Date Me (The Keatyn Chronicles)

I throw on a hotel robe, carefully darken my eye makeup, and add more blush. Then I hide in the bathroom and get dressed for the after-party. I want to surprise him with the full look.

I walk out into the living room. Dawson has changed into a pair of dark jeans, leather loafers, and a black shirt with silver stripes. He looks so incredibly hot.

“Whoa,” he says, grabbing my hands and taking in my metallic crepe strapless dress. “Now that’s a dress. What there is of it.”

He smacks my ass and tells me we better get downstairs.

Whitney and Jake are waiting in the lobby. Whitney looks perfect, not a strand of hair out of place. Completely different from the messy pony I'm wearing. But when you dance, you sweat, and there's nothing attractive about wet hair.

Whitney's club clothes, well, they aren't really club clothes. She's wearing a simple red silk dress with a black cardigan over it. She looks like she should be going to brunch at the country club.

I grab her hand, drag her back to the elevator, and tell them we’ll be back in five minutes.

“Let go of me,” she says.

I smile. “Nope, it's time for you to embrace your inner slut.”

“I don't want to look like a slut.”

“You're going to a crazy club, not the country club. You definitely want to look a little slutty.”

I pull her into our hotel suite. Of course, she takes in the articles of clothing strewn about.

“You ever think about cleaning up after yourself?”

I ignore her comment and lead her to a barstool. I pour her a glass of champagne from the bottle we didn't finish. “Drink. Don’t move.”

“You know, you’re kind of bossy.”

I grab my makeup bag and plop it into the counter.

“You have gorgeous eyes. We’re going to play them up a little.” I do up her eyes, starting with a white sparkly color in the corners, going to a deep rose in the middle and ending in an intense charcoal. I smudge a little of the charcoal under the bottom outer edges then add a thick swoop of a charcoal liquid liner with flecks of silver glitter. Then I find my reddest lip stain, carefully brush it onto her lips, and add some High Beam gloss.

“Okay, take off the cardigan.”

She takes off the cardigan to reveal the simple red dress and a pair of sparkly silver pumps. I grab my bag, which still has the black leather skirt I wore the other night in it. After our time at the lake, I just had thrown the little PJ shorts back on.

I’m trying to figure out what she’s going to wear for a top, when I spy a pair of scissors.

“Here, try this on,” I say, handing her the leather skirt.

She looks at the skirt like it’s a piece of trash. “Just because we want to look slutty doesn't mean we have to be cheap.”

I flash the Saint Laurent label at her.

She tilts her head, studying me and the skirt. Like she’s trying to decide if she should go for it or not. Finally, she takes it and slips it on under her dress. She holds the dress up and looks in the mirror. Then she spins around, scrutinizing the back. “My ass looks amazing in this skirt.”

“It does. And watch this.” I bend down and unzip the zipper that runs up the front middle of the skirt, giving her a nice slit leading straight to her crotch.

She studies her eyes in the mirror. “I can't believe I'm saying this, but I love what you did to my eyes.”

“Good, cuz you may freak about what I’m about to do next.” I hold up the scissors. “May I?”

She looks down at her dress, which I want to turn into a top.

She grabs the bottle of champagne, takes a big swig, and says, “What the hell.”

I carefully cut from the hem of the dress straight up to her bellybutton. Then I cut around the waistband of the skirt so that the new top will just graze it. When she puts her arms up to dance, her flat stomach will be nicely exposed.

She hands me the bottle and says, “Take a drink.”

I take a sip while she looks at herself in the mirror.

“Let’s go shorter.”

I cut up an inch higher all the way around. “You look hot,” I tell her.

“And you . . . I still hate you, but maybe not as much as I used to.”

I smile, knowing that’s a compliment.

“Come on, let’s go knock Jake’s socks off.”

Jake’s response is more than expected and he’s all over her in the limo.

When we get to the club, I’m shocked to see that the dance floor isn’t packed yet.

I grab Whitney, round up Peyton and Maggie, and lead them up to the center stage.

“Girls, it's time to get this party started.”

Whitney gets a panicked look in her eye. I know she's not a great dancer.

“Don't worry,” I tell her. “Just move a little and let your hands glide across the other girls’ bodies. Drives the guys crazy.”

The DJ sees us coming up to dance and cranks up one of my favorite songs.

I grab Maggie and grind up against her. Peyton does the same to Whitney and pretty soon we're in a line, butt to butt, and lost in the music.

I lose track of how many songs we dance to but when I look out, I’m excited to see that the dance floor is now packed.

I see Katie, yell at her, hold my hand out, and pull her up onto the platform. Dallas takes my hand as I climb down. He’s already hypnotized by Katie’s boobs bouncing up and down in her teeny top.

I find Dawson and Jake and pull them both onto the dance floor.

“Jake, go get Whitney.”

He laughs and says, “I’m just enjoying the show.”

Dawson pulls me close and runs his hands all over me. We dance for at least an hour before Dawson says he needs some water. “That champagne gave me a headache. They serving food?”

“Yeah, there's snacks upstairs. Want to get something?”

“Definitely.”

We go upstairs and find Aiden, Nick, and Logan chowing down. It's a little quieter up here. There's a balcony that's probably packed on a regular night, but our school isn't big enough for that. So this is a great spot to sit and watch everyone dance below.

“You go get food. I’ll get water,” Dawson says.

I’m waiting in the short food line when Aiden gets in line behind me.

“Hey,” I say to him. “Are you guys having fun?”

“We were having fun watching you dance on the stage. Although some of the things they were saying about my sister were a bit inappropriate.”

“Do you like watching girls grind on each other?”

“I like it better when we grind on each other. Don't forget you promised me a dance.”

“I won’t.”

“Great shoes by the way.”

“You noticed my shoes?”

“Yeah. The stones on the heels were catching the light when you were dancing. It looked really cool. Peyton asked me to take some pictures. Wanna see?”

He holds up his phone and scrolls to a picture of us dancing. There is light dancing all around my feet.

“Oh, that is cool. Will you send me that?”

“Sure. So did you do that to Whitney?”

I laugh. “Yeah. She got the Barbie Goes Clubbing makeover.”

“I’m surprised.”

“That I'm nice to people?”

“That you're nice to her after what she did to you.”

“Honestly, I mostly did it for Jake. He's my friend. And if that means Whitney won't hate me as much, all the better.”

“Just when I thought I had you all figured out, you surprise me again.”

I load up a plate with bacon and other breakfast foods.

“Was it a good surprise?”

His eyes bore into mine.

He nods, then smiles and steals a piece of bacon off my plate, popping it into his mouth. “This is good. We did good with the party, don’t you think?”

I look around. “Yeah, Aiden, we did good.”

I finish filling our plates with some fruit, a couple muffins, fried hashbrown patties, and French toast sticks. I don’t even think about the calories. I know I’ll burn them off dancing.

Dawson laughs about how much I eat of the kind of junk food I usually avoid.

“We're gonna burn it off dancing.”

He pulls my hand up to his lips and kisses the back of it. “I can think of some funner ways for us to burn calories.”



The party starts out fun, but as the night rolls on, the drama grows.

We take a break from dancing and Whitney runs to the restroom.

She comes marching back out with a pissed look on her face. Rachel and the minions are behind her and they all look to be in tears.

“Those backstabbing bitches,” she rants. “They all practically jumped me in the bathroom and bitched me out for dancing with you. For coming in the limo with you.”

“Well, I am practically your sworn enemy. You’ve confused them. They don’t know who the hell to like.”

Whitney breaks out in laughter. “They couldn’t find their ways out of a paper bag without me.”

“I don’t know what you said to them, but they’re all crying.”

“They’re all drunk. Which is something I am not.” She reaches in Jake’s pocket, grabs his flask, and drinks whatever was left.

Then she looks at Dawson. He takes the flask out of his pocket and hands it to her. The three of them do multiple shots.

Once it’s finished, Jake and Dawson go on a hunt for more alcohol.

I sip on my water for a few minutes and then go back out to dance.

Maggie is dancing with Parker, Nick, Logan, and Aiden, so I join them. Hard to believe that two of the hottest guys at school don’t have dates.

Aiden tells me it’s time for our dance and pulls me into his arms.

I pull out of his arms and dance with a more respectable distance between us but, really, we’re all sort of grinding on each other.

For the first time all night, they play a slow song. Aiden pushes his leg between mine and moves his hips against me. I feel the fog in my brain start to collect. Like it always does when I’m near him.

But, no.

I can’t.

“I told you, I can't dance with you like that anymore.”

He grins at me. “Can't blame a guy for trying.”

I gave him a sad smile. I had fun dancing with him. I don't know what kind of game he's trying to play. Maybe it’s just that gods are used to getting their way. Or maybe not getting a Homecoming date bruised his ego.

“What?” he says when he sees my pout.

I shake my head. “I’m just disappointed that you'd say that. But it shouldn't be a surprise. Have fun tonight, Aiden.”



I stop at the dessert table, grab a cheesecake square, then go sit down with Whitney.

“The boys still aren’t back,” she slurs.

I can tell that the alcohol she was chugging early is starting to affect her.

While I’m eating my cheesecake, I notice that Whitney is watching Peyton and Camden, who are doing some very dirty dancing right in front of us.

Jake and Dawson finally make it back to our table. Jake is stumbling a bit.

“Where have you been?” Whitney yells at him.

He goes to sit down, misses the chair, and falls flat on his ass.

Dawson drags him to his feet and helps him sit on the barstool.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Mission accomplished,” he says. He slides a flask under the table to her. She openly chugs from it.

I give Dawson a kiss. I can tell he’s a little tipsy and I’m happy he’s not drunk like Jake.

I hand him my bottle of water.

He takes a swig and says, “We’re heading back to the hotel now. I just called the driver.”

“That sounds like a good idea.”

“Jake and Whitney both drunk is going to get ugly. I don’t want them to ruin our night. I’ve had the best night with you.”

I give him another kiss. “I’ve had the best night with you too.”

He grabs my hand and says, “Come on, Jake. Let’s go.”

As we head out the door, Peyton and Camden follow us.

“Hey, bro, can we hitch a ride back to the hotel?”

“Yeah, sure,” Dawson says.

We all pile into the limo.

Whitney is swaying just sitting still. She’s looking from Dawson to Jake to Camden and it sort of reminds me of when I was standing in my entryway with Sander, Brooklyn, and Cush and wondering what in the world made me think having them all in one place was a good idea.

I guess at least she’s drunk.

Jake has his arm sloppily wrapped around her.

She whispers to Jake, but she’s drunk, so we all hear exactly what she says to him.

And I probably won’t be repeating it.

She tries to give both Dawson and Camden one of those looks that tell a guy that he doesn’t know what he’s missing.

Dawson and Camden laugh at her.

She ignores them, pushes Jake into a corner of the limo, and starts making out with him.

Dawson pulls me a little closer and says quietly, “I ordered us room service. It will be there when we get back.”

“Yum. What did you order?”

“Chocolate covered strawberries to go with the rest of our champagne and . . .”

“URRGGGG,” goes Whitney, and then proceeds to puke all over the floor of the limo, somehow, thankfully, managing not to get a drop on my leather skirt.

Got to give the girl points for that.

She wipes her mouth on Jake’s jacket then lies across the back seat of the limo and starts crying.

Jake slides away from her, holding his hand up to his mouth. Then he starts gagging.

I quickly reach over to roll down the window just as Camden gags and adds to the pile of puke on the floor.

Jake sticks his head out of the window like a dog.

Peyton leans over to me and says, “Is this awesome or what?”





Sunday, October 9th

Tigger with boobs.

1pm.



Dawson and I wake up late in the afternoon.

“I’m starving,” he says, as his stomach growls.

“Me too.”

We grab the menu, decide what we want, and he orders it.

When he sets down the phone, he attacks my neck and says something about how we have twenty-five minutes to kill.



While we’re eating, I hear my phone buzz.

I dig around the room, find my bag, and check my messages.



Katie: Where the HELL ARE YOU!!! I HAVE to talk to you about last night!!!!!!!

Dallas: Katie was making out with Tyrese last night after you left. Like we were dancing together, having fun. I come back and she’s making out with him. We’re done.



Me: Dallas! Are you okay? Are you upset?



Dallas: I’m more pissed than anything. Really, I feel used.



Me: Because you lost your virginity to her and she didn’t really love you?



Dallas: Ha! No. I’m pissed because I spent a bunch of money on her and then she does that. Although, really, we had no long-term potential. She’s way too high strung for me. It was like dating Tigger with boobs.



Me: OMG. She totally does bounce around like Tigger. Still, I’m sorry.



Dallas: I’ll survive. It’s not like we were going out. I’m still talking to other girls.



Me: Good. I’ll see you later.





Me: Dawson and I are in our hotel room. Where are you?



Katie: I’m at the dorm.



Me: Dallas told me you got drunk and were making out with Tyrese?



Katie: I think maybe it was more than making out. A lot more. I think we had sex. What if I get pregnant????!!!

Me: Oh, wow. Why do you think you had sex? Do you remember it?



Katie: Kind of. I remember thinking we were going to and then that’s it. I’m so embarrassed. And I’m FREAKING out. I think he was drunk too. What if we didn’t use anything?



Me: CALM down. It will be okay. Are you okay? Do you want me to come home?



Katie: No. But do you think maybe you could talk to him? I’ve been throwing up and I look like shit. Annie is here, but she doesn’t know what to do. She’s taking good care of me but, you know, she’s never done anything, so she doesn’t really know how I feel.



Me: Did he take advantage of you?



Katie: I wanted to leave with him. Would I have if I wasn’t drunk? No.



Dawson sees me frowning. “What’s going on?”

“Katie hooked up with Tyrese last night. Well, this morning, I guess, after the party. But she was really drunk and isn’t sure what happened. She’s freaking out because she’s pretty sure they had sex. Katie’s not on the pill or anything, so if they did it and didn’t use protection . . .”

“She’s been getting drunk a lot. It’s getting annoying.”

“I know. I talked to her about it. What should we do? Should I just call him and ask him if they did?”

He pops another French fry in his mouth, chews it while thinking, then says, “Let me.”

I give him a kiss on the cheek. “You are so adorably sweet. You know that, right?”

“I don’t think I do,” he teases. “Why don’t you show me?”

“Text Tyrese, then I will probably be needing a shower.”

“I was thinking we could stay here until almost curfew. Do all sorts of fun stuff. Enjoy the privacy.”

“That sounds like the perfect day. Room service and you.”

I lean back on the bed and stretch out like a cat while Dawson is texting.

“They did hook up. Twice. He says they may have used a condom the first time but not the second. He was drunk too.”

“That’s bad.”

He shakes his head. “It’s definitely not good. You know, he’s gotten at least two other girls pregnant.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“He’s not at all careful.”

I start to text Katie then put my phone down on the bed. “I can’t tell her this over a text.”

He studies my face for a second. “Tell her we’re heading there.”

“You are seriously the sweetest boy I have ever met,” I tell him as we’re packing up.

He sets his bag on the bed and pulls me into his arms. “I love you. And she’s your friend. You need to be there for her.”

“I know, but a lot of guys would say it’s her problem and to stay in bed with them.”

“Oh, trust me, I thought about it. But I know you won’t be able to stop worrying about her. And it’s not like we can’t come back here if we want. Or go to my room.”



On the short drive back to school, I text Katie.



Me: Dawson and I are on our way.



Katie: OMG!! I look horrible!



Me: He won’t care.



Katie: We did, didn’t we?



Me: Yeah.



Dawson sits on Katie’s bed and tells her what he knows.

Katie starts bawling, so Dawson pulls her into a hug.

I sit on my bed with Annie and swoon. Is he seriously not the sweetest boy ever?

I look at Annie.

She looks shell-shocked and I can tell what’s going on in her mind.

She mutters, “I’m never, ever having sex in high school.”

I grab her hand. “You’ve been an awesome friend to Katie. Thank you for that.”

“I don’t know what to do. I have no experience with stuff like this. What do we do? Just wait and pray she’s not pregnant?”

“Um, no. Hell no. We need to get her that Plan B pill.”

“What’s that?”

“The morning after pill?”

“Oh, I’ve heard of that. I guess I never really knew what it was for.”

“Basically, if your birth control fails, you can take it. But I’m pretty sure you have to be eighteen to get it without a prescription.”

“So we have to tell someone?”

“That or she has to call her doctor for a prescription.”

“She’s not gonna wanna do that.”

“No, I wouldn’t think so. Do you think boys can get it?” I ask, looking at Dawson, my eighteen-year-old boyfriend.

“Let me look online,” Annie says as she taps away on her phone.

“What’s it say?”

“It says that she needs to take it right away. They say the sooner the better but there’s a 72-hour window. Some things I’m reading say 17, others say 18. So I’m not sure. But definitely anyone, boy or girl, can get it if they’re over 18.”

I go sit down next to Dawson and Katie. She’s calmed down some. “Okay, so the first thing we need to worry about is pregnancy. You need to take the Plan B pill. Like right away.”

“I’m not calling my doctor. He’s friends with my parents!”

“Well, if you were eighteen, you wouldn’t need a prescription but since . . .”

Dawson interrupts me. “I’m eighteen. I’ll go.”

Like I said, the sweetest boy ever. And if I wasn’t sure before, I am now.

I am in love with Dawson.

Katie gives me a huge hug, then starts crying again. “I feel so bad. So guilty. So slutty. So stupid.”

“It’ll be okay,” I say, praying that it will be.

Dawson grabs my hand. “Ride into town with me?”

As we’re walking back out to his car, I ask, “Shouldn’t we make Tyrese do this? Shouldn’t he have to take some responsibility? I feel like we should make him. But I don’t want to embarrass Katie by involving him.”

“Tyrese is a friend. He’s fun to party with, but he isn’t respectful of women. To him, they are all hoes. I know for a fact that he won’t help. He got a girl from the dance team pregnant last year. Hers was one of the spots you tried out for. We’re better off taking care of it ourselves.”





Monday, October 10th

Putting it out there.

7:55am



It’s the typical Monday morning after a big dance. Half the people who went together don't ever want to go out with that person again and the other half are all lovey-dovey.

Riley is clearly in the lovey half.

"I think I'm gonna ask Ariela to be my girlfriend. What do you think?"

"I think if you want to be exclusive, that's a good idea. Are you talking to anyone else?"

"No! I stopped talking to other girls when I started talking to her. Is she still talking to other guys?"

“Um, I think so."

"Who!?”

"Remember when you first asked her to hang out and she was still talking to a guy from home?”

“Yeah. Has she hung out with him?"

“No. But I know they still text each other."

“That kind of pisses me off."

"I don't think it should. Have you told her she's the only one you're talking to?"

"No."

"Then I don't think you can be mad. Just talk to her."

"Now I don't want to."

"Don't be a brat. You survived Homecoming and don't hate each other,"

"What Katie did to Dallas was pretty shitty.”

"Yeah, it was. How’s he doing?"

"Well, he was still talking to other girls. So he hung out with one of them last night. And one of them is a girl that's in your math class, so next period should be interesting. Do you think Mr. Miremadi would notice if I sat in there, just to watch the fireworks?"

“He never takes roll and none of us ever sit in the same seat. He probably wouldn't notice."

“He doesn’t in our class either, and I have math the following period anyway. If he says anything, I’ll say I got confused.”

“Let’s sit in the back. I want to try and stay out of that mess. I feel bad since I set them up."

"And then she took poor Dallas' virginity."

"I know. And now I'm afraid he's going to feel heartbroken and used."

Riley laughs out loud. The teacher gives him the evil eye and he tries to stop, but he can't.

"What's so funny?"

"Guys generally don't feel that way about sex. We’re not girls,” he whispers.



We have to stop talking while our history teacher gives his lecture. He stops a few minutes before the bell is due to ring and allows us to talk quietly.

Riley says, “Speaking of Homecoming. We made it through without any kind of incident.”

“I know. I’m feeling better about it. You’re right. It couldn’t have been him. No way he’d wait this long. You can stop sleeping on my floor.”

“Does that mean I get the rug?”

“We’ll see.”

The bell rings, so we gather up our stuff and file out of class. Riley follows me into math, where we take seats in the back.

Katie walks in later, but doesn’t seem to notice us. She sits up front next to Jordan, who she was sort of seeing before Homecoming. I suspect that she was nervous about seeing Dallas and sat next to the first friendly face she saw.

A few minutes later, Dallas strolls in with his arm wrapped around a girl. Not the casual my-arm-is-wrapped-around-her-shoulder but the tight-we-can’t-get-close-enough-around-the-waist version.

Our teacher isn't in the classroom yet. He usually wanders in with his third cup of coffee of the day right before the bell rings.

Dallas acts like he's totally into the girl. She giggles at him and even gives him a kiss before they sit down next to each other.

I glance at Katie. She’s pretending not to watch, but I can tell she is because there are tears shimmering in her eyes.

"I feel bad for Katie," I whisper to Riley.

"I think she deserves it."

"Tyrese took advantage of her."

"Maybe it will teach her a lesson. She’s always drunk. What does she expect? And when she's drunk, she's pretty forward. I didn't tell you this, but she was all over me one night. A girl who keeps putting it out there like that shouldn’t be surprised when someone takes her up on it.”

"Yeah, I guess that's true. She was really freaked out yesterday though.”

"Dawson told me."

"He was so sweet. Like, the way he helped her. I think I fell a little more in love with him."

"Weren't you already in love with him?"

"Yeah, but I don't doubt my feelings anymore."

"So, what should we do about those two? Think it will just blow over?”

"I'm not sure. I think I’ll text her.



Me: You doing okay? He's just trying to hurt you because you hurt him.



Katie: I know. Where are you?



Me: Me and Riley are way in the back. I didn't want to look like I was taking sides. Riley was hoping for fireworks.



Katie: Maybe I should give him some.



Me: Katie, don't. It won't help. Jordan looked like he was being nice to you.



Katie: So I shouldn't yell at Dallas that he sucked in bed?



Me: Did he?



Katie: No. He was sweet. It reminded me of my old boyfriend. A little awkward, but sweet. Like he didn't seem very experienced.



I show Riley her text. "Should I tell her?"

He nods his head yes.



Me: You were his first. He's been with other girls and done stuff, but he was waiting to do it with someone special.



Katie: He thought I was special?



Me: Yeah.



Katie: F*ck my life.



Thrown under the bus.

Lunch



Dawson is being adorable and feeding me pieces of a juicy orange.

I guess Riley’s not the only one in the lovey-dovey half. I feel blissfully happy.

“You’re so cute,” I whisper to him as Rachel and the minions set their trays on the lunch table.

“You need to take your trays and go sit somewhere else,” Whitney says to them. “You're not welcome here anymore. You’re not going to talk shit about me and then sit at my table.”

Rachel stands there frozen. She’s not sure what to do.

“Wait. Why do we have to leave?” Minion #1 says. “It’s not our fault Rachel’s a bad friend.”

Rachel looks at her in disbelief. She can’t believe she’s being thrown under the bus.

“Who did you vote for?” Whitney asks the girl.

“You,” Minion #1 says.

“And you?” Whitney asks Minion #2.

She glances at Rachel, gives her sorry eyes, then looks straight at Whitney and lies through her teeth. “You, of course.”

Whitney nods at her, like a Queen does to barely acknowledge people.

“And what about you?” she asks Minion #3.

Minion #3 hangs her head and whispers, “Peyton.”

I have a new respect for Minion #3. You gotta give the girl credit for telling the truth.

Whitney has a fiery look in her eye.

“Aren’t you going to ask me why?” the girl asks in an innocent voice.

Whitney plays along. “Why?”

“Because Rachel told me to.”

Or not.

Wow. This table is like a snake pit.

“The three of you may stay at the table,” Whitney announces. “Rachel, you can go now.”

Rachel looks at the minions for support. Any kind of support.

None of them will even make eye contact.

So she turns to Peyton.

Peyton glances at Whitney. A silent agreement passes between their eyes. Probably the secret threat.

Rachel says to Peyton, “I voted for you. Do you want me to leave? Whitney doesn’t own this table.”

Peyton takes a deep breath and sits up straighter. “She doesn’t own this table, but you shouldn't have talked trash about her. Friends don't do that to each other.” Then she puts on her bitch face and says, “Bye.”

Rachel is desperate. She points at me and says, “So Keatyn, the girl we all hate, gets to stay? But I have to go?”

“Yes,” Whitney says coolly. “That should be a good indication of my disappointment in you.”

The minions don’t dare look up. They are staring down at their lunches, but not moving to eat them.

“You are the biggest bitch,” Rachel says.

“Better than being a backstabber,” Whitney replies flatly.

Rachel balls up her fists and goes, “Ohhh.” Then she looks at the other girls and says, “We don’t want to sit here anyway. Let’s go.”

The girls don’t move.

They know better.

The girls give Rachel a little headshake, letting her know they have no intention of going anywhere.

Rachel leaves her tray on the table and runs out of the lunchroom crying.

I think about going after her. Telling her that Whitney’s acceptance shouldn’t matter. The only thing that should matter is what you think of yourself.

But since she called me Keatyn, the girl we all hate, I’m thinking I’m not the best person to deliver that message.



Follow my script.

Drama



During drama class, our teacher goes over the rehearsal schedule.

“We want a great production, so we expect everyone to attend all rehearsals. If, for some reason, you feel you cannot meet this schedule, please let me know today and we will recast your part. Tonight, we’ll have costume fittings for anyone who will be on stage. The rest of you will be painting sets, so dress accordingly. Normally, Mondays will be our day off. This week, we’ll practice Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday evenings. Then you get this weekend off, as we’re hosting the district Choir Competition. Here’s the calendar.”



While I’m walking from drama to the field house for soccer, I call my mom, hoping I’ll get lucky and catch her during lunch break.

“Hey, honey! How are you?”

“I’m good. Just on my way to soccer practice. Is everything okay there?”

“Yes, it’s good. Although Tommy filmed some stunt scenes and is pretty banged up. Bruised a couple ribs.”

“He needs to stop doing so many of his own stunts.”

“I have recommended that, but you know how stubborn he is. He doesn’t want to hear it. Although, we’re off this weekend and he did say all he wants to do is lie on the couch, watch football, and spend time with the girls.”

“That sounds like a great weekend.”

“I think so too. Hey, so we hired that Allan guy.”

“For the movie?”

“Actually, no. To be our driver. Garrett wanted us to stop having one of the guards do double duty. Garrett is sending him to a special driving school. He starts in a couple weeks.”

“Is he excited?”

“Thrilled. He seems like a really nice guy. He told Tommy about a particular car chase through Manhattan. I’m so thankful you ended up in his car.”

“Me too.”

“Hey, Gracie is here with me today. Would you like to talk to her?”

“Oh my gosh, yes!”

I hear Mom move about. Then some clunking around of the phone.

“Kiki! Kiki! Kiki!”

“Hi, Gracie! How are you?”

“I want to be on TV but Mommy won’t let me.”

“What do you want to do on TV?”

“Wear makeup.”

“Just wear makeup?”

“Sing too.”

“Are you being a good girl?”

“I got new pink glitter shoes because I’m a good girl.”

“I bet they are really pretty,” I say as the bell rings. “I have to go, Gracie. I love you.”

“Gracie loves Good Kiki too.”

“I’m Good Kiki?”

“Yes. You are my Good Kiki and puppy Kiki is Bad Kiki.”

I laugh as I hear Mom take the phone from her. “She wants to be on TV. She’s been acting out shows in front of the television. It’s hysterical because she tries to play every single part in the movie.”

“I bet that’s cute.”

“It is and she’s surprisingly good. She memorizes the lines and plays everyone. She reminds me of you.”

“I have to get to class, Mom. I love you guys.”

“We love you too. Take care of yourself.”



I hang up the phone and want to cry. I want to see them so badly.

An idea pops in my head. Mom said they were going to be home all weekend.

And I’m off this weekend.

I know what I’m going to do!

I’m going to Vancouver.

And, I’m going to ask Dawson to come with me.

I’m crazy about him and I feel so bad that I’ve lied to him about things.

And I don’t want to lie anymore.

I want to tell him the truth.

He’s been so amazing. He was patient with me. Gave me the key to his heart. Ditched Whitney’s weekend. Asked me to Homecoming in front of everyone. And then yesterday, he was so sweet to Katie.

And never once has he tried to change me. He loves me just the way I am.

So I’m going to do it.

I’ll use my fractional jet membership to get a private flight there.

On the plane, I’ll tell him the truth.

My real name. About the stalker. About my parents.

All of it.

He’ll be surprised. Shocked, probably. And maybe a little mad at first.

But it will be fine.

He will understand. We’ll kiss.

It will do nothing but strengthen our bond.

And then he’ll meet my family.

My mom will understand why I first called him Gorgeous.

He and Tommy will bond over football.

My little sisters will love him.

And best of all, since no one knows I’m coming, Vincent will have no way of knowing that I’m there.

We won’t leave the house all weekend, so I won’t have to worry about being followed back to school.

For once, my life is going to follow my script.

And I can’t wait!



A mutual attacking.

5:40pm



“Dawson, since we don’t have a football game Friday and this will be my only weekend off from play practice for a while, I think we should go away.”

He kisses up my stomach then looks at me with a pleased grin. “We going back to the love shack?”

“Are you referring to my gorgeous, expansive New York City loft as the love shack?”

“Yes, I am. And I am definitely up for another weekend of sin.” He pushes his hips into mine and laughs. “Get it? I’m up for it.”

“Yes, I get that you are perpetually horny. However, I want to go somewhere else because . . .”

Dawson kisses my chest and moves his hand up my thigh.

I let out a contented little sigh.

When he leans his hips into mine again, I decide we can discuss this later. I clutch his back, raise my hips toward his, and start pushing off his shorts.



Afterward, I'm getting dressed. I don't feel like putting my school uniform back on, so I steal a pair of his sweats.

He grabs me and pulls me back on the bed.

“Aren't you ruled by your stomach? It’s almost six.”

“I think I'm ruled by you. I'm pretty sure I could go without food, but I can’t go with out you.”

“We've done it, like, every day.”

“I know, it’s awesome. I love you.”

“You love sleeping with me.”

“That hardly qualifies as sleeping, Keatie. That was f—”

I interrupt him. “Don't say it.”

“You seem weird tonight. Is it because of what happened with Katie? You know I’m not anything like him.”

“I know you’re not. You’re adorable.” I kiss his cheek sweetly. “I was trying to talk about going away this weekend when you attacked me.”

“I attacked you? You attacked me!” He holds his hands up like he’s being arrested. “I swear, I just wanted to kiss. You were the one that pulled off my shorts!”

I laugh and give him a kiss. “Fine. It was a mutual attacking. So, I was wondering if maybe you’d like to meet my family. They’re going to be in Vancouver this weekend and I just thought . . .”

He runs his hand across my cheek. “Keatie, I’d love to meet your family.”

“Really? That makes me happy.”

“Making you happy is my favorite thing to do,” he says adorably.

I give him a deep kiss and say, “I love you, Dawson. I really do.”

“Good. Now let’s go eat.”



Girls love it.

7pm



After dinner, I head to the auditorium for my costume fittings. I have four different outfits to wear in the play, which means I’ll get called four different times.

Aiden agreed to meet me here for tutoring and I find him sitting in the back row.

I pull a little present out of my bag. It looks so cute. I took white paper and stamped black Eiffel Towers all over it and then tied it with a pink and black striped ribbon.

“What’s this?” he asks when I hand it to him.

“It’s sort of to congratulate you for applying yourself in French. I ordered it after you passed your first test and it just came in. Open it.”

He tilts his head and eyes me. “It’s not going to explode or anything, is it?”

“Very funny.”

He pulls the ribbon off the package, rips the paper off, and reads the book’s cover. “Dirty French: Everyday Slang from What's Up? To F--- Off. Very nice.” He flips through the pages and nods his head. “I can see that this will come in quite handy.”

“What do you mean by that?”

He holds open a page that lists numerous ways to ask for sex in French.

“You’re not supposed to use it to get girls to sleep with you,” I huff. “I didn’t even know all that was in there. I got it because that day in class . . .” Shit. Now I feel stupid for getting it for him. I thought he’d get a kick out of it, not use it to pick up girls.

He touches my arm and finishes my sentence. “When we were talking about cussing in French. I love it. Thank you.”Keatyn Monroe.

“Shoot, I have to go try on my first costume. Here’s my homework, if you want to work on it. I shouldn’t be too long. Are you sure you have time to wait?”

“I’m sure,” he says. “I’ll start working.”



After I finish the first fitting, I sit back down next to Aiden. His head is down and he’s writing in his French workbook. He’s taken his school blazer off and has rolled up his oxford’s long sleeves.

The four-leaf clover he showed me before the Homecoming game is still on his forearm.

I touch it and say, “Won’t come off, huh?”

“I haven’t tried to get it off. I’m hoping it will help me get lucky.”

I rip my French notebook away from him. I didn’t mean to pull it away quite so hard but the thought of him using my four-leaf clover to get lucky with a girl pisses me off for some reason.

I look at him with disgust.

“Figures you’d twist its use for something like that.”

He gives me a little smirk. “Between the lucky four-leaf clover and this dirty French book, I should be set. Girls love it when you speak to them in French. They think it’s such a sexy language.”

“French is a sexy language when you don’t butcher it.”

“Most girls don’t know any better. Why do you think I took French to begin with?”

“That’s why?” I am appalled.

He chuckles at me. “It is.”

“Give me the book back,” I say, holding out my hand.

“Nope. In fact, I learned a couple things while you were gone.

“And what’s that?”

“Rouler des pelles.”

“French kissing?”

“Yeah, isn’t that kind of funny? They don’t call it French. And the word for kiss is baiser.”

“That’s because it’s slang. Translated literally it means rolling shovels. Open your mouth.”

He looks at me funny, but complies.

I laugh. “So you do have a tongue.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know. I’m just surprised that you chose French kissing as your first slang word when you don’t do it.”

“I French kiss. I just didn’t kiss you like that. What’s the got to do with rolling shovels?”

I stick my tongue out at him. “See the shape?” I draw the outline of my tongue with my finger.

“I guess it is sort of shaped like a shovel.”

I make my tongue do a version of the wave. Rolling it up and down.

“You have a talented tongue,” he says with a laugh.

“You have no idea,” I say with a smirk. I’m going to add, And you’ll never find out, but I’m interrupted.

Keatyn Monroe.

“I have to go.”