Maybe Me

  Maybe Me

  By Melanie Marks and Rachel Kiss

  Copyright 2016 Melanie Marks

  Copyright 2016 Rachel Kiss

  Cover image © Nicolesa | Shutterstock.com

  All Rights Reserved.

  Table of Contents

  Maybe Me

  His Best Friend

  Peek at: Jane’s Air

  List of dollar books

  Note: Melanie Marks’ newest book is: Jane’s Air

  (It’s available now)

  Melanie Marks Two Newest Books:

  Jane’s Air

  Please Love Me Back

  Jane’s Air

  Seventeen year-old Jane becomes an orphan and is pawned off by her aunt to work (and live) at the home (slash mansion) of the most handsome boy at Jane’s high school—Hunter Rochester. Hunter takes Jane’s breath away. But the handsome flirt is a mystery to Jane. Why did he persuade his mother to hire Jane to care for his little brother? And what other secrets is he keeping? (Jane has a secret of her own: she’s fallen for mysterious Hunter Rochester.)

  (Jane’s Air is available now)

  PLEASE LOVE ME BACK

  Seventeen year-old Shane Shade has it bad for his enemy’s girlfriend, Bethany. Maaaan.

  **BETHANY: Shane Shade? He’s known as “The Shade” or “Shady” to his hockey teammates. But to me he’s known as the guy that beats up my boyfriend. Okay, not going to lie: He’s hot. But dangerous—on the ice and to my heart.

  So why can’t I stop thinking about him? Why?? Okay, okay I guess it’s because he’s helped me out a couple of thousand times. (Secretly, he’s astonishingly sweet.) But he’s trouble. Even he admits that. So, again I ask—WHY can’t I stop thinking about him? Why?!

  (Please Love Me Back is available now.)

  Maybe Me

  CHAPTER 1

  “Hi Irelan, are you going to the club meeting thing?”

  I wrinkle my brow at the pretty girl. “Club meeting?”

  “Yeah. The GSA one after school. I was thinking maybe we could go out for coffee after it—or go to your house again?” She smiles, “Hint, nudge, wink.”

  I bite my lip. High school girls are like these beautiful delicate flowers. I’ve found you have to handle them with an extreme amount of tender care or they will crumble and wilt right before your eyes. It’s heartbreaking. I mean, when it happens—and lately it’s been happening a lot.

  I don’t want it to happen now.

  Only I can’t pretend to have feelings that aren’t there. I mean, that’s not right … right? I mean, I’d had fun with the girl—sort of—but the sparks weren’t there. I mean, okay, they were there—at that moment when we were fooling around, definitely—but now they’re not. At all. Only, I feel guilty. I mean, apparently the girl was more into it than me. “It” being an “us.” Which we won’t be. The girl isn’t even gay. She has a boyfriend—or she did. Man, I hope she still does. I mean, I hope she didn’t break up with him because of me. Because of my random moment with her. Now I have her all confused. Geez, I keep doing that—confusing straight girls. It’s a curse. Well, okay, I think that at times. Other times, not so much. Other times it feels more like a blessing. But this definitely isn’t one of those times.

  Looking into her pretty hopeful eyes, I duck my head. “Lauren, you’re not even gay.”

  Her smile wavers. Big time. “It’s Lori.”

  Man, I’m bad with names. Why’d I bother trying? I’m a wad. “Right. I knew that—Lori. You just caught me off guard—because you have a boyfriend.”

  Please don’t say ‘not anymore.’

  She bites her lip. “I know, I just thought—after the other night …?”

  “Yeah, that was fun, right?” I say really quick. “I had a lot of fun.” I raise my eyebrows, “You did too, right?”

  She nods eagerly. “A lot.”

  “Yeah. So, let’s not make more into it than that—okay? It was a lot of fun. But like you kept telling me—you have a boyfriend, and you’re not gay.”

  “But—but I thought …” Her lip trembles.

  I suck in my breath. Please don’t cry. “Look, I won’t tell anyone,” I promise her. “It will just be our secret.”

  “But I wasn’t going to keep it a secret.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut. “Okay. That’s your choice. I just thought because your boyfriend—I don’t know. You kept saying you didn’t want people to know.”

  “But that was before. Now—after being with you—I feel like I’m in love with you.”

  My heart drops.

  So does my jaw.

  She squeaks out, “I was going to break up with my boyfriend.”

  I blurt out, “Don’t do that.”

  Her lip trembles. “I was going to do it to be with you.”

  “Don’t do that,” I say again. “Look, you were all into your boyfriend until the other night. I’m sorry I confused you. I apologize.”

  She huffs, but not a mad kind. The kind like she can’t believe this is happening, and she wants to cry. She calls me out, “You seemed totally into me.”

  I swallow and nod. “I was.”

  At the moment.

  She looks hopeful again. “Then let’s just give it a try. I’m into you too.”

  I shake my head slightly. “You’re just confused. You should stay with your boyfriend, you seemed to like him. Don’t ruin your relationship over what we did. You’ll regret it.”

  She wipes away a tear. “You—you don’t even want to try?”

  I look up at the ceiling. “Lauren, I had fun. And you had fun. But you’re in a relationship, and no—I don’t want to mess with that.”

  “You should have thought of that before!”

  I groan from the quiver in her voice. “I know.”

  Lamely, I add, “I’m sorry.”

  But here’s the thing—I hadn’t expected her to go for me. She kept telling me she has a boyfriend and totally not gay. So, I thought she was just experimenting. (Girls like to do that with me—I’m totally fine with that.) (Well, usually.) I thought I was getting lucky, and not going to have to deal with drama. Wrong. As usual.

  “You’re a total player,” she snarls at me.

  At least she sounds mad instead of so hurt.

  “I’m not really,” I tell her.

  I don’t know how to handle this. I’d like to defend myself, yet I don’t want her to feel worse, yet I don’t want to give her any false hope. But mostly I don’t want her to cry. “I think you’re a really pretty girl. Your boyfriend is lucky to have you.”

  “You could have me!—in fact you did have me.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut. “Look, I really enjoyed the time we spent together. But you gave me the impression you were just in it for some fun.”

  “I did have fun!” she wails. “More fun than I ever have with my boyfriend.”

  I’m a good kisser. Or so I’ve been told. Many times. Still, I wince at her words.

  I draw out a breath. “Look, maybe you need a new boyfriend then. Or who knows, maybe a girlfriend. But don’t go burning bridges on my account, okay?”

  “Right—PLAYER. Thanks.”

  With that, she storms off. But hey, there were no tears. Or anyway, not many. So, all in all, it wasn’t too bad. Still, my stomach is in knots. She’s a nice girl. Well, probably. Can’t say I actually know her—as I guess is evident since I messed up her name. (I’m still not even sure what it is now—did she say Lori or Lauren? Or …??)

  As I’m pondering this—my gigantic wad-ness—Cheri stops me in the hallway. Of course the chick can stop me with just her luscious smile, but she actually says, “Irelan, stop!”

  So, you know—oh-kay! I stop. Eagerly.

  “What’s up?” I ask her, admiring her outfit. The girl
knows how to dress to show off her assets. And she’s got a lot of them—assets up the …

  She does a fake pout. “You were just going to walk by without saying hi?”

  I give her a faint wave, “Hi.”

  She smiles with a little laugh (man, I love her laugh), “Hi!”

  I raise my brow and say it again, “Hi.”

  I can do this all day, but I’m beginning to think she’s drunk. Or maybe she’s in love again. Seriously hopping it’s the other I ask half-heartedly, “Been drinking?”

  “No!” she groans with a little laugh. “I’m just happy.”

  “Who’s the guy?”

  “How’d you know?!—geez, you know me so well.” She lifts her chin challengingly, “You tell me who the guy is.”

  Cheri is a friend that I’ve had forever. We’re close due to that—having known each other forever. Our friendship is basically based on that. I however would like our friendship to be based on our lips on each other’s, but she doesn’t seem to go that way. I don’t push it. No one likes a pushy person. Well, unless they do. (Some do.)

  I look into her love-intoxicated eyes and grunt/groan. Tortured. “You’re back together with Jackson.”

  Her eyes light up. Well, even more than they already were. “Yes! How did you know?”

  It really doesn’t take a mind-reader. Or genius. Jackson is pretty much the only guy that can make her eyes light up like that. Plus, they break-up and get back together on a continual basis. Of course every time it happens she says: ‘This is the last time—I swear!’

  She’s basically the only person that believes her.

  She says it again, “Geez, you know me so well.”

  Like I said, it doesn’t take a genius. However, she does go through a lot of guys. Any time she and Jackson break up, she goes on to break hearts left and right. But the only person that can break hers is Jackson. So, now I’m back on guard. Waiting for her next fall.

  “I do know you well,” I tell her. “However, it doesn’t take a crystal ball when it comes to your love-life. It doesn’t even take much attention—it just takes eyes.”

  “I really didn’t think we’d get back together this time,” she says.

  “But you’re the only one that thought that,” I point out.

  “But we’d been broken up for months. You were the only one that got me through it, Irelan—thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. But I think it was all those guys you were with that got you through it.”

  She gives me a little pinch on my arm. “They were just distractions. Not even very good ones.”

  “Well, they tried.”

  “Possibly. But you were my only real distraction—thank you.”

  Hey, I tried too.

  She goes on looking all affectionate, “If it wasn’t for all of those nights you let me come over, working on songs with you, I don’t know what I would have done. I’m sure I mangled your love-life while you were trying to soothe me from mine.”

  Well, Lori/Lauren/Lydia/Lacy probably would have appreciated her mangling it a bit more. But not going to lie: I hadn’t minded having it mangled. Not by Cheri. She can mangle my love-life anytime she wants. In fact, she does. On a continual basis. She’s just not quite aware how bad. Or how often. But hey, I’m not going to tell her. I’m kind of a masochist when it comes to her. I’m willing to deal with a lot of pain in order to please her. Well, to try to please her. It’s really not that hard, though. She’s a really pleasant person.

  “So, maybe I can return the favor now,” Cheri says.

  I lift an eyebrow.

  “I mangled your love-life—maybe I can help you fix it.”

  I glance up at the ceiling. “Don’t go there,” I mutter.

  I have this on-again, off-again relationship myself. My relationship-y is a gorgeous little heartbreaker named Valerie. Mmmm, Valerie. I said I’m a masochist right? Valerie is my proof. She breaks my heart on a continual basis.

  Cheri says, “There’s a GLS—whatever meeting today, right?”

  “A what?”

  Cheri tries again, “LGBT?” She tosses her silky hair off her shoulders. “Whatever the letters are. There’s a meeting after school right?” She squints her eyes, pondering it aloud, “LGBTSA?”

  I smirk. “You’re going?”

  She smiles. “I’m thinking about joining the club. It’s an alliance, right? It means I don’t have to be all into any of the letters, right? … or does it?”

  I shrug. “I don’t go to those meetings.” Then I smile, “But I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to have you.”

  “Well, I don’t know about that. But they’d be thrilled to have you,” she says. “I’d go with you.” She nudges me, giving me a coaxing smile, “Could be fun.”

  I’m sure it would be—with her. But Valerie goes to those meetings. She’s very “active” in stuff like that. I’m not. I have ADHD. I have trouble focusing on stuff—and when Valerie is around, that’s all I can focus on. (Well, Cheri too.) (But I’m not supposed to do that.)

  I grunt. “I have soccer practice, sorry. But you have fun. I’m sure you’ll have the members in a good mood—well, half of them anyway.”

  “Irelan! I’m not going to go without you.”

  “Well, that’s too bad for the members. They don’t even know what they’ll be missing.”

  Cheri frowns, wrapping a tendril of her long silky hair around her finger (just like she has my heart wrapped around her finger). Her frown deepens, looking concerned. “Don’t you want to meet someone that you can have an actual relationship with?—instead of your no-heart-in-it random hook-ups?”

  “Hey, my heart’s in them—at the time.” When this doesn’t make her frown disappear (quite the opposite, actually) I point out, “Look, those meetings are led by Valerie. Do you really want me back together with Valerie?”

  Cheri quickly gushes out, “No!” Just like I knew she would.

  I give her a little grin. “Then I’ll see you the next time you want to get together to write a song—but I guess it won’t be for a couple of weeks.”

  Cheri gives me a baffled look. “Why’s that?”

  “You’re back together with Jackson. You forget about me when you’re reunited with him. It’s okay. I’ll wait out the couple of weeks—get my mouth a little action while you’re in your demented Jackson-zone, for a month—tops.”

  “Wait—what? I don’t ‘forget’ about you Irelan. Ever.”

  I grin at her dismay (it’s cute). “Yes you do. But it’s okay. I get it.”

  “No you don’t. There’s nothing to ‘get.’ I don’t forget about you Irelan. Never. Ever.”

  Man, how I wish that was the case.

  I can’t help a little laugh. “Whatever you say, Cheri. I’ll see you next month.”

  “No you won’t! You’ll see me tomorrow night. We’ll finish working on our song—just like we planned.”

  I grin, knowing this won’t happen. But it’s sweet that she thinks it will. Delusional, but sweet.

  “If Jackson lets you leave him Cheri-less on a Friday night, angels will come down from the heavens and sing in enraptured glorious amazement. But I’m not going to hold my breath waiting to hear angels.”

  Or for Cheri to be Jackson-less on a Friday night.

  Cheri shakes her head. “I’ll be there—well, or maybe not, since I guess Jackson does have plans made for us already. He probably wouldn’t be pleased if I backed out. But, Irelan,” she takes my hand (angels!), “You have to know, okay? The time we spent together recently—it’s meant a lot to me.”

  Stupid Jackson comes up the moment after she says this and breaks the spell I’m under. Okay, probably just as well, since I’d been under it with his girlfriend.

  “Hey don’t let me interrupt,” he says as he totally interrupts. But he does it with a teasing smile. He gives me a wink. “Making moves on my girlfriend?”

  She’d made the move … right?

  But unfortunately, it wasn�
�t really a “move.” Sadly. But hey, it will be in my dreams tonight. Guarantee it.

  “I’ll see you in a month, Cheri,” I tell her as I back away.

  She calls after me, “I meant what I said, Irelan.”

  I know she did. The chick digs me.

  … just not the same way I dig her.

  CHAPTER 2

  ***CHERI***

  *CHERI*

  I know Irelan doesn’t believe me, but I meant what I said to her. Spending so much time with her recently meant a lot to me. Way more than I felt comfortable with, actually. Yet, I couldn’t resist. She made me feel better. She always makes me feel better. And okay, I enjoy her shy little peeks at me when she thinks I don’t notice. Her warm attention is definitely an ego booster. And morale lifter. Her stare gets my spirits soaring. Especially lately.

  It’s kind of bad.

  Well, seriously bad actually.

  No other guy on earth could get me feeling that way while I was trying to get over my broken heart from Jackson. Not that Irelan is a ‘guy.’ But still. I swear, if Jackson hadn’t come crawling back to me right when he did, there were times I was ready to jump into Irelan’s arms. I mean, the way she stares at me sometime—swoon!

  Her eyes glued to me like that sends fireworks through me.

  So … it’s good Jackson came back around.

  I mean, though Irelan gives me all of her warm, scrumptious attention whenever I demand it from her, her heart really belongs to evil Valerie. It just does. Sadly.

  And also, let’s not fool ourselves: Irelan gives her warm, luscious attention to a lot of girls. Tons. And in record speed, she breaks their hearts. Seriously. Always. I get it though—why all the girls fall for her. I would fall for her. Definitely. If I wasn’t wiser. And stronger. And, okay, hooked to a guy that breaks my heart on a continual basis. But, unfortunately, I am hooked.

  But even if I wasn’t—Irelan would be a mistake.

  Like I said, she breaks hearts.

  Just this afternoon I saw a girl dash away from her crying. I could tell Irelan liked the girl. Her eyes had been all tender and caring while she talked to the pretty blond—yet the blond had run away from Irelan in tears. And Irelan hadn’t chased after her. She had just watched the girl storm away with her brow lowered and a concerned look on her face. But she didn’t chase after the girl. Instead, she walked the other direction. Just like she always does.