“Dutch, we both know you’ll survive. Comfortably. I saw you surviving with a blond just about ten minutes ago.”
I’m sure he smirked at that. He texts back: “Spying on me?”
“Goodbye, Dutch. Have a nice life.”
“You’re mean, Audrey.”
“You’re a player, Dutch.”
“I’m not. I was just waiting for our deal to start. Saying goodbye to everyone—my kisses say it better than my vocal cords.”
When I don’t reply, he texts more: “At least you’re saying goodbye this time. Last year you just stopped talking to me—without saying a word.”
“Goodbye, Dutch.”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
CHAPTER 25
So, that was my last conversation with Dutch—through texts.
After that, he started kissing girls whenever I caught him staring at me. To prove a point, I guess. That I wanted those kisses to be mine. (And I did.) (So much.) Still, enduring that agony was better than what my ex-boyfriend, Fenton, was doing.
Fenton would stare at me, and if I ever (unfortunately) noticed it, he would flip me off, or give me dirty looks. That is, when he wasn’t sending me gifts and poems and trying to get back together with me.
Both made me uncomfortable—the glares, and the wooing.
I’d broken up with him because I just wasn’t feeling it.
His roller-coaster craziness wasn’t really changing my mind.
It just made me wonder why I got together with him in the first place.
Though, he had my whole cheerleading squad against me. He was our school’s golden boy. I was just the wench that broke his heart.
But to be fair, he had stacked the deck against me right from the beginning. When I first started school here, he’d helped me move into my dorm, introducing himself as “single.” He kept stressing that—he was single. So when we went to the school’s mix and mingle together that night, I was in for a train-wreck. Because I discovered at the party that he had just broken up with his long-time girlfriend that morning. And what was worse was, the girl he broke up with was captain of the cheerleading squad—that I had just been accepted on the week before. The dumped cheerleader’s name was Jenna. Needless to say, she hated me from that moment on.
Then, when I broke up with Fenton—the school’s super star—everyone hated me.
So, fun.
Not.
I had to come to this sports award dinner I’m at right now alone. I didn’t want to come at all, since it’s full of jocks and cheerleaders—my biggest haters at the moment. Yet I had to come anyway because I’m getting an award for cheerleading, and things would be worse if I was a no-show, believe me. But I couldn’t even bring Lindsey with me, or anyone. The space was packed, so limited to only sports-people.
So, blah.
While I’m standing in the buffet-line, innocently plopping food on my plate, one of the cheerleaders makes an announcement at the podium.
She announces Fenton Myer—my ex—won’t be attending the banquet tonight, or receiving his award or giving his speech ... because he was just admitted into Sunny Brooke Hospital after downing a bottle of pills.
Hearing that, I freeze.
My heart decimates.
“He’s fine,” the cheerleader says bitterly, “but no thanks to his ex. Since that’s why he took the pills. Because she broke his heart and won’t talk to him.”
Shaken and trembling, I can’t move.
I feel like I’m going to keel over.
I want to just leave. So bad. But I’m in heels and wobbly, and I just need to sit down for a moment.
I suck in my breath, then awkwardly carrying my tray of food, look around the crowded banquet room. Not a friend in sight.
I’m actually shaking.
People are glaring at me.
I’d like to ditch my tray and run.
But I’m trembling and having trouble just walking. No way can I run.
Instead, I shakily carry my tray of food around the crowded room, anxious to just find a place to sit—anywhere. That is, anywhere that people won’t glare at me or whisper about me…. Unfortunately, that’s starting to look like nowhere.
Desperately trudging around the narrow isles, none of my semi “friends” are inviting me to sit with them. Whenever I catch their eye, they look away from me as though hoping I will pass them by. So, I do. Since I’m suddenly a leper, so I can’t blame them. Well, too much. Though the more it happens, the more my eyes begin to water with threatening tears.
As I trail around, my cheeks burn as though they’re on fire. Inside, I yell at myself, Just find a place and sit! But it’s not really that easy. I don’t want it to look conspicuous that I’m alone. Actually, I don’t want to be alone. Plus, there’s just not that many empty seats. At least not any that I can find as I wonder around, close to tears.
Oh, perfect. Awesome. From across the room, I see Jenna and her friends watching me. They have evil smirks on their faces. (Jenna is Fenton’s ex-girlfriend. So, of course she is loving this—me getting glares and shade.)
Laughing, Jenna calls out loudly (probably drunk), “What’s the matter, Fenton-stealer? You don’t have any friends? What a shock!—no one wants to eat with Fenton’s heart-stomping, back-stabber.”
“Yeah,” her best friend Macy snarls. “Back-stabber!”
Her friends all start chanting it, “Back-stabber! Back-stabber!”
My hands are shaking so bad I’m about to drop my tray, but suddenly, from out of nowhere, Dutch is beside me. He takes the tray from me and tenderly puts his warm hand on my elbow, gently leading me towards the nearest table.
“Audrey, smile,” he whispers softly in my ear, his warm breath heating up my chilled neck. “Otherwise, they’re going to think they can get to you—don’t let them.”
I have no idea why he’s being nice to me. Not after I treated him so horrible—and ignored all of his texts.
But my mind is a blur. I just let him gently lead me to safety.
He has me sit at a table beside him. Really, really close. For comfort.
… and it is comforting.
He whispers in my ear, “Eat Audrey.”
I shake my head, so close to tears. “I can’t.”
It’s just as much from him—from him saving me as anything else. It’s making me too emotional, and reminding me of all the nice things he’s done for me my whole entire life—threatening boys that picked on me, giving me rides to school though his girlfriends glared about it, teaching me to pray. He was always there for me.
Always coming to my rescue.
Yet I’d treated him horrible. Ignored all of his texts.
“Why are you doing this?” I whisper huskily.
“Doing what?” he asks.
“Being nice to me.”
“You know why Audrey,” he says gently.
I tilt my head at him. “Why?”
“Because I love you.”
He says it softly. “I’ve always loved you. Since I was a little boy.”
I suck in my breath.
When I can finally get my lungs to work—you know, breathe—I whisper to him, “I love you too, Dutch.”
He grins tenderly, “I know, Audrey.”
Then he adds, gently pressing his forehead to mine, “—but thank you for finally figuring it out.”
CHAPTER 26
Instead of following me home, like he does from The Cheesecake Castle (apparently), instead of doing that—following me—Dutch walks beside me. He walks me home.
We sit out on my front steps and I admonishingly remind him about that night he needed a date to the infamous art party. “I was so hurt,” I tell him shyly. “You had texted to Carly: ‘It can’t be Audrey, Carly.’”
Dutch tilts his head. “I wasn’t rejecting you that night, Audrey. That’s not what I was doing.”
He stares into my eyes. “It was at a party where there was going to be drinking—I didn’t want you at a party like that.”
&nb
sp; I grunt.
Dutch grins, amused and obviously now aware of the irony—that I was drunk at that very party.
His grin grows, “Look, if you went through with that crazy deal you were cooking up for your roommate, I was going to use it to start making you come to church with me—I think you’d like it. And I can’t really get serious with a girl that doesn’t go to my church.”
A warmth shoots through me. “You want to get serious with me?”
He takes my hand, sending tingles crashing through my body. “I want to get so serious with you it’s not even funny.”
Happiness flooding my heart, I muse, “I guess I could go to your church—and you don’t even have to blackmail me.”
I smile at him, “Me and God—we’re close these days. He gives me hugs.”
Dutch grins. “Well, can I give you one right now?”
“You may. But don’t expect to compete with God’s.”
His grin quirks with amusement, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
But I knew I’d dream of this moment over and over—Dutch taking me into his arms, kissing me on my lips. Mmm.
It was a dream come true.
And I really didn’t mind going to his church. At all. I was curious to go. Dutch’s church had helped make Dutch the awesome guy he was. Plus, you know, I liked hugs from God. It would be nice to go to His house, hang out there, feel His love. And Dutch’s love.
I happen to love love.
You can never get enough of it.
… and I could never get enough of Dutch’s kisses.
Good thing he became my boyfriend, huh?
My boyfriend—“The Kisser.”
You’ve got to love that!
Note from the authors
We hope you enjoyed the story.
Keep reading. After the following book info there is a romantic teen novel. It is by Melanie Marks. It’s titled: Ex-boyfriend.
*The story you just read was co-written by: Melanie Marks and Yolanda Love. We hope you enjoyed it.
Melanie Marks’ newest novel is: The Player.
(The book also includes the story: “Ally Has Amnesia.”)
Look for it: “The Player (plus: Ally Has Amnesia)”
available now
Other new books by Melanie Marks:
Smokin’ Hot (Accidental) Kiss
Heartbreaker Hanson
Love Liam
Kissing Kade
The Tough Boy’s Tender Kiss
My Forbidden Heartthrob
Dearest (Hot) Enemy
The New Boy
My Brother’s Best Friend
(Right now each of those books only costs a dollar)
(Or you can read them for free if you have Kindle Unlimited)
***
Summary of
Melanie Marks’ newest book
HEARTBREAKER HANSON
Three hot guys, one girl. Sounds dreamy, right? … Well, not if you’re one of the hot guys.
*Brooke Watts: To be fair, there are only TWO hot guys. And they are both off limits. One of them is my friend’s ex-boyfriend, and the other is a heartbreaker (I call him Heartbreaker Hanson—but his name is Rider Hanson). He was my kindergarten boyfriend. He dumped me and broke my heart … and then went on to make a career of it—breaking girls’ hearts.
*What Rider Hanson says: Hey, I’m NOT a heartbreaker. When beautiful Brooke owes me a favor she offers to help convince the girl of my dreams that I’m not really a heartbreaker (though apparently it’s written on the girls’ bathroom walls that I am) (Brooke wrote it). But sure, I’ll let Brooke help me get my dream girl. Brooke just doesn’t realize SHE’S that girl. Definitely Brooke, help me out.
https://www.amazon.com/Heartbreaker-Hanson-Melanie-Marks-ebook/dp/B01GFNFKK0
***
Summary of Melanie Marks’ book:
The Tough Boy’s Tender Kiss
The (hot) tough guy at our high school left me a steak. A STEAK!! He also left a (bizarrely sweet) bewildering note with it. It said, “This is juicy and well-done … just like your performance tonight.” (Don’t get too excited about that, my “performance” was in the sad school play.) Later, he told me he was being romantic with the steak. He was only teasing. He said, “What? I heard girls like food for gifts—I was being romantic.” Like I said, he was only teasing. Sadly, he’s ALWAYS teasing me. So it bites that I’m falling for the guy, but I am. Hard. Because he’s just the way I like my steak—hot, tender and delicious. He’s a sinful delight for my longing, hungry mouth. Well, I mean his tender KISS is. Mmmmm. Let me tell you, the boy can kiss!!
**Summary: The tough guy at school has it bad for the sweet new girl. Can he show her that he can be tender?
https://www.amazon.com/Tough-Boys-Tender-Kiss-plus-ebook/dp/B01HNFE99W
**Note: After the following peek of Melanie Marks’ book, His Kiss, there is a teen romantic novel by Melanie Marks called: Ex-Boyfriend.
Summary of
His Kiss
(Right now this book only costs a dollar)
Ally’s world was totally on track: the right boyfriend, the right school activities, the right plans. But then she is bribed into kissing the school “bad boy.” (Griffin Piper.) Now nothing is right. Nothing! Because all she can think about is … His Kiss.
His Kiss
CHAPTER 1
Griffin shut his locker, then did a double-take when he saw I was standing there, waiting for him. He tilted his head with his usual smirk. Only, it wasn’t exactly his usual smirk. He looked perplexed, but sort of happy too. It was like he was trying to figure it out, mentally scratching his head: Why would shy little Ally Grange be standing at my locker?
He cocked his head further, quirking an eyebrow. “You looking for me?”
I sucked in my breath and gave a slight nod.
His lips twitched, obviously entrained by my discomfort. “What’s up?”
I bit my lip. Good question.
Tugging at the hem of my sweater, I took a deep breath, trying to summon up a little courage. I needed it. ‘Cause Griffin wasn’t exactly considered a nice guy. In fact, he was considered a terror on the hockey rink and not much different off it. And I wasn’t exactly Miss Confident when it came to mean people. I shied away from confrontation—any confrontation—and tormentors—at all cost, but here I was, seeking out Griff the Grief-Master.
He smirked again, his eyes twinkling with a strange combination of curiosity mixed with amusement. “Just spit it out.”
“Aiden Hanks,” I blurted like a cough. “He’s my …”
When I choked again Griffin finished for me still looking curious. “Your boyfriend.”
I nodded, surprised. I didn’t know Griffin knew that. I didn’t know he knew who I was.
Griffin grinned, light dawning. He had definitely figured it out. “Oh, you’re here to beg me not to bash his face in.” He tossed his history book from one hand to the other, looking amused. “The twerp sent you?”
“No!” I rushed out my next words to stop him from getting the wrong idea. “Aiden doesn’t know I’m talking to you.”
He grinned. “Then why are you talking to me?”
“Because—like you said, I don’t want you to bash his face in.” I stared into Griffin’s twinkling eyes. “Please don’t.”
I don’t know where that came from—me being brave enough to stare into The Griff’s eyes. Maybe it was because he kept smiling at me, acting like I was fun to talk to, or look at, or something.
Griffin leaned against his locker and wet his pink (gorgeous) lips. He gazed at me intently a moment, then up at the ceiling. Finally he groaned, letting out a breath, and looked back into my eyes.
“Look,” he said, for once sounding serious, “I have to. The punk talked trash about me in front of the whole team. It’s not like I can ignore it.”
“Yes you can!” I said, following at his heels as he started to walk away.
I said it again, all squeaky and desperate this time since he w
as ignoring me. “Yes you can!”
Griffin kept walking, so I kept following, like a puppy dog begging for attention, yipping at his ankles.
“Please, can’t you? Please?”
I grabbed on to his arm out of desperation. That was all, just to get his attention since he had apparently ditched listening to me. But when I grabbed onto his arm he abruptly stopped walking. I mean, he froze.
Yikes! My chest went tight. What had I done?
Griffin turned back to me and stared at my hand on his arm. I snatched it away lightening fast, terrified he was going to hit me for touching him or being annoying or something. But when he didn’t push me down or pound me to the ground or do anything but stare at me with his swoon-inducing long-lashed eyes, I swallowed finally going on with my plea while I had his attention—only now I was shaking and unnerved on even more levels. I mean, The Griff was … hot. He was. I wasn’t really paying attention to that before, since I was pleading for my boyfriend’s life, but now that Griffin was looking at me like that—well, I noticed. And it distracted me, even now while I was petrified.
Still, even though my mind reeled from that, I managed to squeak out, “I have some money—not much, but …”
Griffin smirked, then shook his head. “I don’t want your money.”
For some reason that made my stomach feel funny. I guess because of the way he said it. And the way he looked at me when he said it. It pushed my pulse into over-drive and got my heart pounding.
“Then what?” My voice hitched. “What can I do?”
A sardonic grin played on Griffin’s lips as he eyed me. Then he lifted his chin and challenged. “Kiss me.”
My stomach fluttered. “Wh—what?”
Griffin’s eyes twinkled. “You heard me.”
I stared at him. He had to be kidding. Had to be. Only he didn’t look like he was kidding or sound like he was kidding. He looked and sounded amused, teasing, but still, serious. Like it was all funny to him—getting Aiden Hank’s girlfriend all worked up and sweating—but he’d let Aiden off the hook if I did what he said. Those were his terms. He had offered me a deal. Only … it was weird.
Want To Hate You ... Too Bad I Love You Page 16
