He Loves Me...He Loves You Not

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