

He Loves Me...He Loves You Not

Lauren Hammond

Copyright © 2011 Lauren Hammond

Smashwords Edition

He Loves Me...He Loves You Not © Lauren Hammond 2011. All rights reserved. No part of this novella may be used or reproduced whatsoever without written permission except for quotations written in articles or reviews.

For information contact info@sbaddisonbooks.com

The characters and events in this novella are fictitious and are completely derived from the imagination of the author. Any similarities to real people either living or deceased are completely coincidental and are not intended by the author.

ISBN: 9780983868118

Find a guy who calls you beautiful instead of hot, who calls you back when you hang up on him, who will lie under the stars and listen to your heartbeat, or will stay awake just to watch you sleep... wait for the boy who kisses your forehead, who wants to show you off to the world when you are in sweats, who holds your hand in front of his friends, who thinks you're just as pretty without makeup on. One who is constantly reminding you of how much he cares and how lucky he is to have YOU... The one who turns to his friends and says, "That's her..." ~ Author Unknown ~
Prologue

"We that are true lovers run into strange capers." ~ William Shakespeare ~

It's hot. Unbelievably hot. Way too hot for the month of May. The thermometer outside my house read 96 degrees when I left to go on this walk. The sounds of summer linger in the air, birds chirping, sprinklers watering yards, and lawnmowers buzzing.

There's a smooth pebble the shape of an oval that I've been kicking down the sidewalk for the last mile. I'm glad to be out of my house. All mom wants to do is talk about dad and I'm sick of listening to her rants.

Despite the stifling heat, there's a cool breeze; a comfortable mixture of hot and cold that swirls around my head and blows my hair into my face. I swat at my poker-straight strands, peeling them away from my cheeks as the engine on the lawnmower next to me cuts out.

Bending down, I scoop my hair up and sweep it into a high bun. As I turn to continue my walk a boy strolls toward me. I freeze. He's shirtless, dripping with sweat and there's a hint of redness to his toasted almond skin; a remnant of the blazing sun. The boy smiles at me and I'm blinded by the beauty the smile adds to his features. He's a candle in the window. Everything is illuminated.

He hovers over the white picket fence surrounding his yard. The muscles in his toned arm flex. Currents of sweat rain down his arms in mini rivers. I follow the trails of perspiration with my eyes. This boy is like a cool glass of lemonade to quench your thirst and squash the heat. "Aren't you Riley Davis?" he questions.

My skin sizzles and tingles from the heavy sunshine, plus I'm certain I'm blushing. "Yeah."

He extends a sweaty palm. I glance at his hand then at his face. He looks at his hand and wipes it on the leg of his khaki cargo shorts. "Sorry. It's kind of hard to avoid sweating in this heat."

I giggle. "Yeah. It seems way too hot this early on." I examine him. He's glistening, like the drops of dew on the grass in the early morning. "You look like you could use a drink or something." I'm fumbling my words. He makes me nervous, and as he crooks me another grin my stomach does a back flip.

He nods toward his house. "You want to come sit on the porch with me? My Mom just made sweet tea."

I think over his offer for a second. I shrug. "Sure. Why not?"

He opens the gate to the fence and I walk through. "Do you always say 'why not' when strangers invite you into their home?"

I laugh. "For one, I thought we were just going to sit on the porch. And two, Henry Garner, I've known you since first grade, you technically aren't a stranger—even though we've barely said two words to each other."

Later on the porch, he gives me a smoldering glance as sweat drips down his temples and bright smile spans across his lips. "You're different, Riley. I can tell that already."

I shrug. "I'm not different. I'm just me. It's a shame it took you this long to notice."

He shakes his glass of tea and the ice cubes swirl around, clinking and clanking on the side of the glass. He looks at me solemnly. "It definitely is."
Chapter 1

"Love prefers twilight to daylight."~ Oliver Wendell Holmes.

Friday night is for lovers. An early morning tryst. A passionate dalliance.

It's two in the morning, but I can't sleep. I'm anxious because I know he'll be here any minute.

I watch the moonlight as the glowing beams seep through my open window and dance along the hardwood floor. A minute passes. Then five. Next ten.

A cool summer breeze whips through my pale blue curtains and the sound of soft footsteps cuts into the silence engulfing my bedroom. He pushes back the curtains and I swear I can see his perfect smile gleaming in the dark.

Henry.

The anxious feeling subsides as the springs in my mattress squeak and Henry crawls into bed with me. His warm fingers slide over my bare hip and I shiver. My time with him is limited so when I get it, I'm happy, so happy that I cry. His touch thrills me, electrifies me, and sends a jolt throughout my body.

"You're too far away," he murmurs. His voice reminds me of the man in black. Deep, raspy, sexy.

I let out a restrained laugh. "I'm right next to you."

"Still not close enough."

He tugs on my hip bone and I scoot backwards, closer. So close that I feel like at any given moment we might melt together and become one.

He exhales into the curve of my neck and his hot breath trails down my back, igniting my insides. I swallow hard, so consumed with my desire for him that the burning sensation coursing through my veins is overwhelming. I contemplate telling him to hold me forever. To never let me go. But I don't. That might sound too needy. Too desperate.

He kisses my hair and whispers, "I missed you."

I reach for his arm pulling it around me tighter. Goosebumps rise all over my body as his fingertips tickle my stomach. My voice quivers, "I missed you, too."

I find his crystalline blue eyes in the dark and he crooks me a wicked yet beautiful smile. "Kiss me."

And I do. I kiss him fervently and passionately. My lips flutter overtop of his in a frenzy of seductive bliss and inside I tell myself I'd rather suffocate than sacrifice a moment from kissing him to come up for air.

He rolls over, half on top of me and clutches my bare thigh. I'm delirious. Lost in him. My fingers dig into his back as his lips brush against my collar bone.

Henry. Henry. Henry.

Inside I'm screaming. Don't stop. Never take your hands off me. I love you.

But those thoughts are unrealistic fantasies.

He's taken. Some other girl's property. And just like me, she anticipates a gentle brush from his lips. She anticipates his warm enchanting smile, and his tender loving touch.

And sadly she has something that I don't...

All of him.

****

An hour later, he's putting his pants on, kissing my forehead and sliding back out my window.

"Stay," I say, softer than a whisper.

I know he won't. He never does. And for me to think that he ever will is wishful thinking.

He doesn't hear me. He's gone. And I lose it.

I shove my face into my pillow and scream. Cry. Sob. An agonizing, dull pain pumps through my heart and I feel like I'm dying inside.

I'm trembling, tucked into a ball. I'm so weak that it makes me sick.

If I was a strong person, I'd tell him to fuck off and never crawl back through my window ever again.

I'd tell him that what we're doing isn't okay. Cheating is morally wrong. But I love him so much it makes my whole body ache when I think I might never see him again.

Now I truly understand what it feels like to be the other woman.
Chapter 2

" _Love is not blind; it simply enables one to see things others fail to see."~ Author Unknown ~_

There's always a party the Saturday before the first day of school. A final celebration of summer coming to an end. It's not a celebration for me. I'll miss summer. My time with Henry.

Henry Garner. The most beautiful boy I've ever seen and the only boy I've ever loved.

Will we still see each other? And if we do how much will the relationship we have now change? I don't know for sure and the thought of his absence scares me.

The party is held in an abandoned farmhouse on the outskirts of town. Miles away from the road, tucked between a rotting barn and field full of over-grown grass. I've been to parties here before. The family that used to live here abandoned it a few years ago. Sometime later it became the hot spot for reckless and wild behavior.

I go alone. My best friend Rosa texts me as I park my car in the abandoned field.

I'm running late. Meet U in an hr.

Music blasts, filling the field. The bass from some crappy rap song bumps so loud that as I walk up the gravel driveway I can hear the house rattling.

The sun is setting and the sky above me is a mixture of hues. Blue, orange, pink, and yellow all swirled together to make a lovely shade of violet. My feet scuff against the gravel, kicking up rocks as I take each step forward and the party-goers come into view.

Kids from my grade and some from the grades below me crowd around the porch smoking cigarettes and holding red cups. Farah Cuppler, a junior, with long curly red hair, stumbles to the edge of the porch, gripping one of the crumbling wooden columns and starts puking. Puking already? I wonder when this party started. Or if it's already over. Or if maybe Farah got way too wasted way too fast.

There's a crunching noise coming from spots in the dead, swaying grass, followed by whispering and huffing. Hook ups. I assume most of the rooms in the house are occupied, but I can see the appeal in being outside to do what they're doing. A rush of adrenaline only enhances your senses and your buzz.

I scale the rickety wooden steps and spot Henry in the darkness. He's on the edge of the porch talking with a group of his friends. We exchange an affectionate glance. My heart pounds. My pulse races. I'm hot for him—lusting for him—and it all it took to get me there was a seductive glance and a demure smile.

His eyes wash over me, taking in my appearance from head to toe. He looks hungry. And ravaged. I don't know why. I'm not dressed particularly sexy or anything. In fact, I think I look like someone who works in a library.

A slight chill was in the air when I left the house so I opted for a pair of jean shorts and long sleeved baseball tee. My hair is pulled back in a ponytail and I'm wearing my night-time glasses.

I look away from him and open the front door. I step forward when Callie Banfield stumbles out the door, missing the small drop from the interior of the house to the porch. She falls into my shoulder and spills beer all over herself. "Watch where you're going, _it_!" she yells. "This is a BCBG shirt!"

Laughter is stuck in my throat and a weird grunt comes out instead. I walk around her as she continues whining. "Whatever." Then I walk inside.

The music cuts out for a second then picks back up with a slow song. There are so many people I feel like an ant amidst larger ones in a colony. I push my way through the people and they don't seem to notice. Everyone is wasted.

Some guy I don't know grabs my arm. He smiles and one of his front teeth is slightly crooked. "Where are you going?"

Observing him, I peel his fingers off my arm. First of all, his beer breath is putrid and I almost plug my nose in disgust. Second he looks way older than seventeen or eighteen. Probably in his mid-twenties. And it bothers me that he's a party with a bunch of high school kids.

After I slip back into the crowd I yell, "Who knows?" If I tell him where I'm really going he might follow me and that's the last thing I want.

Three junior girls swish past me talking and taking sips from their red cups. Where are the people getting the cups of beer from? I scan the empty kitchen. A dull flickering lamp is plugged in in the corner and it gives the room an eerie vibe. The shadows of party-goers flash along the brown mildew-stained walls. A door opens to my left and a guy walks out. As soon as he passes I see that his cup is full.

Jackpot.

Being sneaky, I slip into the utility room. A frayed string hangs above me. I tug on it. Damn it. The light doesn't work. It's so dark I can't see a thing. As my eyes adjust to the darkness, metal gleams from the edge of the room. A keg. I brush against the old, slightly rusted washer and dryer, and pick up a red cup from the stack resting on the top of the cold aluminum container.

Taking a swig, I walk out of the utility room and my attention shifts to a sliding glass door. Whenever I came to parties here in the past this is what I'd usually do. Sit on the patio and watch the stars.

I close the door behind me and my phone vibrates in my pocket. I hold my cup with my teeth and whip my phone out. A text from Rosa.

I'm here! Where R U?

I text her back.

Do U evn have 2 ask?

Patio?

Yup.

Where's the dmn beer?

Kitchen. Utility clst.

I snap my phone closed, shove it back in my pocket, and plop down on the cold concrete. Rosa slides the door open. "Hey. Hey. Hey!"

My head turns. "That was fast."

She sits down next to me. "I was in the kitchen when I sent you the first text."

Nursing my chilled, cup of fermented awesomeness, the burning balls of fire held up by a blanket of miles and miles of blackness distract me. There's something truly beautiful about stars at night. The way they glow, shimmer, and shine. The way they can change the entire mood of an evening.

Rosa interrupts my moment of ambiance. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing." That's what's so amazing. I can get lost in the sky and be thinking about absolutely nothing."

"How are your parents?"

"Fine, I guess." I don't want to talk about my parents and their marital woes. It's not that I don't care; it's that, that is all I hear when I'm home. My Mom never shuts up about it. "Can you believe your father?" she'd ask me.

In the past I'd answer her. Now I know it's better to keep my mouth shut. I know he cheated on her and I do feel bad. But, in a way I'm just like him because I'm doing the same thing and I don't want to think about what I'm doing being wrong especially because my time with Henry feels so right.

My thoughts shift to Henry. I let this relationship progress to the point we're at now because we're so similar. Not in the cheating aspect, but because I don't even need to say anything to him for him to know exactly what I'm thinking. He's a mind reader, forbidden lover, and a carnal urge. Among many things, and I love him for all of them.

I love the way he makes me forget about everything. I love the way he caresses my heart, like a nurse in the maternity ward, delicately caring for a newborn. I love the way he looks at me, like I'm the most appealing person he's ever seen and he can't help but stare. And I love the way a whisper leaving his throat sounds off in my head like Mozart, with his fingers of fury, creating a haunting melody with the ivory keys.

Rosa stands and I snap out of my trance. "Where are you going?"

"To mingle?"

I raise an eyebrow. "Mingle? With who?"

"Somebody. Anybody. The party is full of people and you're being a party foul," she gabs.

"Sorry." I take a swig from my cup. "You know how I get when I'm in my Zen zone."

"Yeah. Yeah." She waves me off. "Come find me when you snap out of it."

As I look back up into the sky, the door closes behind me. We're a surprise pairing, Rosa and I. I'm a loner. I don't like to talk and I firmly believe that sometimes some things are better left unsaid. Rosa, on the other hand makes up for what I lack—a voice. And sometimes, she uses hers too much.

She blabs a lot. About her business. Other people's business. She lives for gossip, but for some reason I can trust her with mine fully and whole-heartedly. She knows everything about me; my hopes, my fears, my pet peeves, and she has never mentioned a word of it to anybody.

There is one thing that I haven't mentioned to her yet, Henry.

Maybe because I'm not sure what we are. Maybe because I'm worried that if we get caught, the thrill involving our time together will disappear. I've thrived on that thrill for the last three months and I'm not ready to see it fade.

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 happen 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."

"Sorry, 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."

Rosa swerves into the oncoming traffic and semi-truck almost smacks into us. I flinch and lean toward the window. The truck driver lays on his horn and Rosa gives him a nasty look and flicks him off. "Up yours asshole!" She's the worst driver ever and that's why most of the time either I drive or she meets me whenever we make plans.

She looks at me incredulously. "Do you believe that guy?"

I don't answer. I just shake my head.

After I've escaped death twice today, with Rosa's bad driving and road rage, she adds three to that equation when she cuts in front of a mini-van and steals their parking spot. "Oops," she says to the angry woman as she exits the driver's side.

"You saw me waiting for that!" the woman shouts.

Rosa furrows her brow and wears a fake apologetic smile. "No, I didn't, sorry."

I wait until we get to the entrance before I start laughing. "You're hilarious. You know that?"

Her mouth hangs open. "What?" She shakes her head. "Don't even start. You know I'm going to start a petition where once you reach a certain age; you have to re-take your driver's test. Those old farts can't drive worth a damn!"

I nod, but what I really want to tell her is neither can you. Whichever instructor rode with her on that fateful day of her driving exam, well, I sure as hell hope somebody canned them already.

Upon stepping through the entrance, we're instantly pushing and shoving our way through a crowd. Somebody steps on my toes and I turn to the side and get elbowed in the gut. By the time I make it through the mass of bodies I feel like I've been trampled on by a herd of cattle.

Rosa stands off to the side with her arms folded across her chest and she's tapping her foot impatiently. My eye brows go up. "How did you get through that so fast?"

We start walking and she shrugs. "I pushed them back. When you start getting physical people move."

She's so brash. Sometime I wish I could be like that. "So where do you want to go, first?"

"Forever." Meaning _Forever 21._

"Cool. I'm down with that."

The brightness of the white walls, white floors, and spotlights stun my eyes as we walk through the entrance of Forever 21. It's a haven for teenage girls and the modern, yet contemporary store is filled with them. Squealing. Chatting. Gossiping. Holding up shirts and asking each other's opinions. A super tan brunette holds up a purple halter. "Do you think this will look cute on me?"

Her friend tsks, "Of course, Jessica, totally."

Music blares from the hanging over head speakers. A techno version of _Baby One More Time_. I turn to Rosa. "I'm gonna go check out the accessories."

"Cool. I'll be in the back, skimming the sale rack."

The accessories are majorly picked over and I browse through the rack of belts looking for a studded one to go with the jeans I plan on buying. Nothing catches my eye. Maybe _Buckle_ will have some?

I sift through the bin of headbands and I feel like someone's watching me. I lift my eyes slowly and see the blurry outline of a body in the mirror. I spin around and almost smack into Rosa. "Holy shit!" I exhale and the mountain of clothes in her arms fall to the floor.

"Geez!" she snaps. "Holy hell in a hand basket, what's wrong with you?"

"I'm sorry," I gush as I lean down to pick up her clothes. "I had this creepy feeling like someone was watching me."

She leans down and helps. "There are tons of people in the store. You need to chill. It was probably just someone looking at clothes behind you or something."

"You're right."

She looks at my empty hands. "You didn't find anything?"

"No. All of the belts are picked over. Looks like you did, though."

"Dude. The sale rack is like a smorgasbord of fashion fantasticness. Now come on. I'll try on the clothes and you can tell me if they look okay." I open my mouth to protest, but she doesn't let me get a word out. "Oh no, you're going to suffer through this whole girl to girl shopping experience with me. This is the only store I want to go to. Then we can go to Hollister or wherever it is you want to go, deal?"

I sigh, defeated. "Deal."

Outside the dressing room, Rosa leaves a huge pile of clothes in my arms. "I can only take in six at a time."

"You better hurry," I say impatiently as I sit down on a round pleather ottoman.

"I'll be as quick as I can." Then she dashes off and whips through the curtain in the last open fitting room.

"Having fun?" I hear him. I'd know his voice anywhere. Henry. He's also got a stack of clothes in his arms and I bust out laughing.

"I should be asking you that."

"Well if you were, the answer would be no."

"How long have you been in here?"

An eye roll. "Too long."

"Was that you who was watching me?"

A seductive smirk. "Maybe."

I touch a frilly hot pink top in his pile and hold it up to his bronzed arm. "Yeah Henry, hot pink isn't your color."

He shakes his head. "Very funny."

"Ro!" I shout. "How's it going in there?"

"Meh!"

I guess that means not so good.

Henry's staring at me. I feel his eyes on me and butterflies bounce around inside of me. I turn toward him, beaming. "What?"

"Nothing. I'm just looking at you. Do you have a problem with that?"

"You're not just looking, you're gawking."

He laughs and Rosa shouts, "Can you bring my next six?"

"Hey!" I snap. "I didn't sign up to be your servant!"

"Just bring me the clothes," she groans.

I stand outside of her dressing room and hand her the next six items. She stacks the three of the six she already has in my arms when I hear a high-pitched voice. "How does this look, babe?" His girlfriend.

Then Henry's reply, "Good, babe. It looks good."

I'm clenching my teeth. I don't why their interaction bothers me so much, but it does.

I'm frozen in my spot staring blankly ahead. "Okay," Rosa says. I don't move. The reflection of the lights in the mirror is fuzzy and that's all I'm focused on. "Ry?"

I can't hear her. My heart stops beating. Her voice is fading. All I hear is, _"Good, babe. It looks real good."_

"RILEY!" Rosa shouts so loud that the chandelier hanging above us shakes.

Several pairs of eyes turn toward us and I'm embarrassed. "Do you always have to be so loud," I comment.

"When I'm talking to you and you're not paying attention—which is ninety five percent of the time lately, yes I do."

"I pay attention to you."

"Really? Then why did it take me like five minutes to get your attention."

"I just have a lot on my mind, okay. Give me the rest of your clothes."

"I did. You're holding them."

I look down at my arms. "OH." Then I look over at the ottoman and Henry is gone.

My heart sinks. "Come back," I whisper.

Stay with me. Love me.

"What?" Rosa asks from inside the fitting room.

"Nothing, Rosa. I was just talking to myself."

I return to the ottoman and sit down. Then I glance around the store to see if maybe Henry is still here. I'm paralyzed. They are in the front of the store and Henry is fetching a top from a really high rack for her.

My cheeks are hot. My veins are pulsing. Is this what jealousy feels like? I don't like it. I'm staring at the floor, my vision blurring around the white tiles. I'm perplexed. _Henry. Henry. Henry._ He's filling up every part of my subconscious mind.

A set of feet come into my view and I look up. Rosa comes into view. She's wearing a floral dress that's adorned with a matching tan belt. She spins around, clutching the edge of the dress like a silent film star. "Well, what do you think?"

I'm detached. I can't fully focus. "It looks great."

"I think so, too," she says excitedly.

Our conversation is interrupted with, "Well, well." A high-pitched feminine voice. A voice I know all too well. Callie Banfield, Henry's girlfriend. I meet her gaze and she sneers at me. " _It_ , don't you know this a girls store? You don't belong here."

I narrow my eyes and scowl. I open my mouth to answer, but Rosa beats me to it. "Bitchzilla, don't you have a village to terrorize or something?"

Callie scowls and shakes her head. Henry comes up behind her and hands her a few tank tops. She stomps into the dressing room with a huff and Henry sits down next to me. I look away.

"Ry?" There's a gentleness in Rosa's tone and I know she's wondering if I'm okay.

I glance at her. She makes a silly face and I smile. Then she motions to her body. "So is this dress a yay, then?"

"Definitely."

"Cool. I'll be out with the next in a few." She turns her back to me.

"Ugh." I hope she doesn't hear my distasteful groan. I'm so over this shopping trip. She doesn't hear me. She slides back into her fitting room, with a gleeful sashay.

The cushion on the ottoman dips down as Henry scoots closer. Hidden by the piles of clothes in our hands, he laces his fingers through mine. His touch shocks me. A surge travels through my body and jumpstarts my heart.

And my heart stops again when I pull my hand away.

Henry leans closer, whispering into my hair, "Why did you do that?"

"Because," I say in a low voice. What I don't say is because I'm tired of being your dirty, little secret. Inside, I'm a piece of loose-leaf paper and he's stuffing me into the shredder. I'm slivers of white falling into a trashcan. " _She's_ in the dressing room."

He shrugs. "So. She can't see. We have all these clothes in our laps."

But I want her to see. "Just don't." My voice is cold and harsh. He looks at me, baffled.

He furrows his eyebrows. "What's wrong?"

Again another cold yet short response. "Nothing."

I'm not a sideshow affair. I'm not a secret locked in a dark closet. I'm a person. I have feelings. I matter. Does he even care how I feel?

"Riley," he murmurs. Just the sound of him uttering my name tortures me. All of the mixed emotions I'm feeling fight for the other one to be precedent. Love is the front runner, jealousy is second, and anger is coming up third ready pass up jealousy.

"Just stop, Henry."

I can't look at him. My eyes are watering and as I focus on the floor, tears free fall making tiny dots of wetness on the white tiles.

"Ry." He touches my hair. So soft. So gentle.

"Henry!" Callie snaps.

Henry yanks his hand away from my hair. "Yeah, babe."

_Babe. Babe._ Such a cute pet name. A pet name that he'll never say to me. I can't breathe. And I swear that my organs are shutting down.

I hate myself for loving him. I hate myself for being charmed by his beautiful smile. _Hate. Hate. Hate._ You're a fool, I think. And you deserve to feel the way you do.

I know that's harsh. To completely blame myself when this is just as much Henry's fault as it is mine, but then I think if I wouldn't have been such a weak person this would have never happened.

If I would have only just said hi the day I met him. I wouldn't have let myself fall in love with him. The truth is, I've been crushing on Henry since the third grade.

Even as a nine year old there was something gallant about him. He'd stand up for other kids on the playground. Be friendly with everyone. He was selfless.

One time in particular, I remembered him snapping at T.J Johnson when he pushed Matt Fischer into a chain linked fence.

When I was younger I was ten times quieter than I am now. But, every now and then, I'd see Henry and he'd flash me his brilliant smile and I'd end up blushing.

I'm gritting my teeth when I look up.

Callie glances between Henry and me. "What are you doing, Henry? Why are you touching her hair?"

I narrow my eyes at Henry. I'm wondering if he's going to tell her the truth.

He forces his words out. "She had something in her hair."

Coward. Coward. COWARD!

I stand and walk into an empty fitting room. I don't want to fall apart in front of him. Well, it's not necessarily because of him. I don't want to cause a scene and I know if I stay out there any longer I will. Inside, I'm an abandoned building, smashed by a wrecking ball. Hunks of my concrete walls crash into the ground and separate into smaller pieces. All that's left of me is particles lingering in the air. I'm dust.

"Ro?" My voice cracks and I swallow hard, trying to conceal my emotion.

"Hey, you!" She's always so bubbly and happy. It's one of the reasons why I love her. "You decide to try something on?"

"Yeah." Another quiver of my vocal chords.

"I can't wait to see how you look in it," she tells me.

Only she never will, because the only reason I came into the dressing room in the first place was to ball my eyes out into the t-shirt I'm holding.
Chapter 5

" _When love is not madness, it is not love." ~ Pedro Calderon de la Barca ~_

I think I'm starting to lose it. My mind. Like One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest style.

I'm not sure if I can do this whole casual thing with Henry. I've got to end it. Ever since we left the mall, he's all I've thought about, and hearing him talk to _her_ has made it even worse.

Callie will be there—in school. Up until now, every time I've seen Henry he hasn't been with her, _like at the same time with her_. She was at the party the other night, but I didn't see them together. I didn't hear the way he talks to her. But I did today. And I didn't like it.

I'm not a jealous person. I'm not, I swear, but this fling with Henry is making me think things I normally wouldn't think and do things I normally wouldn't do.

On the way home from the mall, Rosa drives through a rural neighborhood. There's a man outside mowing the lawn. I close my eyes and hear the lawnmower buzzing in my mind. The blades twirl in a circular motion as it cuts, slices, and mauls the grass. Then I see Henry so vividly in my mind. He was doing the exact thing the first time I met him and the flashback plays out like a movie in my head.

I see his radiant smile, the dimples in his cheeks, his tan skin with beads of sweat skimming down his chest. I sigh and close my eyes. That hot pre-summer day in May changed my relationship with Henry Garner forever. Why did he have to talk to me? Why couldn't he have just kept cutting his damn grass and left me alone?

I'm so caught up in my memories of Henry Garner that I almost miss my phone ringing. It rings out the toll of the bells and buzzes. It buzzes right off my nightstand onto the floor. It's Henry. I want to see him. I need to see him. Somehow I feel like tonight will be our last liason. Our last entanglement. I am going to end this tonight.

I answer the call. "Hello."

"Hey," he says. There's amusement in his voice.

"What's up?"

"Can I pick you up?"

I glance at the clock. It's eight. I might be able to swing this if I tell my Mom I'm going to Rosa's. "Yeah, but hurry. My mom isn't going to let me stay out real long."

"I'll be there in ten."

I'm downstairs in a flash. Mom is at the computer in her office. She absorbed in this dating website she recently joined. "Five foot three?" There's a hike in her voice. "No. No. That's way too short."

"Mom?" I hang through the door.

"Hi Riley. Do you need something?"

"I'm going over to Rosa's for a little bit. I'll be home in an hour."

She waves me off. "Have fun. Don't be too late." As I walk out the front door, I hear her mumble, "Investment banker, how nice."

It's humid out. The wisps of hair on the nape of my neck moisten and start curling. I've been waiting five minutes. Every second that passes feels like a year. Has it been ten minutes, yet? Has it?

I feel a thrill—excitement—a rush of adrenaline. Mostly I feel like Juliet, sneaking out in the dead of the night for a secret rendezvous with her beloved Romeo. We're a lot like Romeo and Juliet, Henry and I. We're a Shakespearean tragedy.

My Romeo pulls into the driveway, and I'm off the porch running to meet him. To crash into his arms like a car into a telephone pole, every bit and piece of me wrapping around him until he comes plummeting down on top of me.

He gets out of the car and opens the passenger side door. "What a gentleman," I joke.

He laughs. "I try."

Once he's back in the car and we're on the road I lace my fingers through his. I look up at him. How am I going to do this? End this? Every time I see him I fall. I'm free-falling. From great heights. Fast and furious and I know I won't splatter on the ground because he'll be there to catch me. Or will he?

Then I have this vision. Henry is at the bottom of a deep ravine. I'm falling and his girlfriend is falling. As we plummet toward the ground Henry is glancing between us. Torn. Uncertain. Save me, Henry. I wish he would, but I can't be sure. Which one will he catch? Who will he choose?

Henry. Henry. Henry. If you sing me the stars, I'll give you the moon. And I'll make it easy on you. Save me. Choose me. Love me.

He's staring at me. I catch him out of the corner of my eye. It's like he wants to see me unravel. Like I'm a spool of thread rolling for yards and yards until I'm at the end of a journey.

Then he licks his lips. The lips I covet. The lips I adore. He looks hungry and ferocious. He reminds me of a ravenous beast that wants to rip into my flesh and tear it apart piece by piece until all that's left is my skeleton. So that I'm bare bones. Only he can see my insides. He and he alone.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks me as he shuts off the car.

We're in an open field, parked in the center. Wildflowers everywhere. Light colors that glow in the dark. The sky above us is an open canvas and it looks like someone just took a paint brush and splattered the stars.

I shrug. "I dunno. Us."

"What about us?"

I break down. "I can't do this anymore." Then I run from the car.
Chapter 6

" _Love is just a word until someone comes along and gives it meaning."~ Author Unknown ~_

Henry is chasing me. I hear him calling my name, but I don't stop running. The wind is liberating and it whips through my hair and I bask in it. The calming effect the forceful breeze can have on a person is exhilarating. Part of me wants it to pick me up and sweep me away so that I won't have to worry about anything anymore. My parents. Henry. Henry's girlfriend. Lying to Rosa. I'll be free.

Henry tackles me and I squirm beneath him. "Let me go!"

"What is wrong with you?" He's concerned and frightened.

Tears spill onto my cheeks. "I can't. I can't do this anymore!" I love him, but he's driving me crazy. My obsession for him is driving me crazy. I'm convinced I'm batty. That I have a screw loose. _My mom visits me in my padded cell_ , kind of screw loose.

"Riley, I can't let you go. I love you." He sounds sincere, but guys always sound sincere when they want something from you. Right now Henry wants my essence. He wants my delight. He wants to take all of me.

I'm sobbing. "You don't mean that." Love is such a feeble, silly word. The word can be tossed around like it has no meaning. You can say you love anything. Food. Clothes. What matters is what's behind the word, the emotions. Happiness. Anxiousness. Nervousness. Sometimes even queasiness.

"I do mean it, I do," he tells me. He places his head below my breastbone. "Don't leave me. Don't end this."

"You can't possibly love both of us," I say. For a moment I feel like my soul is detached from my body and I'm standing off to the side witnessing this display of heartbreak and misery. "You're going to hurt me." He's already hurt me. Hurt from Henry is the equivalent to slicing both of my wrists open with a razor blade. He will be the death of me. "Henry, I can't."

"Please don't," he whispers and he inches his way on top of me.

I don't want to be in love with him, but he makes me. He makes me love him. Not because of his physical attributes. Those definitely fuel the attraction, but his genes aren't why I love him.

So many times when I'd needed someone, he was there in a second. Never hesitating. He'd drop whatever he was doing and rush to my side. I think of one time in particular where my dad showed up at our house and he and my Mom got into a heated argument on our porch. I had to get away from it and Henry scooped me up like a knight in a fairytale and took me away. He comforted me. Henry made me feel like as long as he was there nothing would ever harm me.

Except him. He's going to harm me. Eventually. I am sure of it.

Lightning fans across the sky accompanied by rumbling thunder. The angels are bowling. A crash. Somebody just got a strike.

The stars are blanketed by black clouds and another flash of lightning illuminates Henry's face above me. Tiny droplets of water fall from the heavens and land on my forehead. Another flash of lightning. His hands are all over me, touching me, caressing my skin, and I love it.

Rain comes down in torrents. It soaks right through my skin and I swear I'm wet to the bone. I sit up. He has a panicked, needy, desperate look on his face and it's amazing how fast I regret the decision I so adamantly made before. "I'm sorry," I tell him. I see the reflection of lightning in his light eyes. "I don't know what I was thinking." I can't end this. I'm so deeply in love—with him.

He doesn't answer me. He lunges for my mouth and as the thunder crashes so do our lips—into one another's.

The ground is wet, muddy. I'm slipping and sliding in filth. Henry's shirt comes off. His hands smack into the ground, then he places both hands on my cheeks pulling me closer and smearing dirt on my face. Another kiss. "Don't ever say that again!" he's shouting over the chaos that's going on in the sky.

"I'm sorry," I say again. "So sorry."

We're sopping and dirty. "Let's go back to my house," he tells me.

"Aren't your parents' home?"

"No."

I wrap my arms around his neck and my head falls into the curve. Then he scoops me up and carries me to the car like a newlywed bride, being carried over the threshold.
Chapter 7

" _I don't pretend to know what love is for everyone, but I can tell you what it is for me; love is knowing all about someone, and still wanting to be with them more than any other person, love is trusting them enough to tell them everything about yourself, including the things you might be ashamed of, love is feeling comfortable and safe with someone, but still getting weak knees when they walk into a room and smile at you." ~ Author Unknown ~_

Henry's room is a constant reminder of something I'll never have. All of him.

There's a picture of him and his girlfriend, Callie Banfield, on his nightstand. I flinch and look away. It's too hard to look at it because every time I do, I imagine my face in place of hers.

My chest tightens. I'm freezing. Soaking. Henry comes up behind me and rubs warmth back into me. He pushes my hair aside and leans close to me. "You're shivering."

He makes me shiver, shiver with delight.

"Come on," he tells me. He grips me by the shoulders and directs me to his adjoining bathroom. "You'll warm up after a hot shower."

Water. More water. Clear pellets of liquid refreshment rain down on me. I let some drip into my mouth then I spit it out. I'm in the shower, fully clothed. I watch the dirt as the brown residue washes away. Out of my hair. Off of my clothing and into the drain. It washes away like Henry and the way he washed away my innocence.

I take my clothes off, all but my bra and underwear, and toss them outside the shower. The door opens. Then it closes. I peel back the curtain. Henry has taken my clothes. He'd told me when we arrived he was going to wash them. He thinks I'd have a hard time explaining to my mom how they got so dirty.

Dirty like me.

I know what most people think about girls like me. Home wrecker and whore are two of the names that always sound off in my mind. Thinking of myself as either one of those names doesn't feel right because what I want people in general to understand is that I am neither one.

Our relationship progressed slowly. First, he'd come over and we'd sit on the porch swing and talk. Then he took me to a spot where we'd lay on the hood of his car and watch the stars. Not long after that he gave me my first, real kiss and sometime later, I gave him all of me.

He'd told me about Callie half-way through the summer, but I'd become so obsessed with him and just being with him that I didn't care. I'd told myself that some part of him was better than no part of him. But some part of him is beginning to break me. I want more. I need more. Because just like Callie, I'm in love with him too.

I touch my face. There's still a dirty residue, a remnant from when Henry touched my face with his dirty hands _. Dirty. Dirty. Dirty._ Dirty but beautiful. My heart goes up in flames when I think of that moment. Not even the water raining down on me, cleansing my entire body can put the blaze out.

Music cuts into the soothing sound of the water pouring on top of me. Jimi Hendrix. All Along The Watchtower. Henry is back in his room. The music devours me. I'm caught up in it. Classic rock. I close my eyes and let the sound of the guitar whirl through me. And I'm so deeply into it that I don't hear the curtain open.

Henry steps into the shower. His hands are on my waist. I'm not even thinking about the way his touch feels. That's a first. I'm thinking about school tomorrow and if I'll be able to handle it. I'm thinking about how stupid I am for not ending this, and I'm feeling like an addict who just can't shake her high. Always craving the drug. Always coming back for more. Henry is my drug. I want to get high off of him.

His palms brush against my stomach and despite the scalding hot water, I'm shivering. One slip of the arms later and he's embracing me. He's hot and his body against mine warms me up. Makes me boil. I think I'm sweating in the shower. He grabs my hair, staring down at me and I've never felt such a powerful hold over me by another human being.

He captivates me, mind, body, and soul. He numbs my senses. Silences the words on my lips. I'm melting. His free hand slides up around my neck and he cups the side of it. My hands slide up his face. I hold his cheeks in my palms and I cry. I cry hard. Tears flow like a flash flood.

He grazes his fingertips across my face. "Don't cry," he whispers, full of emotion. "Please." He gets on his knees and kisses my tears away.

I'm having a hard time controlling myself and I sob so hard I can barely breathe. "Promise me something," I say in between the sobs caught in my throat.

"Anything."

"Promise you'll never break my heart."

"I promise," he swears.

My love for him is deeper than the depths of the ocean. Deeper than the Grand Canyon. Deeper than the depths of emotion.

"Promise you'll always love me."

"I promise."

And in his own way I know he means it.
Chapter 8

" _One of the hardest things in life is watching the person you love, love someone else."~ Author Unknown ~_

Half of my face is hidden—shielded by my metal locker door. It's been painted recently. Tan. The smell of the paint still looms in the confined hallway and the musty scent fills my lungs. I'm trying to be coy as I stare at Henry. He's standing across the hall at his locker with her—his girlfriend Callie.

He hasn't acknowledged me at all today.

There is a small part of me that wishes he would notice me. Look at me, Henry. Please look at me. Yet at the same time, I don't want him to do anything obvious that she would notice. Why? Because I want to keep him. In my pocket. In my head. And right next to my heart.

Breaking focus, my eyes shift to the floor and the neutral colors in the tile blur in my peripheral vision. A screechy feminine laugh throbs in my ears and I look up. Callie's chestnut hair bounces on her shoulders as her laughter dies down.

Henry smiles wide. The sight of his smile cuts me open. He's feeding on my soul and he doesn't even know it. I crumble as his radiant blue eyes sparkle. He's only focused on her. Gazing at her adoringly, he brushes his fingertips along her cheeks and tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear.

I exhale. I'd convinced myself that seeing him with her wouldn't bother me, but it does. I'd told myself that even though he'd never show me any affection in public I'd be okay with it, but I'm not. The hurt squirms inside of me like maggots feeding off of a decayed carcass. I'm open. Exposed. I'm dying inside and I do everything I can to hide it.

"Hey!"

The locker behind me slams and I jump. Panting, I clutch my chest. "Rosa." I catch my breath. "What the hell?"

"Dude. WTF. I like texted a million times and called you last night. You pissed at me or something?"

"No. Not at all."

"Then what's with you ignoring me?"

"I was just busy!" I snap.

"Whoa! Someone's got a lil PMS."

"I'm just on edge. I wasn't ready to come back to school."

"Who was? I'd rather be anywhere than here."

Rosa peers around me and giggles, pushing her red metallic framed glasses higher up on the bridge of her nose. "What's so interesting?"

"Huh?"

"What were you looking at? You looked like you were daydreaming."

I grab a folder from my locker and close the door. "Nothing."

I'm lying to her and the fact that I'm being secretive with my best friend kills me. I trust her, but this is between me and Henry.

"Ugh," Rosa groans as she pushes herself away from the locker with her foot. She moves next to me and hugs her books tightly. "Doesn't that make you nauseous?"

I'm too afraid to look. Too afraid the jealousy that's beginning to eat me alive will escalate to the point where I run down the hall, screaming like a lunatic off her meds.

Rosa narrows her deep brown eyes and shakes her head. "Seriously you two! Get a freakin' room!"

The thought of witnessing the PDA is too tempting. I curse myself as I spin around. Why do I always let my curiosity get the best of me? A sigh of relief whooshes from my lips. "It's only Noah and Holly."

Rosa glares at me incredulously. "Only Noah and Holly. What do you mean by that?"

She's giving me a questioning look. Can she hear the sound of relief in voice? Does she know I'm hiding something from her? "Um. Uh..." Quick, come up with something. "Last year they made out like that every day."

We walk down the hall and Rosa tucks her blue-black side bang behind her ear. "That doesn't make it right." As we pass Noah and Holly she yells, "Nobody wants to witness your peep show!"

Noah flips her off, exposing the half-chipped black nail polish on his middle finger. He keeps his hand out, still lip-locked with Holly.

Rosa shrugs. "I guess some things never change."

****

Every year, the first day of school always seems to breeze by. That's probably because the teachers only have enough time each period to pass out books and assign seats. In a few of my classes my teachers went around the room and made the students talk about what we did over the summer.

My summer. The summer of love. Thoughts of Henry remain constant as I tell some lame ass fabrication of a story about spending time at my aunt's summer house on Lake Michigan. Sometimes I surprise myself because I can be such an amazing con and liar. The whole time I'm talking I'm fighting off the vivid pictures of him in my mind. His lips brushing against my ear. "I love you." A whisper that sent chills throughout my body. His teeth graze my earlobe and I'm unglued and mad—crazy with the fire I feel growing inside of me for him. "I want you," he'd murmured. "You. Only you." The flashbacks are so real that I believe they are actually happening and I hope I'm not flinching in front of everyone. I stifle a look around the classroom. Nobody is paying attention. Thank God.

Eighth period comes and I have a study hall. As I enter the cafeteria, I examine the students already seated in the wide rectangular room. No Henry. I'm relieved. The only period I have with him is lunch and that makes it easier to get through the day in one piece.

I plop down at a table in the back as Mr. Warner, the tenth grade biology teacher waltzes in. He stops in the front of the room, sets down a book and pulls down his cardigan sweater. "Sit wherever," he announces. "You can talk quietly amongst yourselves if you want."

Soft chatter echoes throughout the cafeteria and I opt out of being friendly. Aside from Rosa and this kid named Jace who used to live next door to me, who I hadn't talked to in years, and Henry, I don't have very many friends. Not because I'm antisocial. I just enjoy my alone time.

I approach Mr. Warner as he sits down and picks up the latest Stephen King novel and adjusts his gold wire spectacles. "Um, Mr. Warner?"

He doesn't look up. He's fully absorbed in whatever horrific world Mr. King has created for that particular novel. "Uh huh."

I twiddle my thumbs. "Could I go to the library?"

I've always spent my study halls in the library. I like using the computers. Mainly for pointless stuff like surfing Forever 21's sale page or popping in a burned cd and listening to music while I work on some homework assignment. Lately, I've been on a _Kings of Leon_ fix. _Closer_ and _True Love Way_ are on repeat at all times.

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.

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?

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?"

Her voice is pleasant and soft and the sound of it brings a half-smile to my lips. "Yeah, Mrs. Gephart, I'm not feeling well. I need to call my Mom so I can get permission to go home."

"One second, dear." Mrs. Gephart reaches under the counter and pulls out a black rolodex. She hums a catchy tune as she shuffles through the circular phonebook.

The interior of the office is bland and bright. The white walls, white countertops, and pale carpeting, makes me feel like I'm outdoors on a sunny day without my sunglasses. My eyes sting and I close them as a migraine materializes and throbs in my temples.

"Found it!" she squeals and the sound of her raised voice makes my head throb harder.

I don't open my eyes, but I hear her shuffle across the carpet and then she dials my Mom's number. The office grows quiet for a moment. "Ah, yes, Mrs. Davis? Hi. This is Mrs. Gephart at the school. I'm fine, thank you. Riley isn't feeling well. She'd like to go home, but we need permission from you first. Sure. One sec. Riley?"

My eyes snap open. "Yeah?"

Mrs. Gephart places her hand over the receiver. "Your mother would like to speak with you." I walk to the phone and Mrs. Gephart places it in my hand.

"Mom."

"Riley, what's wrong?"

I'm on the verge of tears and my voice cracks. "Mom, I'm sick I want to go home."

"Sweetheart, it's only the second day of school. How many classes do you have left today?"

"Three."

"Three. Can't you hang in there for the rest of the day?"

I break out into full on hysterics. "Mom, I just want to come home!" Mrs.Gephart hands me a tissue and I blow my nose.

"Okay, sweetie, it's okay. Put Mrs. Gephart back on the phone."

I hand the phone back to Mrs. Gephart. "Thanks, Mrs. Davis. You have a good day, too. Uh huh. Bye." She hangs up the phone and I sniffle. My tears have stopped momentarily, but I know it's only a matter of time before they pick back up again. Mrs. Gephart waddles over to me and pats me on the back. "There, there, dear. You just go home, get some rest, and feel better."

I blow my nose again. "I will." My throat sounds clogged, like I just sucked down a jar full of honey.

Mrs. Gephart smiles. "Good. I'll let the rest of your teachers know you went home early."

"Thank you." I turn to leave and I stop when Mrs. Gephart speaks. "Oh and honey, whoever he is, he's not worth your time."

I nod and walk out of the office.

At my locker I remove the books I need to take home and Mrs. Gephart's last comment is still ringing in my ears. Am I that obvious? Do I have the words 'boy problems' scribbled all over my face? If Mrs. Gephart has noticed, why hasn't Rosa? Or my mom? Or anyone else for that matter.

It's the middle of seventh period and the hall is abandoned. I'm glad. I don't want to see anyone when I'm looking so disheveled and I don't want to answer any questions if somebody asks me one.

My books thud as I continue stacking them on top of one another and suddenly, I feel like I'm not alone. I stand slowly and look over my shoulder and Henry is across from me at his locker, propped up against it. "Where are you going?" he asks.

I ignore him and pick my books up off the floor.

When I start walking he follows me down the hall. "Riley, where are you going?"

Even though I want to answer him, I don't. I hum quietly, trying to drown out the sound of his voice. "Riley, if this is about this morning, I'm sorry, but you—you know I can't..."

And then I snap. I'm wild, crazy and full of emotion and I don't care. I throw my books down and shove him. "It's not about this morning, it's about, you! You're so selfish! And mean! Do you even know how I feel? Do you even care? Do you know what it feels like to always come second? Do you know what it's like for me to watch you with her, her! Do you know what it's like when the one person you care about the most in the world doesn't acknowledge you? Or keeps you a secret. Do you know what it's like to feel like you're being ripped in half? Well, do you?"

Henry's eyes are wide. He raises his hands. "Calm down, Riley, please." He touches my cheek and the warmth from his touch spreads through my entire body. "You don't understand."

I corner him and dig my finger into his chest and push my words out, even though I'm fighting the half of me that's screaming touch me, infect me, love me. "I do understand!" I shout. "Don't tell me what to do. You're always telling me what to do and I'm tired of it. I'm tired of hiding! I'm tired of being your little play thing!"

I reach out to him, but I notice my trembling fingers and decide against touching him again. One more touch and it might be my undoing and so far, I'm holding my own.

His hand inches toward mine. His fingers are needy. "Riley, you know how I feel. You are not and never will be my play thing. You have my heart."

I pull away from him, backing up. "No I don't. I can't tell if you really feel that way or you're just feeding me load of crap so that I'll do whatever you want. And I'm sorry Henry, but I can't do or be who you want anymore."

"What are you saying?" There's shock and panic in his voice.

"Riley, wait. Come back, please," he begs. "Let's talk about it. I'll end it with Callie I promise."

The tears sting my cheeks. He's still behind me, following me. I swallow hard. "Leave me alone, Henry." I do my best to put up a cold front.

"Riley, you can't do this to me. You're killing me. I've never felt this way about anyone else."

He's lying. Messing with my head. Fucking with my emotions.

I run out the back exit doors, glancing over my shoulder as Henry stops at the steps. "Riley, please! You know you don't want to do this!"

He's right; I don't want to do this. I feel like I'm losing a part of myself as I run away from him. More than that, I feel like my heart has just exploded in my chest.

I'm proud of myself for staying so strong in front of him. I'm proud for standing my ground instead of keeping quiet. But when I finally make into the safe haven of my car, I let it all out.

I hunch over, hugging my stomach and let out long agonizing sobs. And the whole time I cry I hear him in the back of my mind, begging—pleading for me to come back.

Get out of my head!

Even my thoughts involving him are accompanied by pain. A dull, incessant, throbbing pain. As I try to catch my breath and control myself the pain intensifies, circling around my gut, and I'm not sure when or if it will ever go away.
Chapter 12

" _Love that we cannot have is the one that lasts the longest, hurts the deepest and feels the strongest..."~ Author Unknown ~_

I'm broken. Hopefully I won't be this way forever, but for now every part of me is broken. I'm also sick and obsessed, clawing at my own body trying to recreate the way it feels to have his hands on me. It's not the same.

When I arrived home I'd consumed an entire quart of Ben & Jerry's Strawberry Cheesequake ice cream. I was hoping that maybe the frosty delight would dull the pain just a little bit. It doesn't.

Henry calls. Once. Twice. Three times, and every time I hit the ignore button.

Then he texts me.

Plz talk 2 me.

R u home?

Can I come ovr?

I don't answer his texts either.

Sleep. That's all I really want to do. Sleep away my sorrows. Dream of blissful experiences. Dream of hope and laughter. Infectious laughter. Maybe today was a dream. Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and everything that happened will be a nightmare. Somehow I doubt it.

****

I've convinced myself that I'm delusional because half-way through my slumber I hear, feel, and smell Henry. His clothes smell like a combination of tide detergent and his cologne. He breathes soft and raspy into my ear and I feel the warmth of his body next to mine. I sigh. This seems too familiar. Too real.

Rolling over, my hand smacks into something hard and a cough echoes throughout my room. My eyes fly open and I scramble from my bed and crouch down in the corner of my room. Henry rises and walks around the bed closer to me.

"Get out!" My voice is cold and brash and I'm pissed that he thinks my bed is a welcome mat. _Thank you for stopping by! Come back soon!_ Perhaps that's my own fault because I made it that way, but still. Every time he came over in the past I'd invited him. I didn't invite him over today.

"Chill Ry," he says. "It's me. It's Henry."

"I know it's you. I want you to leave."

"You don't mean that."

"I do. Leave. Now." I stand. "How did you get in here?" I follow his gaze to the open window. Wind blows in and circulates through my curtains. I mentally huff a string of curse words for not remembering to lock it.

Henry rocks back and forth on his feet and nervously shoves his hands into his pockets. This is the first time I've ever seen him this way. Uncertain. Lost. He's usually so sure of himself. He locks eyes with me. A solemn expression takes over his face. "Can we talk?"

His gaze is magnetic. He's trying to pull me in, like a black widow on a web, lurking, waiting for her prey to get caught.

I'm fighting it—the power he has over me. The spell he's cast. Because every part of me wants to be enveloped in his arms. I want his fingers in my hair. I want him kissing me. As long as I stay where I am. As long as I don't look at him or move, I'll be fine. He won't over-power me. His charm won't manipulate my judgment.

He doesn't deserve my time. I've sacrificed plenty of precious minutes for him. I threw away a whole summer for him. But I'm tired. I'm in pieces, and I'm furious. The sooner I let him speak, the sooner he'll leave and I get back to sleeping my life away. "You've got five minutes."

Relief washes over his features and he sits down on the edge of my bed. "Will you come sit by me?" His lips curl into a half-smile. A seductive, come-hither smile.

I pick up a foot lurching forward and stop myself. No. I can't. I have to be strong. Instead, I tap my bare foot against the wooden floor and twitch my hips. "No."

Soft laughter escapes his throat. "So stubborn."

So what if I was being stubborn or difficult or whatever, it's my own prerogative. My eyes roll to my right and I check the time on my alarm clock. "Your five minutes are ticking by. Now you have four. I'd hurry if I were you."

"I don't understand why you're acting like this?"

"Were you listening to anything I said earlier?"

"Yes. But you knew what you were getting into with this from the very beginning and you were okay with it. Now all of a sudden you've had this miraculous epiphany and you're willing to throw everything we have away because you're jealous."

My mouth drops open and I gasp. "Are you kidding me? Is this conversation some kind of joke?"

A serious expression crosses over his face. He's not joking. "Why don't you tell me what you want from me, Riley?"

"I want you to stop what you're doing?"

"And what exactly am I doing?"

"I want this whole you, me, and _her_ threesome to stop." What I really want to tell him or what I really want him to say is what he said to me in the hall. It's over between me and Callie. She's yesterday's news. I love you. I want you. I choose you. You are my one and only.

All I get out of him is, "Uh huh."

"Do you say the same things to both of us? Is that it? Do you enjoy the thrill of a double life? One for keeps. One on the sly sort of thing?"

He glares at me incredulously. "When I say it to you, I mean it."

"And her?"

"I don't."

"Then why are you with her?"

"It's complicated."

He's being vague and the uncertainty tone in his voice annoys me.

I pace across the length of my bedroom. "This conversation is over, Henry. Get out." My voice is hard and brutal.

He doesn't move.

"I said get out!"

He glances at his hand and examines his fingers. "I think I'll stay right here."

I'm unsure of what to do. All I know is that I don't want to stay in here with him.

"My mom will be home soon," I say. "She'll be pretty pissed if she sees you here." The threat of my mom coming home doesn't work.

"I'll take my chances."

Finally, I'm so frustrated I try rationalizing with him. "Henry, you knew that this was going to end sooner or later." I wish he would let me get over him. I wish he would forget about me. I wish that he would get out of here and find somebody else to play with. "I think its best that it's happening now, at the beginning of the year."

If this happened any later, I don't know where I'd end up. Maybe in a psych ward.

And how would you like your meds today, Riley? Liquid or pill form?

"But, I love you," he tells me. His voice is soft and there's angst in it.

"You think you love me."

"No. I love you."

Hearing those words leave his lips breaks me apart all over again. I keep telling myself to ignore them—the words. But I can't. I'm crippled on the borderline of love, lust, and grief. "Just shut up. Quit screwing with my head. I'm a person, not a game. And you keep screwing with me and screwing with me. I swear you get some sick pleasure out of this."

He's wearing a devilish grin and I already know what he's thinking. "Don't even think about it. You know that's not what I meant."

"But it's all I think about. You're all I think about. It's like you're the cocaine and I'm the junkie. I want more of you. I need more of you. If I can't have you it drives me crazy."

Lies. Lies. And more Lies.

"If you want more of that, then go get it from Callie."

He stands and inches closer. "You don't believe me, do you?"

I sigh. "I used to. Now I'm not sure what to believe anymore."

"Callie doesn't mean anything to me. It's you—you're the one I'm addicted to. Callie is just arm candy. Easily replaceable."

"If you're so addicted to me and Callie is so easily replaceable, why haven't you replaced her yet? And why are you always with her and not me?"

A vivid picture of an alcoholic pops into my head. She's passed out in her front yard clutching an empty bottle of vodka. Addicts are with what they're addicted to at all times. And when they are without the fits begin. Shaking. Hysteria. Henry looks fine to me.

"Maybe you said it best, I'm selfish." He takes another step. "Also, I have a lot of complications going on in my life right now. I wish you could understand that."

He's so close to me I can practically taste his cool, minty breath. If I move an inch my lips will brush against his. "Henry, stop." His arms are over my head and he's peering down into my eyes.

My hands are trembling and I clasp them together. I want him so bad that my nerve endings are sparking. I'm a live wire.

In a last ditch effort to save myself from seduction I duck down and crawl under his left arm. Henry spins around and laughs as I back into my door. "You're quick Ry."

I'm glad I'm so quick. Staring a second longer into his eyes and I would have wound up on my bed—with him.

I open the door and he grabs his shirt off the floor and tosses it over his shoulder. I usher him through the door and he faces me from the hall. His expression is vacant. "Is this really over? If it is I'm not sure if I can handle it."

"Oh it's really over." I start closing the door and Henry wedges his hand in between the frame. "Henry just go."

"What can I do to change your mind?"

"Nothing." The word vibrates in my throat as the tears swell in my eyes. The image of him touching Callie's face resurfaces and it's painful. Replaying that moment in my mind is like pouring nail polish remover into an infected cut. Heat rises to my skin. My blood simmers and I feel like my veins have been tapped while my blood flows freely into some hungry vampire's mouth. "Unless you have some miraculous epiphany and decide to dump, Callie." I hope he senses the sarcasm as I mock his previous comment.

"I see," he says.

"Goodbye, Henry."

Then I slam the door in his face.
Chapter 12

" _At some time in our lives a devil dwells within us, causes heartbreaks, confusion and troubles, then dies."~ Theodore Roosevelt ~_

I'm an addict, a Henry Garner addict. Except instead of a tourniquet wrapped around my forearm, the thin tight piece of latex is wrapped around my heart. Constricting. Squeezing. It's squeezing the love out of me. Squeezing the life out of me.

Rosa lies on my floor flipping through a magazine. "So there's a party, tonight. You wanna go?"

"Uh, I dunno, you?"

I'm lying on my bed and I roll over. The faint smell of Henry's cologne lingers on my pillow. I inhale and I'm bathing in his scent. I miss him. It's been days since I've spoken to him and I miss him so bad that I ache.

I can't sleep. Even though I'm the one that kicked him out and told him to leave me alone, I leave my window open, hoping that he might sneak through it. He hasn't.

At night I swear the empty side of my bed is warm. I know I'm dreaming up his presence. I know he's at home in his own bed, but I feel better if I pretend. I even go as far as imagining his arms around me. His soft breathing against my ear

.

He's been calling—and texting. I haven't been answering. My mind has been in a blunder over him. Every time my phone rings or buzzes I have to talk myself out of responding.

"You know I'm always down to party," Rosa announces.

"Where is this party at?" I already know the answer to my question. Henry sent me a text earlier. He's hosting the party.

"Henry Garner's."

"I don't know," I tell her.

What I don't tell her is seeing him and her together in an intimate setting will be more than I can handle. Since our argument I fight the better half of myself every day in school. I see them and want to shout... Let out a tortured cry. Rip at Callie's hair. I want to tell her what I've been doing with her boyfriend of four years.

At the same time, I think about ripping my own hair. I tell myself that the self-inflicted pain will numb the pain in my heart. Then after thinking about it for a minute, I know that's not true. Nothing can numb the pain in my heart. Not even an anesthetic.

"I think it will be fun," Rosa adds.

I think it will be a disaster. An earthquake. Rumbling. Shattered buildings. Scattered people.

She closes the magazine and puffs out her bottom lip. "Come on, please."

"Argh." I inhale deep, then exhale. "Okay. But just for a little bit."

She beams. "We won't wear out our welcome."

Well _she_ won't. I wore out my welcome months ago.

****

As we walk up the driveway illuminated by odd shaped landscape lights, I feel like I'm walking to the chopping block. I'm Anne Boleyn. My death is imminent and all the people on the porch turn toward us—staring.

Henry sits on the swing, his arm draped over Callie's shoulders. His eyes flash over to me. We exchange a tortured glance. Then I blanch and turn away. Pain sears through me and clutches my heart, like death's icy grasp. I choke on the breath caught in my throat and try to control my breathing as Callie makes a rude noise.

Rosa and I hop up the three steps leading to Henry's front porch. "Ugh." Rosa rolls her eyes and glares at Callie. "Ignore her."

"I'm trying," I say, even though every part of me wants to stab her in the face. I exhale. I'm delicate China. I'm being thrown into a wall, breaking apart. "I don't think coming here was such a good idea."

Rosa strolls ahead and opens the front door. She holds it open for me and I walk inside. She follows and closes the door behind her. We walk down the narrow hall leading to the kitchen. "Sure it was," Rosa tells me. "You just need a beverage."

"I'm glad you know what I need." My hope is that she hears the sarcasm in my voice.

"Are you getting sassy with me?" she asks when we're in the middle of the newly remodeled kitchen.

I stare off and the dark cherry stained cabinets and black countertops blur in my vision. "No." I'm exhausted. I don't feel like getting into with her right now.

After Rosa pours herself a drink and one for me, she starts chatting up some Emo guy named Chad from her history class. I take that as my cue to exit.

Climbing the stairs, I decide to head to a familiar spot. Henry's bedroom. I can't be around people right now. I feel like an open wound. An open cesspool oozing from flesh and there aren't any doctor's around to stitch me up.

I'm standing in his doorway and I'm hit with a swarm of emotion. My bottom lip quivers and I bite it and I suck back my on-coming tears. The tidy, bedroom with the grey walls and hardwood floors brings back a vivid stain of flashbacks. The first time he kissed me, I was sitting on the edge of the bed.

My eyes wander over to the french doors that lead to a balcony. We watched the stars together and he told me he loved me. Reminiscing about our good times is making me a mess. I'm spoiled milk knocked off the counter—spreading—a huge puddle on the floor. Somebody help me. Somebody please clean me up.

Inside the room, I set my cup down on his nightstand and center on the photo of him and Callie. A rush of anger circulates through me. What's so special about her? If he loves me like he says he does, why is her face the last thing he wants to see before he lets sleep take over him? I'm trembling. So overwhelmed with hurt and anger that I do the only thing I can think of to eliminate the way I'm feeling. I flip the picture over, and then flop down on his bed.

His smell lingers on the pillow case and creeps up my nostrils. Tide and True Religion. I want to bathe in it, wash my body with it so I'll never forget it. The enticing scent blankets my entire body and I want to stay wrapped up in it forever.

Hysteria comes out through screams and I grab the pillow to my right and smother my face with it, screaming louder. Even though I'm fully clothed, I feel naked. Lying bare on a bed waiting for my lover to come to me. This is the real me.

When I go to set the pillow down a rectangular object catches my eye. The crumpled up object lies face down the mattress and I pick it up, holding it up in front of my face.

"Oh," I gasp and throw my hand over my mouth.

The crumpled up object is a photo of me and Henry. I close my eyes and tears spill onto my cheeks.

I'm smiling, beaming, so elated and happy that my face looks flawless. The sunlight hits my cheeks and I look like I'm glowing. Henry is kissing my forehead. His lips curled up into a half-smirk. For a moment I forget my depression. I forget about everything. I'm lost in that moment.

Then a thought hits me and I frown. I'm still a secret. I might be the last thing he thinks about before going to bed at night, but I'm still hidden—banished to an eternity of darkness underneath his pillow. I'm not special enough to earn a place on his nightstand and it kills me.

I've been told that it takes a long time for a broken heart to mend, but as I lie there in my loves bed, I wonder just how long it will take me. When I'm away from Henry he haunts me. With his voice. Surreal hallucinations. No matter where I am or what I'm doing, he's there. A constant reminder.

How long will my obsession last? How long will I feel so consumed by my love for him that I can't think of anything else? I've done the best I can to stay away from him. I've done the best I can to not answer his messages or calls. But long will it be before I crack? I'm certain it won't be long at all.

At night, I tremble alone in my bed. I've bitten my fingernails down to the stubs. I've had dreams about him every night since we've been apart and even though it's only been days it feels like we've been separated for years.

There are times where I tell myself I hate him and then I think of something Mom told me when she and Dad split up. "Love and hate are such passionate emotions. They are so powerful that they blur the lines between one another. Even though you tell yourself you hate a person if you've ever loved them at all, that's a lie." She'd stared off blankly when she told me the next part. "I stand by this when I say it, together or not, it is impossible to hate someone you love."

Mom is a wise woman. Love drives people to despair and distorts the lines between fantasy and reality. Love can knock the wind out of your lungs. The emotion can lock you down and make you feel imprisoned—shackled to a wall. There is no escape. Once love takes hold, it will always be inside of you—always apart of you.

Love is a sickness. It is a disease. One minute you feel like you're flying. You're a bird soaring through miles of endless blues sky. Nothing can pull you down. Nothing can put out the sizzle burning inside of you. Yet at the same time, love can make you nauseous, and grief stricken. The inside of your stomach churns. You're dry heaving. So insane and delusional that love might leave that you start rocking back and forth like a maniac in a mental institution.

I'm almost there.

Is it worth it? The ups and down of the emotional rollercoaster called love? Is it worth a person losing their mind, having a broken heart, and constantly questioning their judgments or feelings?

I glance at the picture of Henry and me one more time before setting it face down on the mattress and covering it up with the pillow and I know the answer to the question.

Absolutely.

I love Henry and I don't care anymore. I don't care if I seem stupid for wanting to be with him under the circumstances we're in. I don't care if people think I'm a moron. My love for him is the Marianas Trench, vast, deep and wide—never ending.

I need to tell him. I need to tell him that nothing or no one can put out the fire for him burning inside of me. Not Callie. Not anybody. It will blaze bright and vibrant forever and ever. Until the day I meet my maker. Until the day I die.

As I sit up, on the edge of the bed pushing myself to my feet a sudden urge of relief sweeps over me and I know that I'm making the right decision. And I squash the tiniest bit of doubt that was left in my mind.

But as soon as I stand. I hear them. Footsteps.

Two pairs of footsteps. I freeze. There are two people heading toward the bedroom. Muffled voices throb in my ears. They are outside the door. My eyes center on the brass door knob as it starts to turn. Almost like the circular handle is an orb suspended in front of me, glowing in the dark.

"Henry," Callie snaps.

"What?" Henry bites back. He's angry. It appears I'm about to be in the middle of a heated argument and I'm convinced if Callie sees me, I'll only make things worse for him.

"Oh no," I gasp and glance around the room. I need to hide.

The knob turns more and glows. Turns and glows.

I panic and spin around in a blur. Where can I go? Where can I hide? I stare at the closet. I dash over and fling the door open. No!

The small cubby hole is way too small and way too messy. I scramble over to the french doors that lead to the balcony. I'm fumbling with the lock. My hands are sweating and they keep slipping at I try to turn it.

My stomach is in my throat. Oh God. The knob on the door turns all the way and the door creaks open slightly. I look at the skirting on Henry's queen sized bed. Black satin fills my gaze and right before Henry steps through the door, I dive underneath the bed.
Chapter 13

" _A desire arises in the mind. It is satisfied immediately another comes. In the interval which separates two desires a perfect calm reigns in the mind. It is at this moment freed from all thought, love or hate. Complete peace equally reigns between two mental waves."~ Swami Sivanada ~_

My heart hammers, pounding against my ribcage. The thumping is so loud I swear Henry will be able to hear it. My breaths leave my lungs short and raspy. I swallow hard and cover my mouth. The springs on the mattress squeak as someone sits down and the mattress dips down over my head.

Henry lets out a frustrated sigh and my limbs tingle. I almost pray that he'll start talking to himself just so I can listen to his melodic voice.

His fingers brush against something and I listen as the sound of crinkling paper echoes through the quiet room. "I miss you." His voice is soft—hushed and I know he's looking at our picture.

Warmth fills me up and my eyes water. "I miss you, too," I say silently.

Then another pair of footsteps. "I missed you too, gorgeous," she coos.

Callie. Ugh. The sound of her voice makes me cringe, but at the same time a smile curls on my lips and excitement flows through me. He wasn't talking about her. He was talking about me.

Callie's lips smack against his cheek and I wince. _Oh man. Please don't do this right now._

"Callie," Henry groans. "I just want to be alone right now. Can you like go downstairs or something?"

More weight shifts on the bed and I see that someone is crawling across it. I blanch and turn away. "Oh you know, you want to," Callie purrs. "You know I'm irresistible."

I sneak a peek and I've now determined who is who. Callie is on my left. Henry on the right.

Henry moves and I assume he's pushing her away. "I'm not in the mood, Callie. Leave me alone." His voice is more adamant.

Callie's weight on the bed shifts. "Henry," she whispers. Her lips make a smacking noise again.

Henry stands and my head turns. I catch a glimpse of the bottom of his feet from the tiny sliver of light shining from the bed skirting. "I said, no damn it!" he snaps.

Callie's weight shifts again. "What is with you?" she retorts. "You've been acting weird all summer! You rarely touch or kiss me anymore and you always seem distracted! Am I not good enough for you anymore? Because if that's the case, I can name at least ten guys that would kill to have me!"

I feel the bile rising up in my throat and I gag. It's hard for me to imagine the Henry I know wanting to be with someone who is so self-absorbed.

He lets out a strained sigh. "You know I'm going through a lot right now. It would be nice if you'd be more sympathetic."

Callie stands and her hot pink stiletto's clink against the floor. "Does this have to do with your Mom?" Callie's tone is somber.

Henry doesn't answer and I figure that Callie is right.

But then my mouth hangs open and I scrunch my eyebrows together. What's going on with his mother? He rarely mentions his parents to me and I'd never been to his house when they were home.

"How is she doing?" Callie asks. "You know? With the treatments?"

"As well as expected I guess." He speaks with a detached tone, but there's more emotion in his voice than anything I've ever heard out of him. He's in pain, lost and conflicted.

Part of me wants to comfort him. Part of me wants to soothe him with loving words and tell him that everything will be okay. I want to tell him that no matter what he's going through. I'll be there. I'll help him through it. We'll get through it together.

But I'm consumed with an uneasy feeling because he didn't tell me. He never told me there was something wrong with his mother. He told her, but not me. And it hurts. I'm hurt because he knows he can tell me anything and he knows that I'd drop whatever I was doing and come to his aid because that's how much he meant to me. Why didn't he tell me?

"She asks about you," he tells Callie. "She wants to know if you're going to visit her soon."

Callie sighs. "Of course." She's silent for a second. "It's just hard for me to see to her like that. You know. Hooked up to all those machines and everything."

"You?" There's a bit of hostility in his voice. "She's my Mom and she's dying of cancer. And you want to talk about how hard it is for you?"

I gasp. Tears brim in my eyes then I quickly throw my hand over my mouth. I hurt for him. And just like the way I ache for his touch, I ache for him because of the way he must be feeling.

"What was that?" Callie snaps.

"Probably, nothing."

"I heard something."

"Callie!" he shouts. "I'm trying to talk to you about my Mom and all you can think about are the noises you think you hear!"

"Look, Henry," she says, kind of thoughtfully, but I detect a hint of snarkiness in her tone. "I feel bad, but you know how I feel about hospitals and people dying. It's just something I'd rather not talk about or see."

I'm so furious that I'm grinding my teeth. Rage pounds through me like a jackhammer to the pavement. If Callie doesn't leave this bedroom soon, I'm going to crawl out from under this bed and punch her in the face.

How can you love someone and see them hurting like that and not feel like every part of you is splitting in half? I'm in agony and I didn't even know. I feel like someone has just given me the bad news about one of my own family members. I want to bury myself in a hole of depression grief and misery for him because when you love someone if they hurt, you hurt.

"Just leave me alone, okay Callie?"

The sound of her heels echo against the floor. "Should I tell everyone to leave?"

"No," he says softly. "But you should."

"What?"

"Leave."

"But, Henry I—I"

"Just leave!" he screams. His voice is high and shrill and I'm certain the whole bedroom is shaking.

Callie slams the door and I listen as the sound of her footsteps fade away. Me, I'm torn. I don't know if I should make my presence known or remain hidden. Part of me is afraid. Clearly he's okay with Callie being privy to the information about his mother, but he hasn't told me. So what if he's not ready to tell me?

Then the sounds of his sobs cut into my thoughts. The bed shakes from him trembling and my vision blurs from the wetness forming in my eyes. I can't even imagine what he's going through. I thought it was the end of the world when my parents separated and that is nothing compared to watching one of them die.

I wipe my eyes with the palms of my hands. I'm coming out. I'm going to hold him. I'm going to be that crutch he needs right now. I'm going to comfort him. I'll let him cry until there isn't a tear left in his entire body.

His cries cut out and I hear him dialing a phone number. The ringer on my phone squeals out and Henry hops up from the bed. His voice is thick, like it's clogged with a coating of molasses. "Riley. Are you in here?"

I reach out from under the bed and wrap my hand around his ankle. He jumps, startled and I clear my throat. "Yes. I am."
Chapter 14

" _It is the passion that is in a kiss that gives to it its sweetness; it is the affection in a kiss that sanctifies it."~ Christian Nevell Bovee ~_

Henry grabs me by the wrists and pulls me out from underneath the bed. "Were you there the whole...?"

I finish his sentence. "The whole time, yes."

He looks away from me. "So you heard everything then?"

"Yes."

I can tell he's a jigsaw puzzle. A million pieces scattered sporadically. Looking away only so he can put himself back together.

"Everything?" he repeats, whispering.

"Yes, everything," I assure him.

I'm observing him. Watching his profile as the muscles in his jaw flex. I take his face in my hands and he's still not looking at me. For a second I close my eyes. I'm tearing up and what I really to do right now is be strong for him. "Henry, look at me," I demand.

He doesn't meet my gaze.

"Henry! Look at me!"

He lifts his eyes slowly. The pale blue irises are swimming with tears. "Why didn't you tell me?" I place my forehead against his and sigh. "You know I would have been there for you."

His voice cracks. "You had your own problems going on with your parents and everything."

"That doesn't matter. You know I love you. You know I would have been there for you in a second. What's happening with my family is minor compared to this." I hesitate for a moment and breathe. "What stage of cancer does she have and what kind?"

"Pancreatic. Stage four."

I remember learning that pancreatic cancer is one of the worst kinds of cancer to have. "When did you find out?"

He lifts his head, a serene look on his face. "Three years ago. We were optimistic at first and so were the doctors. They thought they'd caught it early enough. After her first round of chemo, she was doing so well. She went into remission. Then about eighteen months ago, it came back and it's been a downward spiral ever since. She just keeps getting worse. In and out of the hospital. I'm at the point where I don't know what to do anymore. My dad tells me that I shouldn't stop living. That my mom wouldn't want me to be living next to her bed at all times." A painful smile forms on his lips. "If she were here she'd tell me that she's fine. Not to worry about her. To try and live."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Henry," I tell him. "I'm so sorry I acted the way I did." There was a point during our argument where he was trying to tell me something. I could see in his eyes that he was hiding something, but my own thoughts and concerns were the only thing I could think about. I'm the selfish one. I'm the one who is to blame for that fight. "Where does Callie fit into this?"

Just mentioning her name makes me cringe. Callie, to me is almost inhuman, with a heart made of ice.

A soft smile forms on his lips. "My Mom loves Callie. She used to tell me that Callie was like the daughter she never had." He laughs, a restrained laugh. "I know that's no excuse for what I'm doing with both of you, but my Mom is dying and I just couldn't end it with Callie knowing how my Mom feels about her."

I exhale. "I'm sorry, but I'm having a hard time believing that."

He scrunches his eyebrows together. "What?"

"I'm having a hard time believing your Mom could love someone like her so much."

Henry shakes his head. "Callie wasn't always how she is now. She used to be sweet. She used to be thoughtful. Somehow she's morphed into someone different. Someone I don't know anymore. Four years is a long time to be with someone and I think that most couples don't anticipate the other one changing, but people do change. For a while when my Mom got sick again, I thought the old Callie I fell in love with would come back. I thought she'd be there for me, because that's what you do when you love someone. I stayed because I knew how much it meant to my mother, and to see the look on my mom's face when Callie would walk into the room, well, it was like a blinding light shining on the darkest of days. It made her so happy and I just didn't have the heart to take it away from her."

Tears pour from my eyes and I feel like such a jerk. "I'm so sorry." That's all I can really say.

He places his fingers under my chin and tips it up. "That day I saw you. It changed my whole life. You changed my whole life. _You_ made me feel alive again. For the first time in years. I love you. I mean it."

A mixture of sadness and joy fills me up. All I can do is sob. I reach up and run my fingers through his hair. "I love you too. So much."

He cranes his neck down and brushes his lips against mine. A soft, loving kiss that exalts all of my senses. Then the kiss intensifies and we fall back on his bed, wrapped in each other's arms, warped by a haze of love and passion.

His lips are against my ear. "I want you. All of you," he breathes.

That's all I've ever wanted to hear from him.All I ever wanted is for him to choose me. Pick me. Love me. And he has. "You have me," I tell him. "You always will."

Another deep kiss and I feel like the room is spinning, whirling around me. I'm on the tilt-a-whirl at the hometown fair. An elated feeling tickles my stomach. The wind whips through my hair and I'm laughing. I'm happy, giddy and full of glee.

Henry's teeth scrape against my bottom lip and I'm stuck in a diluted limbo that blurs the lines between fantasy and reality.

I'm covered by a blanket of his arms, so warm and so hot that his body on mine sends an electrified wave of heat trickling down my spine. I'm already overheating and I'm craving another temperature spike. I want him to bring me to a rumbling boil.

A soft creak from the door rings out in between our breathless kisses.

"Is this the—?"

Henry sits up quickly and I prop myself up on my elbows.

Rosa stands in the doorway with her mouth hanging open. "What the hell is this?"

Henry lies back on the bed, still trying to steady his breathing. He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.

I glance between him and Rosa. She folds her arms across her chest and twitches her hip. I stand slowly. "Rosa, I can explain."

Rosa backs away from the door. "How long has this been going on?" Her eyes shift from me to Henry then back to me again.

I can't face her. So I just keep my eyes on the floor. I know she knows I've been keeping this from her. She knows me that well.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me!" There's a hint of anger in her voice mixed with pain.

Lifting my head I catch a glimpse at the look on her face. She's sneering. Eyes narrowed. Shaking her head. It actually surprises me that it took her this long to figure out what was going on between Henry and I. "Seriously, Rosa." I give her a desperate look. "Let me explain."

She backs away, shaking her head and bolts down the hall. I'm up in a flash, chasing her. I catch her, yanking her by the arm right before she starts down the steps. She moves away from the stairs and rests against the wall. Rosa scowls, keeping her head turned in the opposite direction. "Ro, would you look at me?"

She ignores me.

"Ro! You can at least let me explain!"

She drops her head down and shakes at the floor. "I tell you everything," she says, sounding more hurt that anything. "Everything."

I place my hand on her shoulder. "I couldn't tell anyone."

Her head snaps up. "Why? Because of Callie? Did you think I would tell her?" she asks accusingly.

"No," I say. "Of course not."

Rosa peers down the hall at the cracked open door to Henry's bedroom. She tilts her head toward the door. "Because of him?"

I nod. "Please don't be mad."

The hard look on her face softens and she sighs. Then she playfully slaps my shoulder. "You little slut! I can't believe you didn't tell me! Here I am, worrying about you and you're off with the next Abercrombie model getting your freak on."

"I'm not a slut!" I exclaim. "I love him."

In the beginning of my time with Henry, I'd thought the same thing. I kept thinking how I could be such a slut. So careless with my precious innocence, but I came to the realization that when feelings as strong as the feelings I had for Henry were involved our acts weren't wrong. In the past, I'd been a thinker. I let my brain do the talking. _That's not smart, Riley. Or you don't want to get in trouble._ One thing I learned from loving Henry is that he taught me to follow my heart.

Rosa cocks her head to the side. "So, I'm assuming Callie doesn't know about you two."

"No," I say. "She doesn't."

"You better hope she doesn't find out."

I roll my eyes. "Callie Banfield doesn't scare me."

Rosa harrumphs, "Well she should."

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

"Dude, don't you remember what happened when she found out about Cari Struthers?"

"Cari who?"

"You know." She lowers her voice being cautious. "That junior girl who had it bad for Henry when we were sophomores."

"Oh, yeah. The one who transferred."

"And I'm sure you know why she transferred."

I shake my head. "Ro, I love Henry and he loves me. There's nothing Callie can do to scare me away. There's nothing she can do that's going to change the way I feel."

"Okay," says Rosa. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

A second later, Callie stalks toward us and I clam up. Shit. Her face screams pure hatred. She's huffing, like her entire body is full of hot air and that she'll blow up if she can't release some.

She narrows her eyes at Rosa. "Hi."

Then her head turns toward me slowly, like she's possessed. "It." Her voice is trembling, fueled by rage. A second later she pulls her hand back and slaps me across the face.
Chapter 14

" _In her first passion, a woman loves her lover, in all the others all she loves is love."~ Lord Byron ~_

It takes me a minute to react to the slap as an irritating tingle spreads across my cheek. Instinctively I touch my face and my mouth drops open.

"Stay away from my boyfriend," Callie growls.

Rosa scowls at her and opens her mouth, but I don't give her anytime to make a comment. In a blaze of aggression, I lunge for Callie and slam her into the ground. The loud thud from our bodies hitting the floor rings out and shakes the pictures hanging on the walls.

She gasps and tries pushing me away as I grab for her hair. There's only a small part of me that's attacking her for the slap. The rest is for the years of nasty comments, torture and the last bit is for Henry.

The sounds of his sobs pound through my brain enraging me further. "He doesn't love you!" I shout. And I surprise myself by how crazy I sound.

Henry's bedroom door flies open and Rosa is tugging on my arm. "Riley, come on! Stop!"

I've almost got Callie's arms under control when Henry yells out, "Riley, what are you doing?"

He's distracted me and I look over my shoulder, taking in the panicked look on his face. The second my eyes meet his, Callie yanks on my hair and rolls on top of me. She throws a punch and I dodge it.

Callie throws a second punch and I try to dodge it, but her fist slams into my shoulder. Henry has his hands around her waist, lifting her off of me and Rosa takes me by the arm and helps me to my feet. I lunge for her again and Rosa yanks me back. "Riley, stop!" she scolds me.

I scream. So loud and boisterous that it's like the chanting of several thousand Romans cheering for their favorite gladiator. Henry gives me a stern look. "Ry, you need to chill."

I'm outraged. "Are you defending her? She slapped me first!"

"I'm not defending anyone," he snaps. "I'm saying you need to calm down." He shakes his head and looks at Rosa. "Can you take her outside?"

"Sure," says Rosa.

"I'm not going anywhere!" I bark.

"Yes you are." Rosa places a death grip around my waist and I claw at her hands. "No way!" she yells. "I have three older brothers and guess who they practiced their wrestling moves with?"

"Let me go!"

"Nope."

As Rosa drags me down the hall I'm seeing red. I forget about how much I love Henry. I forget about his unfortunate situation with his Mom. The only thing that I can think about is how he might be taking her side over mine.

I don't care how long they've been together. I don't care how she used to be because for as long as I've known Callie Banfield, she's been an awful person. And I've known her for thirteen years.

Even though the fight between her and I seems catty, all of my rage boils down to how I'm a good person and she's evil and she always seems to win. Henry is mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. And she doesn't deserve him.

I'm breathing heavy. I've had it. Sick mother or not, he needs to pick one of us.

Every time I tell myself I've had enough, he finds a way to suck me back in. He's a black hole and I'm an asteroid. Once the asteroid comes in contact with the black hole's gravitational pull, there's no going back. I'll more likely die or lose my mind than escape this relationship in one piece.

Rosa nears the edge of the hall and I try to shake her off of me. "No way," she tells me. "You're going to calm down."

I scowl at Henry and shout, "You need to make a decision!"

Me or her. Me or her. Me or her.

He nods with an emotionless expression. He knows I'm right. He knows that he's let this little threesome has gone on long enough.

And as Rosa nears the top of the steps, silently I pray that he makes the right one.

Me.
Chapter 15

" _Love is like a mountain, hard to climb, but once you get to the top the view is beautiful." ~ Daniel Monroe Tuttle ~_

Outside, I pace in front of Henry's house. I focus on the porch swing, with its iron chains and hooks and oak planks as the wind blows, tossing it back and forth. I think of how many times I sat on that swing with Henry and how if Henry picks her instead of me, it might be the last time I ever look at it.

Rosa watches me intensely. A look of worry takes over her child-like facial features. "You're scaring me, Ry."

I'm scaring myself.

Loud chatter and drunken laughter interrupts my thinking process. I stop mid-pace as several kids from my grade stroll across the perfectly manicured lawn to their cars. Two husky boys, linemen from the football team straggle behind the rest of the group and I'm careful not to make any sudden movements. They're talking to one another and I'm trying to eavesdrop.

"Did you hear all that noise?" I don't remember this boy's name, but he has a bulging belly and a bald head.

The second guy is slightly smaller in girth and in height and he has thick orange hair that is sticking up—spiked. "Man, Henry is probably giving it to her real good."

Uncle Fester brushes passed me and raise an eyebrow. "Wouldn't you?" he asks orange hair. "If I had a girlfriend that looked like Callie Banfield I know I would be."

"I know," orange hair replies. "Have you ever seen how short she wears her cheerleading skirt? Ouch. Staring at that ass gives me a toothache."

I turn toward Rosa, staring out as her pale face becomes a blur of white. My lips quiver. "He picked her," I say mechanically. Tears stream down my cheeks, drip off my chin, and my knees buckle. Rosa is next to me in a flash and she catches me before I fall. I bury my head in the crook of her neck. "I don't understand." The words come out so hushed I can barely hear myself say them.

Rosa embraces me tighter, smooths back my hair, and whispers comforting words into my ears. "I know this is probably going to be hard for you to hear right now, but it's his loss and if he'd rather be with someone like Callie over you, then he doesn't deserve you."

I know she's right. I'm thankful that I have Rosa and I regret not telling her about Henry sooner. She's so smart and strong and that's exactly what I need right now. I need her strength because I'm so overwhelmed with hurt and heartbreak, that I might consider running up to Henry's room and asking him why he's doing this to me. Even if I walk in on them doing explicit things, I don't care. I want an explanation—no—I deserve an explanation.

I head toward the front door and Rosa grabs me by the arm. "No way, Ry. You're not doing it. You're not going up there. I won't let you."

I've endured enough torture at Henry Garner's hand, a little more isn't going to kill me or will it? "Rosa, I have to know why." I wipe the tears from my cheeks and more roll down them. "I have to hear it from his lips."

There's no room for speculation when it comes to love and heartbreak. It's best to have every complication laid out in front of you. That way there is no room for error. If Henry tells me to my face that he picked Callie, there's closure. Without hearing it from him, there's nothing.

Rosa positions herself directly in front of me. "Riley, I'm not going to let you go up there."

More waterworks and now my nose is running. "Please," I beg then sniffle.

She shakes her head and at that point, I'm so hysterical that my whole body convulses. "You're supposed to be my best friend. Why do you insist on making me stay out here? Why do you insist on watching me in agonizing pain?"

Rosa hugs me as I hit my knees and she falls to the ground with me, keeping her arms wrapped around me tight. It's like I'm a recently stitched up would and Rosa is the bandage that's holding me together. "I'm not supposed to be your best friend," she tells me. "I am your best friend and this is what best friends do when they see their BFF hurting." She rises to her feet and pulls me up with her. "They pick you up when you fall." She traces the half-crescents under my eyes with her thumb. "They wipe away your tears." Then she takes my face in her hands. "Then they look you in the eye and tell you that you're better than that. Because you are. They tell you that you're being stupid because you are."

I suck back my tears and whimper, "Hey." A half-whine. Half-shout.

"I'm not finished." Her words are stern and forceful.

I shut up. My tears ducts are drying up. Rosa always has a way of making me feel better. I'm a puzzle with missing pieces and she's putting me back together again.

"Best friends remind you that you're a beautiful, amazing, person who deserves a guy who's just as devoted to you as you are to him. You deserve to be his one and only." She gazes intensely into my eyes and I smile. "Finally, best friends have each other's backs no matter what and no matter how this whole Henry thing turns out, I'll support you. Even if I don't agree with it."

"Thank you."

A soft smirk appears on her lips. "No problem."

She releases me and we turn, heading down the driveway toward the booger. "And another thing," she states and I look at her. "If he really is back with Callie, don't worry about killing him because I'll kill him first."
Chapter 16

" _Love has features which pierce all hearts, he wears a bandage which conceals the faults of those beloved. He has wings, he comes quickly and flies away the same."~ Voltaire ~_

Saturday comes. An early morning gust of wind whirls through my window and carries the scent of autumn in with it.

I'm not ready for the seasons to change from summer to fall. I'm not ready for change, period.

There's a bite of chill from the wind hovering above my bed. It stings my cheeks and I shiver. My eyelids flutter open as goose bumps line my skin. I look over at Rosa. She's hogging the blanket. Then I stumble out of bed, over to the window and close it with a growl.

Leaving my window open is a habit I'm going to have to learn how to break. Henry is a habit I'm going to have to learn how to break.

I've heard it takes twenty-eight days to break a habit. If that's true, I'm certain the twenty-eight days I have ahead of me will be the most torturous and grueling twenty-eight days of my life.

Before sliding back into my bed, I check my cell. No missed calls. No texts.

It's over, I tell myself. Stop thinking about him. But that's easier said than done.

Henry made feel special. He made me feel fearless. He made me feel loved.

As I climb back into bed, I yank the blanket away from Rosa. She groans rolls over, and plows the heel of her hand into my shoulder. Searing pain spreads across my arm and I wince. I express how the pain feels silently so that I don't wake her up.

After lying in bed awake for a while, I decide I can't lie there and listen to Rosa's light snoring anymore. I get up and go downstairs.

Metal gleams from the kitchen and casts a dancing light along the walls of the hallway. Our stainless steel refrigerator comes into view and a white piece of paper is hanging on the top by potato chip magnet.

I'm still freezing and I read the note as I rub the warmth back into my arms.

Riley,

Had to go into the office. I'll be home a little later.

Love you, Mom.

I'm glad she's not home. She'd notice that I'm upset and she'd want to know what's wrong with me. I don't feel like explaining nor do I want to.

Rosa grunts behind me. I look over my shoulder and she's stretching. "Good morning, sleeping beauty."

She laughs and runs her fingers through her bed-head hair. "I know."

I turn back around, tug on the fridge door, and examine our options for breakfast. "You hungry?"

"Meh. I usually just have coffee."

I pull out the milk and grab the frosted flakes from the top of the fridge. "Okay, I'll make a pot."

Rosa nurses her cup of coffee and I sit down across from her with my bowl of cereal. A lawnmower buzzes and I catch a glimpse of my neighbor riding around his yard. I can practically smell the musty fresh cut grass from where I'm sitting and my heart feels heavy.

Rosa cuts into my thoughts. "Has he called?"

I stir my cereal. "No."

I wish it wasn't sunny outside because there's a thunderstorm going on inside of me.

She takes a sip from the number one mom mug I gave her and I lift my head. "How are you feeling? Are you okay?"

"I feel destroyed and I'm not okay, but I'm sure I will be eventually." The problem is I don't know when that will be.

Rosa sets her cup down and squeezes my hand. "If you need me to stay for the next week, I will."

I smile. "Thanks."

She lets go of my hand. "But, I'm going to teach you how to make a decent cup of coffee. This tastes like liquid tree bark."

I laugh. "Then why are you drinking it?"

She shrugs and crooks me a smile. "I figure you're have a hard enough time, why make it worse."

****

An hour later, I stand with Rosa at the front door. She props the screen door open with her foot. "Are you sure you don't want to do something fun today? A random adventure might take your mind off of things."

"I'll consider it, but I really think I just need some time alone."

She tosses her purse over her shoulder. "Well, if you need me you know how to get ahold of me."

"I'll text you later anyway."

She points her finger at me. "You better. I'll worry if you don't."

Rosa walks out the door and I stand on my porch, watching as she treks down my driveway to the booger. "Later!" I call.

My gaze shifts to the oak tree in front of house, yellow and orange spots are forming on the jungle green leaves. The dulling colors blind me and a hollowed out hole in the trunk reminds me of how empty I feel inside. I'm a bottomless pit of despair.

After a minute I walk back inside and into the kitchen. I grab my empty cereal bowl and Rosa's empty coffee cup. _Empty. Empty. Empty._ Why does everything have to remind me of how I feel?

At the sink, I rinse out my bowl and her coffee cup. Then the doorbell chimes ringing out like church bells on Sunday. I glance at the clock. Rosa must have forgotten something. She's only been gone for two minutes.

I jog down the hall. "Coming!"

Sometimes I swear Rosa has dementia. She's always forgetting stuff—always in a rush. I yank the door open and shake my head. "What did you forget, now?"

As I turn my head my breathing stops. My lungs constrict fighting to release the oxygen. "Henry," I gasp. My stomach is a hive of bumblebees, buzzing and flitting their translucent wings. Swarms of yellow and black making honey. "What are you doing here?"

Tears glisten in his eyes. "I need you," he tells me.

For a moment time stops. I'm fighting for control between my head and my heart. My head tells me he's hurt me enough. It tells me not to fall prey to whatever he has up his sleeve. A spider, always managing to lure back into his web of lies, but my heart, my hearts swells and pounds so loud I can feel it my ears. The sight of his tears thrust into me like a spear through the side.

He wipes his eyes. "Can I come in?"

I look over my shoulder into my empty hallway. No mom. No Rosa. And there is no chance I'll be able to resist him If I do let him in. "No," I say and step onto my porch, closing the door behind me. "What do you want, Henry?"

He reaches for my hand, but I fold my arms across my chest. "I need someone to talk to."

I shrug. "So talk."

His hair is messy and he scratches the back of his head then looks at me, confused. "Did I do something wrong?"

As if he doesn't know. I'm perplexed by the sincerity in his voice. "Shouldn't you be over Callie's, talking to her?" My eyes burn into his. I feel like I'm in a coma. How am I ever supposed to recover if he won't let me?

"Why would I talk to her?"

"Because she's your girlfriend."

"No she's not."

I scowl. "You're lying." The conversation I overheard yesterday sounds off in my head like an over-played song on the radio. "Two guys heard you guys getting it on last night while I was outside."

A wide range of emotions pass over his features. He clenches his jaw. "I don't know what you're talking about. I didn't hook up with her. I dumped her; she threw a lamp at my head, and then trashed my room."

I roll my eyes. "Right." I'm trying to keep my emotions in check because I don't know what to believe. "After all that you've put me through you expect me to believe that?"

"Believe it because it's true." There's no warmth to his voice. It's ice cold. "I just threw away a four year relationship for you and you're acting like a heartless bitch"

My mouth drops open and I shove him. "I thought you didn't love her! I thought that four year relationship was long gone anyways! What? Did you give a pity screw? One last romp with Henry Garner?"

I'm in his face and he leans down, a cold calculating look on his face. "You're unbelievable!" His teeth are gritted and he's breathing heavy.

"No, you're unbelievable! Coming over here trying to spout all the same pathetic lines that I've been falling for months and after last night expecting me to still believe them! You're the heartless one! How many times have you ripped out my heart and stomped on it? Huh, Henry? How freaking many?" I sound crazy, but I don't care. "You didn't even call me to tell me you dumped her. You let me believe that you chose her over me!"

"There's a damn reason why I didn't call!"

"And what's the reason? Come on. Feed me another lie. I'm waiting for it."

He scowls. "You know what, forget it." He turns around and walks down the porch steps.

"Forget you!" I shout as he struts down my sidewalk.

"You should be saying that to yourself!" he booms. "Because I already did!"

I watch Henry Garner, the love of my life run down my driveway and his words haunt me. _Because I already did._

Then I hit my knees and bury my head in my hands and that's when my whole world comes crashing down.
Chapter 17

" _Better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all." ~ St. Augustine ~_

I stay in bed for the rest of the weekend with thoughts of Henry's last words looming in the back of my mind. _Because I already did._

How can you forget someone you love just like that? How can you say something like that to someone you love?

Maybe I was being a heartless bitch. Maybe I was too harsh on him. Maybe he was telling the truth.

I'm not sure if he'll ever talk to me again, so I don't know if I'll ever find out the answers.

Rosa calls. I don't answer. She texts.

Ry, R U ok? I've been callin.

I text back.

I'm fine.

The only reason I text her back at all is because I know she won't leave me alone until I do.

Mom cracks my door open. "Riley, sweetie, dinner is ready."

"I'm not hungry," I force out. Food is the last thing on my mind. I bury myself deeper into my down comforter. "I'm tired."

Mom walks over to the edge of my bed and sits down. "Are you feeling okay sweetheart?"

Inside I'm screaming just leave me alone, but I know she's concerned and I don't want to worry her. "I'm just feeling a little under the weather. I think I just need to sleep it off."

She peels back my covers, leans down and kisses my forehead. "Okay sweetie." She walks to the door. "I'll put your plate in the fridge in case you're hungry later."

"Thanks Mom."

I wait until she's out my door before I snatch my cell from the nightstand, and I know I shouldn't do it, but I send Henry a text.

What R U doing?

Minutes pass. Then an hour. No response. So I send him another one.

Henry? R U still mad at me?

The rest of the night passes by and I don't hear anything back from him.

****

Monday morning, at school I make it my mission to find him. I have to talk to him.

But school is weird. Something about it seems off. The halls are quiet even though it's filled with students.

Instinctively, I peer at Callie's locker. She's there hunching over, grabbing a book from the bottom, but Henry's not there. I scan the hall as students brush past me. I don't think Henry is even in school.

He's always hanging out in the halls before, after, and sometimes during class. I look to my left as Rosa struts toward me. "Hey," she greets me with a smile. "You look better."

"Thanks, I guess." I'm not going to tell her I feel better because in reality, I don't.

"So have you heard?"

I close my locker door and my eyes widen. "Heard what?"

"Henry Garner is officially back on the market."

"What?" I squawk and cover my mouth. "No."

I'm too shocked to even think straight. Happiness flourishes throughout me and I do the best I can to keep myself calm, but it's difficult. All I really want to do is jump up and down and find Henry and smother him with my kisses.

I'm not a fling. He cares. He loves me.

I see him so clearly in my mind. _I did this for you, Riley. All for you._ Just like he said.

My heart races. Palpitates. Flutters. I'm going through withdrawals. That's how bad I want him to touch me right now.

"Yup. I guess he dumped her at that party he had. And from what I heard, Callie went berserk. Like psycho bitch berserk. I guess she threw some stuff at his head and slapped him."

"Who told you this?"

"I overheard one of the cheerleaders talking. I guess she was Callie's ride home and Callie told her everything."

Three sophomore girls pass us whispering 'Henry Garner' then they giggle amongst each other.

My stomach churns and twists and acid bounces against the lining like choppy water in the ocean. I feel sick and I'm mad at myself because he was telling me the truth. I need to find him. He needs to hear me out.

In a panic I stifle a look around the hall. "Well, where is he?"

"It gets worse." Rosa lowers her voice.

"What do you mean it gets worse? Did they get back together?"

She clears her throat and looks down. "His Mom died."

I let out a sob caught in my throat. "What?" The sound of her voice fades away and the hall blurs around me. "When?"

"Friday night."

I want to punch myself in the face. No. The self-inflicted pain won't even come close to the pain he's feeling now. He really did need me. He came to me for support and I turned him away when he needed me the most. And I hate myself for it.

"He came to my house right after you left on Saturday. He told me he needed me. We got in a huge fight because I thought he was just playing games with me. He was crying. Rosa, what should I do?"

We walk down the hall. "Did you call him?"

I nod. "And texted. He won't call me or text me back."

"Well, if I were you, I'd go find him."

"Rosa, I can't barge in on a funeral. Plus based on our last conversation, I'm pretty sure he never wants to see me again."

She reaches over and snatches the stack of books in my hand. "Go." There's an urgent undertone in her voice.

"What if I get in trouble?"

She smirks. "I'll take care of that." She grabs me by the arm and we duck into the girl's bathroom.

"What are you doing?"

Reaching into her pocket she whips out her cell. She hands me the pile of books. "Riley Davis," she begins, "this is your first lesson on devious behavior. Well, technically your second. I'd say your scandalous affair with Henry was your first. Rosa clears her throat, lowers her voice, and dials a number on her phone. A second passes. Then I hear the voice of Mrs. Gephart. "Mrs. Gephart," says Rosa in her new huskier voice. "This is Riley Davis's mother. I'm fine and you? Good. Good. She needs to come home right away. There is a family emergency. Yes. Thank you."

Another second later that PA sounds off.

Riley Davis report to the office please.

I shake my head. "I can't believe you just did that! What if I get caught?"

"Will you grow a pair and quit worrying about getting caught?" A devilish grin spreads across her lips. "Now get out of here. Go get lover boy."

I unload the pile of books in my hand into hers. "I owe you."

She laughs. "Oh, I know you do. And I will collect."

Before she can get another word out, I dash out of the bathroom, hoping that when and if I find Henry, that he'll forgive me.
Chapter 18

" _Love is a symbol of eternity. It wipes out all sense of time, destroying all memory of a beginning and all fear of an end." ~ Author Unknown ~_

I drive past the only funeral home our town has. There are no cars.

I'm flustered and in a panic. Heat sears through me and I start sweating. I have to find him. I need to find him. I turn on the air. Relief swirls through me as the coldness wafts over me, drying up the perspiration.

Henry, where are you?

Traffic whizzes by me and it seems like everyone on the road today wants to drive ten miles an hour. I honk my horn. The car in front of me is still stopped for at least thirty seconds at the stop sign.

Every second that passes is one second less that I have to find Henry. One second less of his time. And one second less that I have to ask for his forgiveness.

Next I pull into the cemetery parking lot. A vacant, newly paved parking lot. Only one car, a rusty old truck that's paint job almost matches the rust around its edges. If Henry isn't at the funeral home or cemetery, there's only one place left to look. His house.

I park down the street, taking in the line of cars in his driveway. Should I or shouldn't I? Would I be intruding? The last thing I want to do is upset him more than I already have.

The haunting image of the look on his face on Saturday resurfaces. What was wrong with me? Why couldn't I see there was more going on with him than our complicated relationship? Because I was being a jealous moron. I let my emotions consume me.

My fingers inch back toward the ignition. I shouldn't be here. He needs to spend time with his family. He wouldn't want me here.

A fist pounds on my window. I turn and jump. Henry leans down and looks inside the car. We gaze at each other for a moment. Our eyes locked intensely. Deeply. Separated by the thin strip of glass. I feel my eyes watering, but I can't look away. I place my hand on the glass and it's like I'm reaching through the closed window, feeling his skin on mine.

Henry breaks first and steps away from the window. My heart plummets from its cavity to my stomach. I feel the red fleshy organ beating everywhere. In my head. In my ears. Even my toes. "Come back," I whisper. "Stay."

A second later, my door opens and Henry stands on the end. He motions for me to get out and I do. I get out, close the door, and lean up against the car.

An unsettling silence fills the air. I feel Henry's eyes on me so I look up, then I look at the ground. Neither one of us knows what to say.

Henry shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks on his heels. "So."

"I'm sorry," I blurt out. "So sorry." And before he realizes what's happening I lunge at him, wrapping my arms around him, clutching the back of his shirt, grazing my fingertips over the smooth flesh on his back. I'm glued to him and I hope I stay like this forever.

He hesitates and a nervous sensation courses through me. _Touch me. Henry, please touch me._ "Please forgive me," I tell him.

His hands trail down my back and he grips me tightly. Then he plants a soft kiss on the top of my head. "You're forgiven."

A sob full of relief whooshes from my lips. The hurt and fear inside of me evaporates and is replaced with unrequited joy. "Thank you. I'm so glad. I felt so terrible after our fight."

"So did I. I'm sorry for what I said too."

"I didn't think you'd ever forgive me."

I lift my head and he releases me and takes my face in his hands. He's gazing through my eyes, searching. Searching for my soul. "How can you say that?"

"I was harsh. And selfish. I didn't even consider—"

"Shhh, he interrupts me. He brushes the tips of his thumbs over my cheeks. "You don't need to say anything."

"But I do."

Henry places his forehead against mine. His needy desperate hands pull me closer. "No you don't. No matter what happens between us. No matter what kind of fights we have in the future. I just need you to know something."

Our mouths collide. My breaths hike as my fingers swirl through his hair. He cups my neck kissing me harder. He pushes me into my car and his hand goes up my shirt and his fingertips brush against my bare midriff. Inside I'm a forest fire. Don't put me out.

I arch my back as his lips trail from mouth to my neck. I close my eyes and hot tears, like fresh precipitation on a windshield rain down my cheeks. I turn my head and he stops kissing me. Warm air leaves his lungs and caresses my ear. "You just have to know," he says in between breaths.

"Know what?"

He's cupping my face. His eyes are full of emotion and I can't think of anything, but how bad I want him to kiss me again and how bad I want to live this moment, entrapped, like we're snow people in a holiday globe, surrounded by glass and fake snowflakes.

"That you are my heaven."

I cup his face and kiss him softly. "And you're mine."
Epilogue

" _Whatever our souls are made of. His and mine are the same."~ Emily Bronte ~_

I lie in my bed listening to the soft pelting of raindrops against the side of my house. I try to sleep, but I can't because I know he'll be here any minute, to embrace me. wake up with me, and love me.

A giddy feeling of excitement circulates through me and makes my heart pound, beat and flutter. I've only been away from him for hours and I already miss him like crazy.

Soft footsteps. I sit up. Henry closes my window. I beam radiantly, so consumed by my love for him that I do think there's room in my body for any other emotion. He gives me an enchanting smile and walks quietly to the bed.

I back up, closer to the wall, roll over and he slides in next to me. He touches me outside, his hand slides up my bare thigh. He touches me on the inside too. My soul mate.

He kisses my hair. "I love you."

The simple phrase fills me up with so much delight that when I croak out the same phrase, "I love you." I'm certain my voice is trembling.

I back up, closer to the wall, roll over and he slides in next to me. He touches me outside, his hand slides up my bare thigh. He touches me on the inside too, caressing my heart, caressing my soul. He's the other half of me. He's my soul mate.

He kisses my hair. "I love you." The words blast off in my head like an amp at a rock concert, so loud and so beautiful that I don't care if I lose my hearing over it.

The simple phrase fills me up with so much delight that when I croak out the same phrase, "I love you." I'm certain my voice is trembling.

His teeth graze against my jaw line and my heart leaps and soars. I'm flying. I'm a kite. He pulls away from me. I reach out to him. "Stay," I whisper.

Henry smiles. "Always," he tells me. "I'm never leaving."

"Why did you pull away?" I ask. There's sadness in my voice. I want him to touch me. I need him to touch me.

"It's pouring outside," he says. "I got my socks all wet."

A hushed laugh leaves my throat and he's next to me in a second, lacing his arm through mine and resting it on my hip. He nestles in closer to me, until he's so close I feel his warm breath against my ear. He's at home, with me, our body parts entwined.

Some women settle, they give up their search for their one true thing. The kind of love that makes you weep. The kind of love that fills you up with so much joy that you feel like a balloon about to bust. The kind of love that leaves you breathless and starving at the same time. But now I know that kind of love is out there. Waiting patiently for the right person to come along. All you have to do is find it. And every person in the world deserves a chance at finding it.

I've come to the conclusion that nothing is fair when it comes to love, lust, and heartbreak. Love can be many things. The intense emotion can be beautiful, fleeting, and joyous. Yet at the same time it can be wicked, deceitful, and gut-wrenching.

Even though love has its ups and downs, for most there is a happily ever after and I'm so lucky that I found mine.

Lauren Hammond knew from a young age that she was born to be a writer. After publishing her first novel in 2007, she then went on to write several screenplays and a few award winning poems. She aspires to be a positive role model for young people who have a pencil, a piece of paper, and a dream. Never give up on your dreams, you might wake up one day and regret not pursuing them. She currently serves as the Executive Literary Manager for ADA Management Group, has twelve novels slated for release between 2011 & 2012, and resides in Ohio.

