to harass you?”

  “No, Clare, just some random person who got the wrong num—” I glance at the home phone when it begins to ring again.

  This stupid guy. Why won’t he leave me alone?

  “I told you to stop calling me. I’m no longer your tutor,” I immediately yell into the phone.

  “Ivy!” comes an old lady’s voice.

  Oh no. It’s Mrs. Dale, one of the head organizers of the PHST program.

  “Mrs. Dale,” I say weakly.

  “It really is irresponsible of you to neglect Zac.” Mrs. Dale starts her lecture and reprimands me for dropping Zac after giving him only two lessons. “His father donates huge funds to our school and the hospital every year. The least we can do is provide him with the tutor he wants. Zac needs to pass his algebra test before he graduates next year. So please don’t let me down. I know you’re a good tutor. That’s why I’ve assigned you to him.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Dale.” I slump my shoulders in defeat.

  “That’s great, Ivy. I’m counting on you from now on.”

  Is there no way to escape Zac? Right now I want to hit my head against the floor so badly. I really want to do that, but “Crush” stops me in time.

  I pick it up and answer. “Hello.”

  “I will see you at 4:30 tomorrow with chamomile tea and chocolate cake waiting. Have sweet dreams tonight.” And then the call ends.

  I drown in anger, throwing my phone onto the couch and storming straight up to my bedroom to fume, forgetting about dinner. I stay there until the sun disappears and huddle up in a corner with my baby blanket around me.

  Oh God, why can’t I get rid of him? I close my eyes and try to calm myself down.

  What can I do? I’m trying to forget everything from the past. I know Zac is innocent, but seeing him would only be a cruel reminder of my nightmare. Because the solid reason is Zac is Dillon’s brother. They have the same eye color. They’re siblings. That’s enough reason already to not associate with him. So why must he make it hard for me to let him go?

  It’s only when the moon starts streaming its light into my room that Clare comes in and delivers my dinner.

  I apologize to her for my previous behavior. She ruffles my hair and smiles.

  “You’re still a kid, so I don’t mind you acting like one. I get worried when you’re too serious sometimes,” she says, sitting down on my bed. “I know I’m not your real sister, but if you need someone to listen to, I’m here for you.”

  “Clare…” I go to hug her, touched by her words. “Don’t say that. We’re family. Of course I think of you as my sister.”

  After our sisterly embrace, Clare asks, “So you want to talk about it?”

  I hesitate. I don’t want to tell them about Zac or the fact that I’ve seen that man again after five years, laughing and living freely in this town. To tell Clare this, she would return to her vengeful state.

  “There’s nothing at all, Clare.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Mm-hmm.” I nod.

  “Okay,” she says, knowing I won’t be giving her any further answer. “Well, sleep tight, then. I brought your cell phone back. I think Mandy texted you a few times. The phone kept on beeping while we were eating dinner. ”

  I take the phone from her hand and thank her. Saying good night to Clare, I shut the door and check the texts.

  There are a total of four texts. Wow. I can’t believe Mandy would text me that much in the span of a few hours. Usually she would just call and we’d chat.

  I open the first one. It’s Mandy reminding me to meet her in the morning so we can discuss why I’ve decided to ditch my job as an algebra tutor to her future boyfriend Zac.

  I move to the next text. This one is from an unknown number.

  Do you like chamomile tea? I could make you something else if you don’t.

  Huh? I don’t even drink tea.

  I check the third one.

  How about chocolate cake? Do you like cakes?

  What cake? Who’s texting me?

  Don’t worry about replying. I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a good night’s sleep. Sweet dreams, my dear tutor.

  “Zac,” I conclude as all three texts merge together.

  I check the first text he sent me and delete it, my fingers doing their magic so fast I have to make sure I deleted the right one. I’m all pumped up, getting my revenge by deleting all his messages, when the last one comes up and my eyes catch those words. Sweet dreams, my dear tutor. My hand wavers over the delete icon, unable to push it. On second thought, I leave the last text in my cell and start banging my head on the table. I groan.

  Oh, Ivy, what is wrong with you? You have a crush on Zac? You do, don’t you? Ugh…

  I think I hit my head too hard. I rub my forehead and groan again.

  You know it’s wrong to have a crush on him. You know he’s related to that man. It’s your punishment for liking him.

  I shake my head to deny this reasoning. Trying to forget about Zac, I log on Facebook. On the top right-hand corner is a private message for a friend request. I open it up and groan again.

  Zac Elliot requests you as a friend. Do you know Zac?

  I groan and start banging my head on the tabletop again.

  Will I ever get away from him?

  Chapter 8

  ZAC

  Revelation

  Seeing Ivy is like seeing a ray of sunshine on this dull, gloomy day. Even the dullest cloud can’t wipe the grin off my face as I open the door to let her in. She drops her bag and starts on our lesson right away without even saying hello, which is weird.

  At least accept the chocolate cake and tea I brewed for you.

  I’m a little taken aback. I didn’t expect Ivy to be this badly tempered. She didn’t even ask if I understand any of the stuff. I can’t even get a word in as she drones on and on. I want to cut in a bit, but she won’t give me the chance. Finally, our lesson comes to a close. She turns to me.

  “Where’s the homework I asked you to do?” she asks in her frosty voice.

  Is she still mad with me from last time?

  “How about we have our tea and chocolate cake first?” I ask instead, trying to perk her up.

  I know the tea must be cold by now, but I really want her to try the chocolate cake Catalina and I worked so hard to bake.

  I begged Catalina last night to help me bake the cake, even though she isn’t all that good with baking herself. But Catalina said because I behaved like a boy whose girlfriend would be visiting tomorrow, she would help me.

  I told her Ivy wasn’t my girlfriend. She only laughed and asked, “But you like her, don’t you?”

  I only gave her a grunt and a snort, then hobbled away, blushing, thinking maybe if Ivy did like my cake, she might consider me as her potential boyfriend. I heard her laughing behind my back.

  When we finished the cake, I had a taste of it and was on cloud nine. It was sensational on my tongue. I imagined Ivy taking a bite of the cake too, and then we would both fly to cloud nine together.

  Wanting to make sure everything was perfect, I even texted Ivy just to make sure she likes chocolate cake,
but when she didn’t reply in time, I assumed she must.

  Well, all the girls at school seemed to like chocolate cake. But from the frosty situation right now, maybe Ivy doesn’t like chocolate cake.

  I curse myself. Maybe I should have waited for her reply before going ahead with the baking. Now it’s too late.

  “Homework,” she says again, her tone cold as dry ice.

  Fine. Homework. We’ll leave the cake for now.

  I go to the pile of algebra sheets I printed out. Somewhere among this junk is my homework.

  I turn to Ivy. She still has on her sour mask.

  I smirk.

  Time to liven things up.

  I pull out my homework sheet buried at the bottom of the pile. Wanting to get a reaction out of her sour face, I decide to pretend to look a bit longer.

  There’s none.

  I mumble, “I put it in here somewhere.”

  She still doesn’t reply. She just sits there with a straight face and waits for me.

  I’m disappointed. Why all this tension?

  Losing the fun mood, I hand her the worksheet and sit back down. Ivy starts marking my work.

  I’m losing my motivation to speak. And I’m bored stiff.

  Now that I realize I like her, I want to talk to her. It can be about anything, from that purple cardigan she’s wearing again today to the reason she covers her face with those bangs.

  I must admit I don’t like them. Yeah, sure, it looks nice sometimes, but it blocks her eyes, and I like looking at her chestnut eyes when I talk to her.

  Just wait. When I get to be her boyfriend, I’ll zap that fringe off myself.

  I can almost hear myself doing the evil laugh, except it’ll be a long way yet before I can be her boyfriend. We’re not even in the friend zone yet, so how can I be her boyfriend?

  Ivy looks tense. She has a frown on her forehead—the side that I can see, of course.

  A little piece inside me shrivels, making me sad. Maybe I should cheer her up.

  “Ivy,” I say, nudging her shoulder.

  Ivy shifts her seat a little farther away and glares at me.

  What? Am I contagious or something?

  Of course I don’t ask her that. While she’s busy glaring at me, I take my cue. I pull the homework sheet from underneath her hand and quickly write something. Then I give it back to her and grin.

  She looks at me weirdly, then sees my scrawling writing on the sheet. I smirk.

  S + E = X

  Ivy turns to me.

  “Just trying to break the tension,” I say, giving her my cheesiest smile ever.

  Ivy doesn’t smile back, nor does she acknowledge that I’m trying to cheer her up. She just goes back to marking my work.

  I make a grumbling sound. Kai always says it resembles the sound of an ape going nuts for bananas. I wonder if that’s what Ivy’s thinking when she gives me that stare again.

  I’m quite disappointed that my plan didn’t grab her attention, though.

  Is she still mad with me from the other day because I went to the library to annoy her? I mean, come on, she didn’t turn up for her work. What was I supposed to do? She wigged. Unless she’s still mad with me because I kept on ringing her phone yesterday. Well, if asking her to be my tutor wasn’t working, I had to go higher up.

  Ivy’s head is still down, which means she still ignoring me. Finally, on the last page of my homework, she signs it and hands it to me.

  “You did great. My job here is done. I’m going now.”

  What? That’s it?

  “Wait!” I stand up to grab her hand just as she’s about to leave the chair. “Let’s have our tea and cake before you leave.” I hastily hand her the cup of tea. “You didn’t even get to drink—”

  Cold tea spills all over my hand.

  Is she really that mad with me?

  Ivy glares at me, her breathing labored. I glare at her, my breathing also labored. Then she snaps and bolts to the door. I get to her first and catch her before she’s at the door.

  “Ivy,” I yell. “What the hell?”

  “Let me go, Zac,” she says, her voice shaking, her eyes still not looking at me.

  I don’t let her go. Instead, I pull her back and she slams into my chest.

  “Tell me. Did I do something wrong?”

  She pushes me away from her and this time gives me an intense stare, one that looks so painful it has me even more confused.

  “I am here as your tutor, Zac.” Her voice shakes when she speaks. “I’m not here as your chitchat friend. Now my job is done. I’m leaving. So let me go.”

  “Fine,” I yell.

  I let her go.

  Seriously, I’ve had enough of this shit.

  “Just go. Do whatever you want. Did you think I would grovel at your feet? Just because I requested you that doesn’t mean you’re all that special as a tutor.”

  Ivy leaves.

  Shit! Shit! Shit! This is so fucking wrong! I’m starting to swear like Dillon, but I don’t really care. All I do is slam my fist into the wall to relieve the frustration welling in my chest. It hurts like fucking crazy.

  I don’t want us to end like this. I need to know the reason Ivy is behaving this way. So I hobble after her on my crutches.

  Whether she’s a slow runner or I’m just fast on my crutches, I catch up to her. Just as she’s about to enter the lift, I pull her by the shoulder and drag her to face me.

  “You can’t leave me like that. No one walks away from Zac Elliot.”

  Ivy looks at me for a moment, staring, undecided. I know she wants to leave, so I block her path.

  I look into her eyes and there it is again, that subtle hint of sadness, a little bit of pain, and a whole lot of anger. Yet there’s something else in her eyes that I can’t decipher.

  “What is it? What’s the problem, Ivy?” I stress. I’m totally at my limit now.

  “My name is Ivy Hamilton,” she finally says.

  “Yes. Ivy Hamilton. I know.”

  Why is she telling me her name? I already know that.

  She starts pulling up her purple sleeve to reveal her forearm. Little by little, I can make out three deep scars running from her wrist all the way to her inner forearm. Then she parts her heavy fringe to the side to reveal her forehead. There’s a scar along the hairline, and I’m not sure where it ends because it’s hidden by her dark hair.

  I look at her, still confused as ever. Why is she showing me these scars? So what if there are scars on her body? It doesn’t affect who Ivy is as a person. I like her and I don’t care if she has scars. Unless she’s self-conscious of her imperfection.

  Shit! Now I feel bad. I get mad just because she doesn’t talk to me, but it’s because she’s scared of me judging her.

  “Ivy, it’s okay. They’re only scars.” I reassure her.

  “They are not just scars, Zac.” She lashes out at me. Tears stream down her cheeks.

  Oh shit! What did I do now?

  “They are memories, painful memories of what happened to me that night. Memories that I want to forget,” she tells me.

  I get it. She must have experienced some sort of trauma when she was young.

  “Do you remember what happened five years ago, Zac?” she asks again.

  “Five years ago?” I ponder this question. I’m not sure. What happened five years ago? Am I supposed to remember this?

  Let’s see. I turned twelve. Mum and Dad got divorced. And Dillon ended up doing community service because he was in some sort of car accident.

  “No, what happened five years ago?” I ask, my mind coming up empty. Unless it’s one of those events I mentioned above, which I think is highly unlikely, then I don’t know.

  “Five years ago,” Ivy narrates, “there was an accident. This accident took the lives of a girl’s parents and brother.”

  Okay. I’m pretty smart, so I know right away the girl Ivy’s talking about is actually her.

  So what? Why is she telling me this?
>
  “I don’t understand,” I tell her. “I’m sorry you had the accident, but what has that—”

  “Because your brother is the one who caused that accident.”

  Shit! This is not happening.

  “Your brother crashed into my parents’ car. He killed my parents. He killed my brother. And he almost killed me,” she sobs.

  Shit! This is seriously not happening. Someone please wake me up. Someone please throw a bucket of cold water and wake me up.

  “Now do you understand why I don’t want to teach you?” she whispers, her voice holding so much pain.

  “Ivy, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” I go to grab her hand, but she thrashes away from me.

  “Well, now you know, so let me go.”

  “I… I don’t want us to end like this. Can’t we talk about this?”

  “No, we can’t.”

  “But, Ivy, I’m not Dillon. We’re different people.”

  “It doesn’t matter. You’re brothers.”

  “But—”

  “Stop making excuses for him. I hate you. I don’t want to see you. Every time I see you, I see your brother. And when I see your brother, I’m reminded of everything we lost.”

  “But my brother and me, we’re not close. He doesn’t even live with me. He lives in Queenstown.”

  What is wrong with me? Why am I trying so hard to find one small grain of reasoning so I can see her?

  I know why. It’s because I like her. She lights up my world. She makes me happy. I can think of a million other reasons I need Ivy by my side. So I don’t want to give up on her just because of our circumstances.

  “I don’t care. You’re related.” She continues to hold her ground.

  “Ivy, why can’t you differentiate between us? I’m not my brother. He’s not—”

  “Stop it. Just stop it,” she cries, her body shaking with so much pain.

  I go to hold her again, but she only pushes me off.

  Finally, when she’s able to control herself, she stands up and faces me. “Listen to me clearly, Zac. From now on, I don’t want to talk to you or see you ever again. Even when you’re well enough to attend school and see me walking down the hallway, we will be nothing but strangers to each other. That’s how I want it to be.”