Please Love Me Back

by Melanie Marks

  Shane smirked at Blake. “Make it shiny and black,” he said. Then he sauntered away, throwing the hundred up in the air and catching it like a ball.

  Blake muttered, “I can’t stand that guy.”

  “I know,” I said dryly. Then added, “Just don’t let him get to you. He likes to make you mad.”

  Blake ran a hand over his face. “I just can’t stand him close to you. I hate that he has you in classes—and that you owed him money. Why did you take money from the dirt-bag?”

  “I didn’t. That’s not what happened—”

  The bell rang.

  Blake kissed me quickly before I could finish my explanation. Only how could I explain the whole messed up situation anyway? I knew the actual, honest truth would destroy Blake’s ego, and make him furiously mad, and hurt his feelings beyond repair. And I couldn’t blame him—not for any of it.

  He kissed me quickly again. “I forgive you,” he said. “I know it wasn’t your fault. I’ve got to go though.”

  “Bye,” I whispered after him as he hurried down the corridor.

  All through class I felt sick. Blake said he “forgave” me. Forgave me for what, though? Being poor? What a champ. But what would he do if he knew the truth? Could he forgive me for that? After all, that was a real betrayal. Something I actually had control over. Would forgive me for the truth?

  I laid my head on my desk, really not sure.

  ***

  When I opened my locker after class the hundred was in it again. I looked up and there was Shane watching me from across the crowded corridor. My heart thumped hard and wild. No! Stop!!

  He slowly trailed over to me, his gorgeous dark eyes not leaving mine. Pound, pound, pound went my heart.

  “I’m not going to tell you where Trisha is,” I informed him, figuring that’s why he kept giving me back the money. Like a bribe—the hundred, and keeping my secret from Blake—in exchange for information about Trisha.

  Shane leaned against the locker beside me not saying anything, his eyes just watching me. Finally he said dryly, “You realize you wrote about me, not your boyfriend.”

  Heat swamped my cheeks. What could I say?

  I winced. “Yes, but you can’t bribe me with that, Shane. It would be all kinds of wrong for you to get involved with Trisha again. You realize that, right? I’m not going to give you information so you can stalk her, so just be on your way.”

  He grinned, “Who are you to call anyone a stalker?”

  I snapped my mouth shut. Right. Fair enough. I quickly clicked my locker shut. “In any case, I’m not going to tell you where she is.”

  I started to walk away.

  Shane softly murmured after me, “1120 Bedred street.”

  A chill went through me. I turned back to him. “What?”

  “That’s her address,” he said, then he strolled away.

  CHAPTER 11

  ***SHANE***

  SHANE

  I don’t actually want to stalk Trisha. I want to stalk Bethany. The chick knows me, well. Way better than beautiful, luscious, self-centered Trisha ever did. Bethany gets me—and seems to have stalked me a bit. I love that. The pretty cheerleader that always acted like she didn’t know me—stalking me. A disturbing thrill goes through me every time I think about it. Not that I’ll ever do anything about it. Ever. The chick could destroy my world with her pretty eyes and pink frosted lips that tremble any time the word “mother” is said.

  I’m keeping my distance from the beautiful Cheerleader.

  But I don’t wanna.

  CHAPTER 12

  ***BETHANY***

  BETHANY

  I gave Blake back his hundred after school.

  “It wasn’t even slightly close to that much,” I told him. “I owed him less than five dollars.”

  “Well, I don’t want you to owe him anything,” Blake said. “I’d rather pay the hundred than have you owe him. Stay away from him, Bethany.”

  “Well, I didn’t go near him on purpose.” Lie! “It was a class assignment.”

  More lies!

  I knew I had to come clean. But I didn’t want to. I really, really didn’t. Yet the truth came spilling out of my mouth because I hate lies and can’t bear guilt. And well, you can’t go around lying to your boyfriend. So I gushed out, “No—that’s not true, Blake. None of it is.”

  He jerked his head up. He squinted at me. “What do you mean?”

  “There was no class assignment. I owed Shane money because—because well, I wrote some books—because I needed money.”

  Blake’s eyebrows shot up. “What kind of books? Was he blackmailing you?”

  “No! No, they weren’t that kind of books. They were just little fluffy teenage romances. But—but he found out.”

  “Okay, so? And you were embarrassed? Don’t be. I think it’s cool you made money off writing books.”

  He kissed me. “My author girlfriend,” he murmured against my lips.

  Warm tenderness gushed through me. Oh how I wished that could be the end of my confession—with him proud of me. But now he was going to look up the books, of course. He wouldn’t find them, since I used a pen-name, but he would hound me to get the name. And if I didn’t give it to him, he’d probably get mad. And if I still didn’t give it to him, he’d probably demand it from Shane. And this was one demand Shane would probably quite delightedly hand over to Blake.

  I swallowed. “Um, the stories are kind of—a little bit—about … Shane.”

  I felt Blake stiffen.

  Immediately he stopped kissing me.

  His brow lowered and he narrowed his eyes into slits. “What?!”

  I bit my lip, knowing I didn’t need to repeat it.

  Blake glared at me. “You wrote books about Shane?”

  He slammed his fist against the locker beside him, then stormed away.

  “Blake!” I called after him, but he just kept walking. “Blake!” I called again.

  But he didn’t turn around. He just flipped me off.

  CHAPTER 13

  ***BETHANY***

  Okay, my boyfriend flipped me off, and my total enemy now knew I wrote romantic books starring him. I was not having a good day. Then I got home and my dad told me we had to move.

  “We just can’t afford the house anymore,” Dad said.

  I nodded, understanding. I did. It’s just—this was the house I’d always lived in. The house that held all of the memories of Mom. But I refused to cry. Not in front of daddy. He was going through enough heartache. He didn’t need me bawling in front of him.

  So I just nodded. “Okay.”

  “We’ll rent a house,” he said. “It will have to be small—nothing like we have here. But I’ll make sure it’s in our same school district. We’ll move, but you and your sister won’t have to change schools,” he promised.

  I nodded again. “Sounds good, dad.”

  Then I rushed upstairs, figuring I’d bawl, but not without a fight. I quickly got out the script of the school play I was working on. It was “my” play. I was in charge of it. It was for my senior project.

  Brushing away tears, I determinedly read through it as tears poured down my face, but I tried to concentrate on that—my play—instead of dad’s sorrowful eyes, or the fact Blake had flipped me off.

  Blake hadn’t texted me back all day. I figured that was okay. I’d see him at play rehearsal tonight. He was the lead male role. I didn’t give him huge amounts of lines, because he was busy with football. But he had an awesome singing voice, and I needed him for the solo at the end of my play.

  I quickly baked him cookies, and planned out my big, long apology and puzzling explanation for how it came about—how my books became about tortured, broken, brooding Shane.

  … but as I went over it again and again in my head, I realized I couldn’t tell this stuff to Blake. No way.

  It made it sound like I had a crush on Shane. Blake could never, ever bear to suspect that.

  Also, he had no clue about S
hane’s trip to Sunny Brook Mental Hospital or why, and there was no way I was going to tell him. That was poor Shane’s personal business, and I knew Blake would eagerly spread it all through the school.

  I didn’t know what I could do. How I could explain it: why I wrote about Shane.

  The truth was—Shane made a good book hero. He just did. He was grouchy and mean, yet underneath, he was soft and kind. At least that’s the way Trisha had made him seem … and what I’d witnessed. I mean, the dude was messed up—no doubt about it. But he had qualities (and eyes) that called to a girl’s soul.

  Admittedly (sadly) even mine.

  But let’s get real: The dude had laughed at me for sobbing over his poem, and only ever talked to me to wind up poor Blake. I didn’t have a crush on the dude. I wanted to slug the dude. Okay, okay, and kiss him. (But only in my dreams.) (Which weren’t my fault—at all—they were subconscious.) But in my wide-awake consciousness I knew the dude was pure trouble.

  Just, unfortunately, he made a good book-boyfriend.

  I mean, when you took out the real stuff.

  (And added a lot of kissing.)

  CHAPTER 14

  To my dismay and alarm (though not shock) Blake didn’t show up at my play rehearsal.

  Okay, I got that the dude was mad at me. He had every right. Though him flipping me off had not filled me with warm fuzzies towards him. Not in the slightest. (And it was kind of annoying to make him cookies after such a gesture.) Still, I got that he was angry. And hurt. I got that. I did. But the play was extremely important to me. It was my senior project. I had been working on it all last year, and planning practices around Blake’s busy schedule. I knew he didn’t exactly want to be in my play in the first place. He was just doing it as a favor to me. But I really, truly needed him. Like I said, he sang the important solo at the end of my play. It was huge. And only Blake could pull it off.

  But he didn’t come to my practice.

  It had my stomach in knots. Not only because I desperately needed him for my lead part in the play, but because I desperately needed to make things right between us. I’d baked him his favorite cookies, and wore his favorite outfit that he had picked for me himself—it wasn’t exactly my style (at all) but it was what he liked me to wear. So, I was wearing it today, especially for him, and wore my hair the way he liked. I took huge painstaking care … and then he didn’t even show.

  Okay, I’d kind of suspected that he wouldn’t, since he hadn’t answered any of my text, or communicated with me in any way today since hearing about my books—well, except when he flipped me off. (Grrr!) But still, the play is a huge deal. I had hoped he would at least come to the practice, even if he was mad at me.

  But no.

  With my stomach in a ball of aching twisting knots, I held practice anyway—without him. I could tell my lead heroine, Sabrina, was disappointed he wasn’t at the practice as well. However, I was kind of uncomfortable with that. (Sabrina obviously has a huge crush on Blake. She always has—and unfortunately she gets to kiss him near the end of the play, though it’s just supposed to be a little peck, I can always tell she’s hoping for more.) (Skank!)

  When rehearsal was finally over, Sabrina wandered over to me. “Where’s Blake tonight?” she asked, trying to sound innocent and casual, but really she was wayyy too interested.

  “Busy,” I told her. “But we had things to work on without him, so it’s fine. See you tomorrow,” I said, then rushed out of the auditorium before she could tell my lip was trembling.

  I hated being in a fight with Blake.

  I needed to make things right with him.

  Desperately bad.

  I left my plate of cookies on his doorstep with a note that said. “I missed you at practice tonight. I’m sorry that I hurt your feelings (by the way, you hurt mine with your hurtful finger gesture). Please try to forgive me, and give me a chance to explain. I love you Blake! Please don’t let my foolish blunder ruin everything between us. It’s NOT at all the way you think. I promise. I only want you—only you.”

  Of course, I’d pretty much said all of that stuff already in my many texts to him all afternoon, so I didn’t figure the note and cookies would make much difference, but I didn’t know what else I could do.

  Needless to say, I didn’t sleep very well that night. Or at all.

  However, the next morning Blake finally texted me back. Unfortunately, it was during my math class—where we’re forbidden to use our phones. But when I got Blake’s text, I was so relieved and happy to hear from him, I threw caution into the garbage can.

  Blake had written: “Okay, look, I’m sorry about blowing off your practice, and my inappropriate finger gesture. I was mad, and VERY hurt. But I didn’t sleep at all last night. I couldn’t. I love you. More than words can say. So I want us to work things out.”

  I was so happy to read those words, I quickly started to text him back, but in the middle of my long gushing prose, a hand snatched my phone. A large hand.

  My teacher’s hand.

  “You can pick this up after detention,” my teacher told me, giving me a cold, threatening look as he stomped off with my phone.

  I slumped in my seat. Detention!! Yikes, I never had that before. I tried to use the excuse of “school-spirit” on the grumpy guy—hey, you never know who it will work on. I mentioned halfheartedly, “But I have cheerleading practice after school.”

  He turned back to me. “Not today, you don’t.”

  ’Kay.

  I tried to look on the bright side: at least it wouldn’t interfere with my play rehearsal. Look, I know I mention it a lot, but I’m doing it for my senior project. It’s mandatory. Not the play. But a time-consuming project that involves leadership on my part. I’ve been working on it since the end of last year and it’s finally coming together.

  At least there’s that.

  And hey, Blake forgave me!

  So all is well.

  Only … detention? Really?

  CHAPTER 15

  I’ve never been in detention before in my life. When I get there though, I’m not too terribly surprised (at all) to see that Shane Shade is there as well. He’s already seated, talking with a blonde that looks like she desperately wants to brush Shane’s shaggy hair out of his dark eyes so she can get a better look into them.

  I know the feeling, unfortunately.

  I quickly hurry to the back of the classroom, hoping to be unnoticed. But immediately Shane gets up from his seat, and slides himself into the chair next to me. “What are you doing here?” he asks.

  “Stalking you, obviously.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” he says with a grin, seeming pleased by my wry total deadpan answer.

  He asks, “Shouldn’t you be at cheerleader practice?”

  “I should—yes. But you shouldn’t talk to me,” I tell him, since he left Blondie in mid-chat to sit beside me, and now he seems eager to chat me up. What’s that about?? This is Shane Shade—he ignores me. Always. (Well, until yesterday.) (Groan!)

  A little smile tugs on the corners of his gorgeous lips. “Why shouldn’t I talk to you?”

  “I have a boyfriend, as you know. And as I know, you only talk to me to bug him.”

  His eyes spark with amusement. He lifts a brow. “Oh, that’s why I talk to you?”

  I give him a withering look. “The way you’ve just suddenly started doing it—yes. I’m on to you, buck-o.”

  Thank goodness the teacher announces that detention is now formally beginning. He also announces there is to be no talking. (Thank goodness!)

  I quickly get out my homework, and try to ignore Shane’s hungry eyes on me.

  He writes on my open notebook page, “Why are you here, cheerleader?”

  I write back, “None of your business, detention-boy.”

  He writes sardonically, “It’s probably going to go into a book—so it is sort of my business.”

  I read his words and groan. Then I quickly write, “Stop talking to me.”


  “Why? Your boyfriend isn’t here. I thought the only reason I talk to you is to bug him.”

  I quickly scribble my answer in my notebook, then hand it to him: “It is. Why do you have to taunt him all the time? And start FIGHTS with him?”

  I rub my curiously sweaty palms on my jeans, watching as his dark hair falls over his gorgeous long-lashed eyes as he scribbles his answer in my notebook. He hands it back to me and I feel his eyes linger on me as I read his answer: “Sometimes I have a darkness in me. It’s hard to feel unloved by someone you want to love you.”

  Oh my gosh!! My heart sinks. It falls to the ground and bleeds all over the floor filling up the classroom, drowning me.

  My eyes well with tears.

  Everything inside me aches for him. Dies for him.

  After a moment of contemplating how to handle such an astonishing and heart-wrenching cry for help, my hands tremble as I write: “I’m sure your mom loves you dearly, Shane. I have no idea why she keeps taking your father back.”

  I hand my notebook back to him, wanting to give him a hug.

  He reads my answer and his eyebrows go up. His jaw muscles flicker as he stares at my words a long, long time. Slowly he writes me back, pausing, and scribbling things out.

  His eyes intently on me, he hands me back my notebook. “I wasn’t talking about my mom. Or at least I didn’t think I was. How do you know so much about me?”

  I read his words and freeze. Yeah, I guess I’m not supposed to know so much about his life. It’s none of my business. And besides, let’s not be stupid and forget—he’s my boyfriend’s total enemy.

  But I can feel Shane’s eyes on me. He seems to be holding his breath, waiting for my answer.

  My heart is pounding too hard. What can I say? I shouldn’t say anything. I should stop communicating with him. He’s my boyfriend’s enemy.