Let Me Love You: A Novel Page 5

  “Vivi! Vivi!” Moon’s voice drifts to my ears.

  He seems to recover first, looking straight past me to Moon, who’s running towards me.

  “Vivi! Vivi!” Moon shakes me out of my fog.

  “Moon! Didn’t I tell you to stay with Gigi?”

  “I came to tell Vivi that Gigi found her money.”

  Not a second later, Gigi comes rushing along too.

  “Dear, I found our money. It was in the other pocket. I sewed a new pocket inside my jacket this morning. I thought to keep the money safe there but forgot it was there.”

  I can feel my face flushing hot in embarrassment. He, on the other hand, has a smug look on his face, like he’s having so much fun living off my embarrassment.

  “Zacky.” Moon goes to hold his hand. He smiles down at her and ruffles her hair.

  I refrain from speaking and try to look confident and strong, like I’m unaffected by this whole ordeal, but the warmth in my cheeks won’t stop. I look down, unable to meet his gaze anymore. I hear him talking to Gigi. I take a sneak peek at him while they’re busy talking.

  To say he’s handsome is an understatement. This guy is simply gorgeous and captivating. If Mandy saw him, she would stamp him as her future boyfriend immediately, like that Zac Elliot she keeps going on about.

  I think back to my mysterious Phantom guy, the one who kissed me that night of the festival. I wouldn’t mind if this guy is him. I would even let him steal another kiss.

  Wait! What am I thinking?

  “I’m sorry, young man. My granddaughter can be a little discriminating sometimes. Forgive her.” I hear Gigi apologize to him.

  “It’s fine, Nancy.” He smiles. Then his attention turns to me.

  Somehow I feel quite exposed with him staring intensely at me like that, making me feel uncomfortable in my own skin. I subconsciously pull on my sleeve to cover up my wrist and let my hair cover my forehead a bit more, an action I always do when I’m uncomfortable.

  I admit he takes my breath away, what with his blackish disheveled hair in his eyes and his tall, lean body that looks like he’s just jumped out of a Calvin Klein poster, despite the crutches and white cast on his leg and all. I can’t help but keep stealing quick peeks at him underneath my lashes. Then I realize I’m simply behaving in an odd way. This guy, despite his superior genes, is still a total stranger, and strangers should never be trusted. So I harden my heart a bit more, willing it not to beat too loudly just because this hot guy is standing here.

  “What’s your name?” he asks.

  I don’t respond because I think he’s still talking to Gigi, but then he repeats his question. I look up and answer him.

  “Ivy.”

  “Umm. Ivy,” he says, like he’s caressing my name with his tongue.

  Despite trying to look unaffected, I can still feel my cheeks growing warmer.

  “Tell your Aunt Vivi to make sure she finds all her evidence and has witnesses available for testifying before accusing people of a crime. Could you do that for me?”

  Even though he’s talking to Moon, that last sentence is directed at me.

  “Mmm.” Moon bobs her head up and down, drawing his attention back to her.

  He straightens, gives Moon another ruffle on her head, thanks Gigi again, then turns to me, giving me another of his mysterious looks before hobbling away and exiting the hospital. My heart doesn’t stop racing until I get home.

  When I arrive, I get a call from the PHST program at the hospital, which Mandy advised me to enroll in, a great distraction that I welcome with open arms. At least I won’t be thinking about that guy, Zacky, and his intense and electrocuting stare.

  The call informs me I’ve been accepted. I’m very happy. Now I can earn more money. This means I can put more into my savings account to go towards university for my law degree and save another portion aside for Gigi’s and Moon’s medical care.

  My new student is a recently released patient in need of extra help in algebra.

  Perfect. Just my field of expertise.

  The next day, I arrive in front of my student’s residence with feelings of trepidation and nervousness. My student lives on the eighth floor of a very posh building in the grand location of St. Clair, a very well-established area, overlooking the pristine St. Clair Beach.

  Hopping into the elevator, it’s only a short trip before the door dings open again. I step out, look for apartment number eight, and then freeze. My limbs won’t move, even when I demand them to. No matter how many times I tell my heart to stop the thrashing sound against my ribcage, it won’t.

  No. I can do this. My first home tutoring job. I’m stepping towards the future, towards a life without regret.

  My heartbeat gradually slows. Taking another deep breath, I knock on the door. A second later, the door opens to reveal a Mediterranean middle-age-looking lady. She smiles at me.

  “Hi. My name is Ivy. I’m here to tutor someone named Zachary,” I tell her.

  “Hm. Master is inside,” she says politely, letting me in. “I will go get him. You are welcome to wait in the study.”

  She leads me into the study, then goes out again to look for Zachary.

  Having nothing to do but wait for my student to appear, I wander around the room, looking at all the ornaments on display.

  I conclude that whoever owns this apartment must be wealthy. Firstly, there are lots of trophies in the shape of golf balls. It’s like a shrine. I’ve never played golf before, but from what I’ve heard, anyone who plays golf could be considered rich.

  Moving along, I find another shrine, this time of sheet music. Many lie scattered around on the table. I pick one up, looking at all the swirly lines and weird symbols. Suddenly, my eyes catch sight of a guitar case, partially opened to reveal the instrument inside.

  It is a beautiful guitar made of golden wood. I feel the grain underneath my fingers. It feels very smooth, like soft silk, but cool, like an ice block.

  Something else suddenly catches my eyes, tucked between the guitar strings. I pull it out. It’s a picture of a guy in a Phantom mask and black attire.

  I move the picture closer to my eyes. My heart beats faster and faster as I remember that mask and that black attire. It’s him, the guy who stole my first kiss, the guy I wanted to identify.

  Before I can think of anything else, the door suddenly bursts open, freezing me in my spot. I can’t move. I can’t even turn around to look at the person entering. My feet just won’t obey me.

  Because I don’t turn around, that person starts moving towards me. I hear clicks, like sticks hitting the floor.

  “Sorry, I was busy in the loo. I’m Zac. Nice to meet you.”

  That voice again! Is this my imagination? Surely everyone doesn’t sound the same in this part of the island.

  I eventually turn around and—

  I’m in shock. My cheeks grow warm and my heart jumps so fast I’m thinking I’m having a heart attack. I can’t speak. The only thing I can do is to stare at him and blink, because standing there right before my eyes is the one guy who I accused of stealing Gigi’s money at the hospital.

  But how can this be? The guy who kissed me, he was so sweet. He helped me out of the crowd. But this guy, he embarrassed me in front of my family.

  There’s a twinkle in his emerald-green eyes, and because I’m in so much shock that no words can pass my lips, he speaks instead. “Aha. So Romeo finally meets Juliet again.”

  There’s no denying it this time. This guy is definitely the one that kissed me that night.

  Chapter 5

  ZAC

  My Tutor Juliet

  “Zac, your algebra tutor is here.”

  “Jesus!” I startle, almost flipping over my seat from Catalina’s sudden intrusion.

  “Sorry, Zac. Away with the music fairies again?”

  “Yeah.” I lie. I don’t want to tell her I’m freaked out right now about this new tutor of mine.

  Will my tutor kill me if she knows ho
w bad I am at algebra?

  “I put her in the study,” Catalina says, then closes the door behind her.

  I heave a sigh, feeling tired all of a sudden. I’m not looking forward to this. What the hell? I shake my head to dispel this negative thought. It’s either pass algebra or lose Elsa.

  I hobble myself out of my room. Just when I’m almost to the study, I have a sudden urge to pee. Damn, I hope my new tutor doesn’t mind waiting for a bit longer.

  All that thinking about my new tutor brings about a sudden ache in my heart. I’m not sure why, though, but it leads me to think about that girl named Ivy that bumped into me the other day. She was the Juliet I’ve been thinking about nonstop.

  I cursed myself at the time because, despite getting her name, I still don’t know anything else about her. She looks to be about my age, so I hope I’ll get to see her again at school. That is if she does go to Woodville High.

  Hobbling back out of the bathroom, I head straight to the study. I’m not prepared to meet my new tutor. Really, she must be some lousy old university student from somewhere. I mean, who else would excel in algebra but the ones who’ve already graduated from high school. And the name Miss Hamilton, that just sounds so ancient.

  Yanking open the door, I think I put too much force into it and the loud squeaky sound startles my tutor. Her back stiffens.

  I take back my thoughts. There’s nothing old about Miss Hamilton. She looks small and delicate, with soft brown curls pulled into a ponytail atop her head.

  I smile and hobble over to her. She still has her back to me. I clear my throat, then explain my lateness. “Sorry, I was busy in the loo. I’m Zac. Nice to meet you.”

  She turns around then and, my God, but I suck in my breath again. The power of the universe is one amazing entity. When one thinks of something, it comes to you. What are the odds of me seeing this girl again? Absolutely none, yet we defy the odds and meet each other for the third time in the span of a few days.

  When I see her holding the photo Loki took of me in that Phantom mask on the night of the music festival, I know for sure she must’ve guessed my identity. So I hint at her with my brilliant dashing grin and say, “Aha. So Romeo finally meets Juliet again.” That’s the line I whispered to her after I kissed her on that night.

  Her eyes are staring straight at me, and subconsciously, she bites her lower lip, and I know then she must remember me, but she doesn’t seem to react any further. I decide to play along, feigning ignorance of the fact that we’ve kissed.

  “You’re my new algebra tutor?” I ask with my fake innocence.

  She seems to lose her wit a bit. But with the clearing of her throat, she says, “My name is Ivy Hamilton. I’m here as your algebra tutor. Nice to meet you, Zachery.

  “Just call me Zac,” I say, grinning back at her, leading the way with my crutches. “The name is Zac Elliot, lead singer of Apollo, the rock band that’s very famous at Woodville High. Have you heard of me?”

  I can’t help but want to boast of my famous status, which comes as a surprise to me because I don’t like to show off my talent, especially to girls. But somehow with this girl, Ivy, she makes me want to show off my good qualities.

  “No,” she says simply, cutting it short and simple and all the way to my bones too.

  Ouch! That kind of hurt.

  I know I’m not into the whole lovely face thing, but this feels like I’m losing face. So I want to take revenge, maybe just a little teasing, just to get back at her for hurting my ego. I smile, leading her to the desk, a plan prominent in my head.

  “Right. I’m all ready to learn.” I square my shoulders and sit down right beside her. In fact, I’m almost glued to her side.

  “Can you tell me which areas of algebra you need help with?” she asks uncomfortably, moving her chair an inch away from mine.

  I love this reaction.

  “The whole lot,” I say, moving my chair an inch towards her again. “I failed my year-eleven test.”

  “Well, shall we start with the basics?” She stands to sit across the table from me. I hide a grin, knowing she’s affected by my presence. Once all comfortable, she says, “You know about the simple equations and simultaneous equations?”

  “I know about them, but I can’t seem to solve them. All of those X’s and Y’s,” I tell her. “And especially when the XX and the XY are together in one equation.”

  “That’s fine. We’ll start with that,” she comments with a straight face, ignoring my connotation. “If you can organize and gather your pens and papers, we shall start.”

  I hide another grin. When is she going to admit I’m the one that kissed her? Clearly, we both know of that fact, but we’re both too scared to admit it to one another. Well, I’m scared anyway. Plus, I’m too embarrassed. I wonder if she gets the hint. Maybe I should find another tactic. She’s not reacting to any of my suggestions at all.

  Ivy places her pens and paper on the table in front of me. Then she goes to rummage through some more stuff in her bag. Seeing the pens and paper on the table, an idea pops into my head.

  “Oh!” I pretend to shout with a jolt.

  She looks up at me in surprise. “What’s wrong?”

  “Why did you leave your pens out? You’re not scared someone might steal them?”

  I’m referring to the time she accused me of stealing her grandma’s money. She seems to know what I’m referring to because her cheeks instantly blush pink, but she puts on a scold instantly before returning to her rummaging.

  “Want some tea?” I suggest when I don’t get the desired response from her. “You might get thirsty after all the explaining.”

  “No thanks,” she answers and starts opening the textbook she took out of her bag.

  “Come on,” I say, urging her with a mischievous grin on my face as another idea brews in my head. “I didn’t steal this tea. My dad got it from China when he went over for his conference.”

  I see her breathing heavily as if she’s trying to suppress her anger. I just want to laugh. It’s so funny seeing her frustrated like this. She gives me a death glare and turns back to her work.

  I really want to listen to what she’s saying about the X and Y, but my mind just goes off on a tangent. Whenever she moves her lips or opens her mouth to speak, it just reminds me of that kiss, and I can’t help but keep staring at them. When I see her biting her lips, I know she must be thinking of the night we kissed too.

  Whether she’s pretending she doesn’t remember me in that mask, I decide to grab the bull by the horns and go for the kill. There’s no point in beating around the bush when it’s clearly not working. It’s best to go for the direct approach. So I ask, “Have you ever been kissed?”

  Ivy, who can’t seems to stop biting her lips between explanations, suddenly stops and screeches off her chair. She stands up to her full height, staring at me with her fiery chestnut eyes.

  “Zac, if you keep on going like this, I won’t be able to teach you.”

  I only give her a sly smile. “Are you intimidated or something? It’s a simple question. I just asked if you’ve ever been kissed?”

  “How is that related to algebra?”

  “Nothing. Just curious.”

  “Well, if you’re curious about algebra even a little bit, you would’ve passed your algebra test already.”

  “Well, letters and numbers aren’t my forte, but lips are something else.”

  My answer only makes Ivy grind her lips even more, and without telling me what she’s doing, she gets up, grabs her bag, and stalks to the door.

  Oh shit! I think I’ve gone too far.

  “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I was only trying to break the tension. You seem so tense.”

  “I’m not tense. I’m only doing my job as your tutor,” she tells me calmly. But I know inside she must be boiling. I think I did go a bit overboard there with my teasing.

  “Fine. We got off on the wrong foot. Let’s start over. My name is Zac Elliot. I ne
ed help in algebra. Thanks so much, Miss Hamilton, for tutoring me.”

  I hold out my hand, ready for a handshake.

  Oh, please, say you’ll forgive me.

  She looks at my extended hand like it’s a lethal weapon. Eventually, she takes it and shakes.

  Wow, it feels so nice and warm. Did I mention soft too?

  I actually want to hold that hand a bit longer, so instead of letting it go, I hold on to it. My hand must be sweaty because Ivy instantly yanks hers away.

  “Sorry.” I apologize and give her my best goofy smile.

  “Let… let’s get back to algebra,” she says, looking nervous all of a sudden.

  She takes her seat opposite mine again. I don’t want to intrude on her explanation, but I really can’t see what she’s doing on that side of the table. All the numbers and letters are upside down.

  I stand up and hobble over to her side. I take out a chair and sit beside her. But this time I make sure I leave breathing room for her. She gives me one of her weird looks again.

  Before she has the chance to speak, I say in my own defense, “I can’t see what you’re writing. It’s easier this way. I can see all the equations.”

  She seems happy with that answer.

  From that point on, we’re like little bunnies with tails up in the air while our heads are almost plastered to the table, nibbling on carrot sticks. Except these two bunnies are nibbling at algebra.

  Our lesson ends on a good note. Ivy immediately starts packing her bag. I don’t want her to leave just yet. It’s fun having her around.

  Maybe I can make up some excuse so she can stay a bit longer.

  “My dad said that if I don’t pass algebra, he’s going to take Elsa away from me.” I start telling her my true reason for learning algebra. That grabs her attention.