Louder Than Words (Fall For Me) (14 page)

CHAPTER 39

Not wanting to burst out into
mortified tears in front of everyone, I waited until I got home to re-read my
journal. I had to find out exactly what Mason read.

I started with my last entry,
figuring that’s where Mason began—since that’s where my notebook would
have been
open to.

March
18,

I’m
at Mason’s house, baby-sitting his little cousins. He’s not here though. He’s
camping with his friends. I’m a lunatic. At the moment,
I’m
in his bed, wearing his shirt, smelling
his Mason-scent. I even brushed
my teeth with his toothbrush.

Wednesday
he finally noticed me back at school. He’d just gotten his pizza and noticed me
standing in the lunch line. He seemed hurt I hadn’t told him I was back. It’s
weird, but it made me feel good that he felt bad. I mean, at least he cared. At
least there’s that. Ugh! He’s adorable, but a total hazard to my heart.

It just went on like that.
Nothing too incriminating—but extremely embarrassing.
I figured if that’s all he read everything could still be okay. Pretty much. I
mean
,
he’d just realize I’m slightly demented, and
basically, he already knew that. At least I didn’t write anything stupid like I
loved him.

I crawled into bed, but though it
was after twelve, I couldn’t sleep. Sheep didn’t work. Nothing worked. My heart
was
all anxious
.

As I restlessly tossed and turned,
I remembered an entry I’d written in my journal over winter break. Feeling sick,
I kicked off my covers and reached for my journal, fumbling through the pages
until I found that entry.

December
21,

I
ran into Mason at Justin’s party. We played pool all night. It was fun. I miss
him! I didn’t realize just exactly how much until I saw him again. When he
first noticed me there—at the party—he smiled at me and, I swear,
my heart gushed and filled with this happy warmth. And I forgot all of my
problems. It was sooo good to be with him again. He makes me laugh. Sometimes
it seems he is the only person in the world that can do that.
The
only
person.

With
all my heart I wish …
Well
, it doesn’t matter what I
wish. Our history is complicated. Too complicated for Mason. He likes things
easy—easy girls, easy relationships (aka: no relationship at
all—just lots of mackin’ … with LOTS of different girls.) When Mason
looks at me, it’s easier for him to see me as a sister—
only
a sister … so he doesn’t have to worry
about hurting me. Which is sweet, of course, but that means he doesn’t see me
as a girl—well, he tries not to. And he’s frustratingly successful at it.
Usually
.
And why not?
Tons of girls throw
themselves at his feet. Tons!! Why bother to get involved with me
?—
a major complication, a person he doesn’t want to
hurt … so a person he won’t touch. To him I’m off limits. Off limits to kiss
and think about. I mean, sure, he’ll help me if I ever need him. I know that.
But he’ll never kiss me or even THINK of me of his own free will.

Ugh! The entry went on and on. I’d
written about his gorgeous warm eyes, how they made me weak in the knees when
I’d catch them staring into mine, and how when he licked his soft, pink lips I
wondered what it would be like to have them press against mine again, and have
his huge Mason hands tangle in my hair like they did at that party—that
one over a year ago. (Yes, I was still thinking about that kiss—and I’d
written
about it.)

Ugh, ugh,
ugh!

I sighed, closing the journal,
wondering if Mason was gloating over that entry right this minute. I wondered
if he even cared enough to gloat….

Just as I was being swallowed by my
own despair and humiliation, I heard a noise outside—at my window. My
stomach knotted with panic, but there was a wisp of hope stirring in me as
well. Holding my breath, I listened.
Tap,
tap,
tap
. Tap, tap,
tap
.
Our old signal.
My heart suddenly leaped against my chest. I
got out of bed and ran to the window. There I found Mason, crouching on the
roof below my windowsill. He gave me his most adorable smile and with my heart
beating all crazy, I let him in.

It had been years since he’d done
this—climbed up to my window in the middle of the night. He hadn’t done
it since middle school—since we were close, dear friends and told each
other everything.

Now we stood in the middle of my
room, gazing at each other, neither of us saying anything. It was weird.

“What are you doing here?” I
finally asked, folding my arms like I was mad.

Mason ran his hands through his
hair. “Man, I don’t even know.”

Again, we just stared.

“Look, I’m sorry I read it,
Summer
,” he finally said.

He
sounded
sorry.
That
was
weird. “The thing is though, it told me stuff about you I didn’t
know—stuff you would have never told me. Like, you’re attracted to
me—I never knew that.” When I tried to protest, he interrupted. “No, I
swear, I didn’t. Sometimes I thought maybe you were, but then I’d think: No,
this is
Summer
—she doesn’t really think of me
like that.”

I wrinkled my brow. I mean
,
I’d made the guy
kiss
me.

When I mentioned the kiss to him
now, he shook his head. “You were experimenting,
Summer
.
You were
always
experimenting. It was
like I was a science project to you.”

“Oh.” I guess in a way that was
true.
But only sort of.

Mason smirked in amusement at my
brilliant response. My enlightened, “Oh.”

But then he turned sober. “Look, I
didn’t think I had a chance with you. I thought if I tried to be more, you’d
freak out.”

Tingles washed through me. Everything
he was saying—all of it—I’d longed to hear it forever. But now that
it was actually happening, it was kind of scary.

I’d known Mason forever. It would
be weird if we suddenly got together—not a bad weird though.
A wonderful weird.
The bad weird would be when we broke up.
That would kill.

Mason took my hand, lacing his
fingers through mine. “Look Summer, I’m not going to let you go back to just
watching me—just day-dreaming. I mean, that’s lame. You’re a
coward—take a chance.”

Hearing him say that was kind of
brutal—mostly because it was true. I was a coward. But admitting I had
feelings for him was too scary. I liked him too much. I couldn’t lose him.

“
Summer
,”
he said, his voice tender, “we’re friends. It’s sort of scary to mess with
that. It is—I know. But I think we’d be good together.” He licked his
soft, pink lips—making them moist and shiny.
Totally
irresistible.
It had my heart all aching and yearning.

He gave my hand a little squeeze.
“Don’t you think we’d be good together?”

There were a million thoughts
swirling in my head. I wasn’t his type. He liked older, experienced, party
girls. Probably it wouldn’t work out. Probably I’d lose his friendship and my
heart would get all mangled and broken and ripped to shreds.

But here he was, in the middle of
the night, wanting to talk. He climbed up to my window and took my hand and was
looking at me all hungry and yearning. He was so doing that action
thing—his actions speaking louder than any words he could ever speak. Wasn’t
that what I wanted? What I craved?

Wasn’t it?

I swallowed and looked into his yearning
kind eyes—they seemed to be begging me to give him a chance, us a chance.

I swallowed again, taking a deep
breath. “Mason …” I couldn’t help remembering the blond waiting for him right
after he had whisked me into the janitor’s closet. That day I’d been so close
to giving him my heart. Yet seeing that girl with him—right after almost giving
into him—it crushed me.

As much as I wanted to trust him
now, to give him a chance—
us
a chance—I just didn’t feel I could.

But looking into his sweet, waiting,
hopeful eyes—I couldn’t tell him that. Instead I choked out, “I want to
give you a chance—
us
a
chance. I do. But I’m just not sure I can.”

His brow lowered. But then he nodded,
like he understood.

He said softly, “Okay, then just
give me a chance to make you sure.”

CHAPTER 40

MASON

I know I hurt
Summer
that day she saw me with Amber out in the school parking lot. It crushed her. I
know that. But I wasn’t expecting her out there—out in the parking lot. I
mean, it was class time and
Summer
is one of those
girls that always goes to class. She looks hot, and like she’d be a total rebel
but she’s not. She’s the sweetest girl I know. And she tries to play by the
rules. Even when the rules suck—like you can’t get involved with this
dirt-bag that is supposed to be your brother but looks at you like you’re a
piece of candy and he’s starving to death.

Anyway, I knew it hurt
Summer
to see me with Amber. But I’d only called Amber in
the first place (telling her to come and meet me in the parking lot), because
Summer
had
hurt
me
.
I
mean, she shot me down.
I’d taken her into that closet thinking,
This
is it—Summer finally knows what she
wants … and it’s me.
(Okay, I didn’t exactly think that. But I was hoping
it…. Of course, I’d hoped that a lot throughout the duration of knowing
Summer
.)

But I’d had my hopes all up and
then she shot me down. And it kind of crushed me, so I called Amber. Because
Amber was who I called lately to get my mind off
Summer
.

She kind of looked like
Summer—what with her silky blond hair, and long gorgeous legs, and the
first day I met her she was wearing these sexy long boots like the ones Summer
wore the day she wanted me to stomp her geeky ex.

Man, I’d gone wild for
Summer
in those boots. Could barely take my eyes off her,
though it made me feel like a creeper. I mean
,
I tried
so hard to keep thinking of her as a sister. Even after I moved out. ‘Cause I
figured realistically, that was the only way we could keep a
relationship—if it was hands off. ‘Cause face
it,
we were both messed up when it came to relationships. (Only, I sort of always
held out hope we weren’t able to keep with other people because we weren’t
meant to
be
with “other people.” We
were meant to be together. But it didn’t seem like
Summer
was ever going to figure that out.)

But now, finally, it was my chance.
I needed to work it so she could see—we were meant to be together.

CHAPTER 41

SUMMER

When I got to my locker Wednesday
morning my spirits
were
low. Like to the ground. My
heart was aching.

I hadn’t heard from Mason since
Monday night when he came to my window saying all that “give us a chance”
stuff. Yesterday (Tuesday) had been a day off from school for a
teacher-workshop meeting. So, all day long I trailed around hoping to hear from
Mason. Hoping he would do some grand gesture. Something to help me have a
little faith that there really, truly actually might be a chance for us. I
really
soo
needed him to do
something. Anything.
But no.
Not one text or email or
phone call or anything.

It hurt so
bad
.
‘Cause I’d been hoping, hoping,
hoping
he could somehow show me (or convince me) that we could really, truly be together.
Really
be
a couple.
But no.
Of course not.
It was already right back to usual with
him—out of sight out of mind. I was out of his sight—so I was once
again completely out of his mind. Grrr!

I was sooo sad and hurt and
disappointed. Still, I knew I should have expected it—the big let down.
Mason just isn’t a relationship kind of guy. Yet I’d been a pathetic sap and
let my hopes get up.
Like a mile high.

With a sad little sigh, I opened my
locker, then—
whoa!
A bunch of
kid’s hockey gear came tumbling out.

What
the—???

CHAPTER 42

MASON

The morning after climbing up to
Summer
’s window was a day off from school for a teacher
conference/enrichment thing. (I love those.)

I spent the day secretly watching
Summer
. Okay, you could call it stalking, only I didn’t feel
like it was. I was doing research.

It started out just as a
coincidence—me following her. I mean
,
I hadn’t
started out the day with the intent of stalking my
sort-of-sister/sort-of-girlfriend/sort-of-nothing-but-a-dream.

I was at the mall getting my aunt
her cell phone, which she forgot the day before at the photography studio in
the mall. She’d been getting pictures of my cousins. I just know that because
it seemed like she did it once a month.
At least.
She
was supposed to be saving money to buy her own place, but she kept buying all
these cute matching outfits for my cousins to wear instead, then going to the
photography studio and getting their pictures taken in them. She was like,
addicted to doing that. It was like she needed an intervention. I wasn’t
complaining. I’m just sayin,’ she needed help.

Anyway, I got the cell phone, then
I saw
Summer
… and I followed her.

The girl turns heads everywhere she
goes. But she’s used to it, so she ignores it—unless she’s feeling generous,
in which case she’ll give a guy a smile. Give his heart a little thrill and
make his day. But today
Summer
wasn’t feeling
generous. She was on a mission. She was shopping … for once not pining over
shoes. She was looking for hockey gear for Danny. But our mall doesn’t carry
stuff like that. Only
Summer
didn’t know that.

Thing was—she could have come
to me … but she didn’t. It made me wonder why. Wonder what I
did—ever—to make her think she couldn’t come to me with anything. I
mean, I knew she’d come to me for something big—like a guy stealing her
clothes, or taking steamy pictures of her. But I wanted her to come to me for
anything—everything—big or small.

I wondered why it was so hard for
her to do that. It made me think again about that day in the school parking lot
when I let her down so bad. Made me relive s
tanding out there with her and her mom, watching her tremble
as she stared at Amber and me together. Seeing her quiver like that—and
turn so ashen—it had scared me. Broke my heart.

And then I learned she was leaving—that she was going
away to freakin’ Connecticut—and she hadn’t even told me. It shattered
me. I’d wanted to take her hand and hold it to my chest, let her feel what she
did to my heart. And how there was no way it would go on beating without her.

I was thinking about that stuff now as I followed her.
Thinking and brooding.
Watching her on her hopeless mission
for hockey gear.

And I was like,
Man, why didn’t she come to me about this?

I mean
,
hockey’s my thing. (I’d like
Summer
to be my thing.
But hockey is a
sure
thing.)
Me and hockey,
we’re tight.

So, I watched
Summer
shopping for something hopeless and it bugged me. Left me wondering what I had
to do to get this chick to come to me. I mean
,
it was
easier when we lived in the same house. But even then, sometimes, it had been
like pulling teeth to get her to ask me—for
anything
. I guess she just didn’t feel like she could depend on
people. Not her parents—and not even me. But that sucked. I wanted her to
know she could depend on me.

Why didn’t she know that?

Then I groaned, running a hand over
my face, suddenly remembering something else—another time besides the
parking lot ordeal that had seemed (in her eyes) like I’d let her down.

I winced thinking about it.

That night at Jake’s
party—the one when she’d been dancing all sexy with her friend. That
night
… man, even now, the thought of
it gave me the shakes.

I remembered every second of that
night in vivid detail. Every. Second. Way, way too clear for comfort. Being
with
Summer
like that. Taking her in my arms.
I could feel her body shudder
when I kissed her, hear her soft little moans while our mouths got happily
acquainted.

I was in heaven for that little bit … yet in hell. ‘Cause I
knew we weren’t thinking the same kind of stuff—she was just messing around
… I was falling in love.

So yeah, I’d purposefully scared her—sort of. Not bad,
though. I just didn’t hold back like I usually did.
‘Cause
she was playing me at that party.
Messing with me. Not totally
consciously. But still, the girl could work me up without even trying. So,
attempting
to get my
attention—well, she got it. She just didn’t really want it. And I knew
it. But man it had felt good to give her some attention for once—give her
some of that hungry, longing attention that was building up inside me.

But yeah, I’d known it wasn’t going to go anywhere—our
hot awesome make-out. I wouldn’t have really let it. But I needed her to see I
wasn’t messing around. Of course she took it the wrong way. Instead of getting
it—that it was a warning—she thought it was some sort of rebuff. I
seriously did not get that.
At all.
But I let her take
it however she wanted. She knew what I meant—she shouldn’t mess with me
unless she wanted to be messed with.
‘Cause man, she was
tempting.

So yeah, that night I finally moved out. Had to. After
kissing her like that there was no way we could live in the same house. No way
I could pretend she was my sister anymore. After tasting those sweet, soft
lips. No way.

But then—man, it had been torture. It felt like
Summer
hated me after I moved out. She’d bail on any “family”
thing where I was invited and she’d walk the other way if she saw me in the
school halls.

All that crap—it killed me.

I swear, I went through months after that where the only way
I could stay away from her was by getting into fights—lots of fights. So
it helped that I was on the hockey team. I’d take out my frustrations on the
puck and the other team, and then grab the nearest blond and hope she wouldn’t
be upset if I accidently called her
Summer
.

Still, I knew (well, hoped)
Summer
’d
come around (stop hating me), ’cause we’d meant too much to each other to let a
fight come between us. So, I lived my life with my heart on hold—waiting,
hoping, praying for
Summer
.

For her to get that with us it couldn’t just be messing
around—not like it was with all those other guys she played with.
’Cause with us it wouldn’t just be a fling.
It would be for
real.

Then I heard her poem. (Man, that poem!!) When I figured out
it was about her and me—that
she
wrote it—it whipped me up. Got my heart pounding and got me hoping that
finally—(
finally!!
)—
she
figured it out: We were meant to be together.

But then she crushed me in the
closet.
I swear, she blew me away.

So, then I did what I started to
always do when I was longing for
Summer
—I called
Amber.

Amber was like a crutch I’d started
to lean on. She didn’t act or sound like
Summer
.
At all.
But she looked like her. And smelled like her. And
when I was with her, I could close my eyes and pretend I was holding
Summer
. Or close off reality and pretend I wasn’t a messed
up freak. It didn’t exactly work—using Amber like that—but I
couldn’t exactly be choosy. I mean, all I wanted was
Summer
.
Amber was as good of a substitute as any, I figured. Okay, really she was a bad
substitute. But then again, anyone would be. All I wanted was
Summer
.

So, yeah, I was screwed.

… Or thought I was.

Then I accidently read
Summer
’s journal. It blew my mind. Blew it in the most
glorious kind of way. After reading that one entry—over and over,
non-stop for like an entire night practically—just to make sure I really
got it. (And okay, I loved it.)

I swear, I actually started shaking
when I finally figured out I actually had a chance with her.

She thought I wasn’t ready for a
relationship.

All I had to do was show her. Show
her that no, I wasn’t ready for
“a”
relationship. But I was ready for
“our”
relationship.

I’d been ready a long time now. I
was just waiting on her.