Date Me (The Keatyn Chronicles)

Wednesday, October 12th

Never wearing plaid again.

10am



Peyton grabs me after math class and holds up a note. “What’s that?”

“It’s a pass. You, me, and Whitney are going on a field trip.”

“A field trip with Whitney? Why?”

“We need to go to the party rental company’s warehouse and look at props for Greek weekend. The drama department has a few columns, but they are too busy with the play to do anything custom for us. The art department is going to do some large canvas pencil drawings of classic statutes. Their teacher is giving them extra credit for it, so we should have that to line the walls of the banquet, but we need more.”

“That sounds fun.”

“Good. Now go change out of your uniform into something cute. I’m not wearing this plaid skirt in public.”

“Oh, really? I just got a cute dress that I ordered online. I’m excited to wear it.”

“What’s it like?”

“It’s a Thakoon mini. It has the cutest quilted leather sleeveless top and then a plaid straight skirt on the bottom. I’ll probably wear it with a pair of black Burberry riding boots.”

“The bottom is plaid?” Peyton asks, scrunching up her nose. “Don’t you get sick of plaid? I swear, when I leave here I’m never wearing plaid again.”

“I guess I haven’t been here long enough to be sick of it.”

“Fine, so go change and meet us outside your dorm in ten minutes.”



We go to the rental store and find a few more props.

“So, we headed back to school now?” I ask.

Whitney turns to look at me sitting in the backseat of Peyton’s car. “We are going to the spa.”

“But won’t we get in trouble?”

“The spa is decorated with columns and has a Romanesque feel to it. We’ll be immersing ourselves in the culture and brainstorming. It’s strictly business,” Peyton says with a laugh.

I laugh when we get to the spa. It has a total of two columns that flank the entrance to the hot tub. I look over a menu and sign up for a lavender bath. That’s one thing I really miss from home. My bathtub. I soaked it in all the time to relax. My loft has a great bathtub, but I’ve yet to take a bath in it because Dawson prefers showers.

“We’re getting massages and spa pedicures together,” Peyton tells us. “I already booked those.”

I nod even though I don’t need a pedicure, since I just got one right before the dance. I don’t want to rock the boat. Since Homecoming, things seem strained between Peyton and Whitney.

But, since they banished Rachel, Whitney’s down a minion.

I just hoping she’s not looking for a replacement.

No one really talks during the massages, which is fine with me.

Then I get to go soak in a fragrant bath for almost an hour.

I ask one of the spa helpers, who I could tell didn’t speak much English, for a glass of white wine.

Needless to say, she did not ask me for ID, since I was naked in the tub, and I was thrilled when she walked back in with a glass of chilled Chardonnay.

I lean back in the tub, take a sip, and totally relax.

I’m not sure what I think of Whitney, but her idea of coming here was perfection.



After my bath, I throw on my robe and meet the girls for our pedicures.

Whitney politely asks, “How was your bath?”

“It was amazing. They really need to install bathtubs at school.”

She laughs. “I totally agree. So, Keatyn, Peyton seems to think you and I should get to know each other better. That was the whole point of today’s little outing.”

I smile at Peyton. She wears a pained expression, which lets me know for sure that this was not her idea at all. She’s trying to pull away from Whitney, not get closer. I have a sneaking suspicion that this is one of those keep-your-friends-close-and-your-enemies-closer kind of thing. Even though I was nice to her at Homecoming and appreciate her being civil, I doubt we’ll ever be BFFs.

But, then again, maybe I should be nice and give her a chance.

“I’d like that,” I say to Whitney. “Tell me about yourself.”

“Well, you already know that I’m Dawson’s ex and pretty much everyone at school loves me.”

“Loves you or fears you?”

“Same difference,” Whitney replies haughtily, with a wave of her hand. “And, let’s face it, even you like sitting at my table.”

Peyton rolls her eyes but doesn’t contradict her.

“I like sitting with Dawson.”

“Whatever. So, I think you know enough about me. I’m sure you made Dawson tell you all about us.”

“Most of what he told me wasn’t very happy. You hurt him. It hurts to have your heart broken.”

“He told you that I broke his heart?”

“Yeah, he did. We talked about you at the Cave one night.”

“Was that the night he was trying to make me jealous by flirting with you?”

“It was the next night after the dance. Everyone else was partying at Hawthorne, but we both ended up at the Cave. He told me he couldn’t be your friend.”

She scrunches up her nose. “Interesting. So that’s how you got together. Did you sleep with him that night?”

I let out a loud laugh. “Not even close. He kissed me once and that was only to prove to me that he wasn’t a bad kisser.”

“Dawson is an amazing kisser.”

“Well, not when he’s drunk and you’re not expecting it.”

Peyton laughs. “I remember that. He stood up, which knocked Mariah off his lap, and walked straight across the room and kissed you. I actually thought it was kind of romantic.”

“Trying to make your ex-girlfriend jealous is not romantic,” Whitney and I both say at the exact same time.

We look at each other and laugh. “So, you lived in L.A. What do you think of Connecticut?”

“It’s definitely different here. But I like it.”

“Does that mean we’re not getting rid of you anytime soon?”

I chuckle. Gosh, she reminds me of Vanessa. It almost makes me like her. You have to appreciate that kind of confidence. “Afraid not.”

Peyton smiles at me and touches my arm. “I’m glad you’re staying. I know we’re going to be good friends. Especially since we’re in so much together. Dance Team, Soccer, Literary Club, and Student Council.”

I study Peyton. She seems sincere, but I get the feeling she’s listing all her activities for Whitney’s benefit. She didn’t mention Social Committee. She’s trying to make Whitney feel left out.”

“Don’t forget Social Committee,” I tell Peyton.

“Oh, yeah, I forgot about that.”

Whitney glares at her. “Kind of hard to forget about it when that’s why we’re here.”

“Are you feeling inspired for Greek weekend yet?” I laugh, trying to dissolve the tension.

“No, but I really want to go there now.”

“Have you been there, Keatyn? I hear its coastline is very different from the French Riviera where your parents live.”

Her comment makes me pause. How does she know where my parents live? I’ve never been that specific.

Then it hits me.

The school file. It had my parents’ fake address in it.

“I have been to Greece, and you’re right, Whitney, is does look different.”

“So, you’ve traveled a lot?” Peyton asks me.

“Yes, quite a lot. I was homeschooled for most of my life because of my mom’s job.”

“Oh, really?” Whitney asks. “What does your mom do?”

“She’s retired now but, before that, she worked in oil and gas.” Oh my gosh. Where do these lies come from?

It’s really kind of sad how good I’m getting at lying.

Whitney laughs, “She retired when she hit the lottery?”

I sigh. Just when I was thinking Whitney wasn’t half bad, she reminds me what a bitch she is. “Yeah, something like that,” I mutter.



After letting our toes dry completely in the sauna, we decide it’s time to head back to school. Whitney wants to get back in time to have dinner with Jake, and I haven’t seen Dawson all day.

The three of us are standing at the counter to check out. For some reason, they put all of our charges together rather than separating them.

I get my credit card out of my bag and toss it onto the counter at the same time Whitney does the same with hers.

We both say, “I’ll get it.”

Whitney looks at me then down at our cards. My black one next to her platinum one.

I could give a crap what color anyone’s credit card is, but obviously Whitney cares.

She gives me a puzzled look.

I shrug my shoulder, give her a smirk, and don’t hide the sarcasm in my voice when I say, “Lottery.”





A silly waste of time.

7:50pm



I float into rehearsal feeling relaxed.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Aiden says when he sits down next to me.

“About what?”

“About being your arm candy. If you need arm candy, I’ll be there.”

I can’t stop from smiling. “Thank you.”

“You like getting your way, don’t you?”

“Um, yeah. Who doesn’t?”

He laughs at me and then says, “You also need to finish telling me about that script you wrote. When did you write it?”

“I spent most of last summer in Europe and I had a lot of free time. The script is about a girl who makes a wish.”

“Like, one of those movies where two people make the same wish at the same time and when they wake up they’ve switched bodies?”

“No. It’s more like her wish sets other events in motion. Events that make her think she’s on the verge of having everything she’s ever dreamed of. But then it all comes crashing down.”

“How so?”

“She finally gets the boy she wanted. Some guy offers her the lead role in a movie. It seems like her life is getting perfect, but it's not. The boy is selfish and doesn't really love her. And the guy that wants to make the movie with her is, um . . .”

“Sleazy?”

“Yeah, he's sleazy. So is the boy who really doesn’t love her moves away. She decides to move away too. Like, for a fresh start.”

“And then what? Wait, let me guess. When she moves away, she meets a guy? The dream guy she should really be with?”

“I’m not sure. I haven't finished it yet. I stopped writing when I came here.”

“Why?”

“Sometimes it seems like a silly waste of time.”

“That sounds like something someone told you, not what you feel.”

“The boy who moved away. When they were together, sometimes he’d catch her writing. He kind of thought it was dumb.”

“Wait. Are we talking about the script or your real life?”

“The script. I think I’m going to make her parents be famous. Maybe actors themselves. Or screenwriters, or directors. I haven’t figured that part out yet, exactly, but I do know that she’s going to be afraid to follow in their footsteps.”

“I could relate to that. My dad used to talk about me taking over his business. It was all about investments and it seemed really boring. I’ve liked being outside since I was a kid and when we moved to Napa, I felt like I was home. I could ride my horse, play in the dirt, kick a soccer ball around all day and not come in until it was dark. And then I fell in love with the whole growing process. I love the lifestyle. It fits me. Now, if my dad leaves me the Napa place, I will happily take it over. And in the meantime, I want to make a wine for charity.”

“The wine you want to make will be for charity?”

“Yeah, like all the profits will go to good causes. Like, cancer research, maybe. Helping the homeless.”

I study Aiden for a moment. The god continues to surprise me. “That’d be really cool,” I tell him.

Because it would be.



I pull my phone out of my bag and check my texts. I have one from Braxton.



Braxton: Magically delicious got me a date.



Me: Really? A date?



Braxton: Okay, not a date. She’s coming over to help me study. Tonight. In like five minutes. I’m a little nervous.



Me: Why?



Braxton: She’s seventeen. And slutty.



Me: I thought you were grounded. And do you really want a slutty girl?



Braxton: I got the grounding lifted with my exemplary behavior at Homecoming. And I can’t decide.



Me: I think you should find a nice girl your own age. Don’t rush it. Kiss. Enjoy it. Seriously, kissing is my all-time favorite thing. The more you practice, the better you are at it. I think you should focus on that. Not sex.



Braxton: We’ll see. Got any new lines?



Me: Yes. “Have you always been so cute? Or did it take practice?”



Braxton: That’s kind of lame.



Me: Not as lame as Riley’s was. His was “I grind so fine, I’m practically coffee.”



Braxton: That one is AWESOME!! I’m totally using that.



Me: NO! You want to make it all about the girl. Riley’s made him sound like an arrogant jerk. Dallas’ made me laugh. I think that’s the key to a successful pickup line. When you make a girl laugh, you break the ice, and lower her guard. You seem like you would be fun to hang out with. Are there some cute girls in your classes?



Braxton: There’s one that’s really pretty. She’s almost as tall as me. Long dark hair. Big brown eyes with the longest eyelashes ever. I heard she’s going to Eastbrooke’s Prospective Student Weekend.



Me: You should ask her on a date. Take her to a movie. Buy her popcorn. Hold her hand. Kiss her goodnight.



Braxton: I’ll think about it.





Thursday, October 13th

Revoked.

Lunch



Tyrese decides to grace our table with his presence today.

I start to get up when he sits down. “I’m not sitting next to him,” I tell Dawson when he grabs my arm.

“Stay. I’ll tell him to leave.” He turns to Tyrese. “What you did to Keatyn’s friend was not cool.”

Tyrese holds up his hands. “She was all over me, bro. What else was I going to do? I was drunk.”

“Why don’t you go sit somewhere else. You haven’t sat here most of the year anyway.”

Tyrese looks at him, like he can’t believe Dawson chose me over his friend. “If that’s the way you want it,” he says, picking up his tray and walking away.

Minion #2 says directly to Whitney, “What the hell is going on here?”

Minion #3 agrees. “That’s what I’d like to know. Yesterday, you and Peyton take Keatyn with you to the spa instead of us.”

“You’re not on Social Committee,” Whitney says.

“And now, today, the tramp is in charge of our seating arrangements?”

My eyes widen in shock. “Are you calling me a tramp?”

Minion #2 puffs her chest out. “Yes, I am.”

“Then you should go with sit with Tyrese,” I tell her flatly. I’m not going to get all pissed off. It’s what she wants.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’ve been sitting at this table for the past . . .”

Peyton interrupts and shakes a finger at them. “You’ve been sitting at this table for the past two years because Whitney and I allowed you to. That status has been revoked. Effective immediately. Why don’t you take your jealous little selves and go sit with Rachel.”

They both stare at Peyton in confusion. Like she spoke to them in a different language.

“Both of you, go,” Peyton says. Then she looks at Minion #1.

Minion #1 doesn’t even give her the chance to speak. “I don’t think Keatyn is a tramp. I think she’s very nice.”

Her two friends stomp their way over to sit with Rachel at the end of a table full of awkward sophomore boys.

Jake laughs. “They’re dropping like flies. Pretty soon it’ll be just me and you, Monroe.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Whitney says with an air of superiority.

“I’m just teasing, baby,” he replies.



All hot and sweaty.

6:50pm



After dinner, Dawson walks me to rehearsal and kisses me up against the side of the building.

“You know, you could come sit inside with me. I’m only up on stage when my scenes are up. The whole rest of the time I’m just sitting around doing homework.”

“A bunch of guys are having a pickup basketball game tonight. You could skip and come watch. I’ll be all hot and sweaty.” He leans down and kisses up my neck. “Or you could just come to my room and get me all hot and sweaty yourself.”

“Hmmm, I’m pretty sure I got you all hot and sweaty before dinner.”

He runs his fingers through my hair and kisses my cheek. “You own me. You know that, right? Totally and completely own me.”

“You’re my sex slave,” I tease.

“I could skip the game. We could lie around naked in my room for the next three hours.”

“We couldn’t lie in your room for three hours naked and you know it. We’d get caught.”

“Hmm, maybe. So this weekend, when we visit your parents. Are we going to have some time alone?”

“After we put them to bed, I’m sure I’ll be sneaking you into my room. Then you can have me naked all night long.”

My phone beeps. “Shit, Dawson, it’s after seven. I’m supposed to be in there!”

I start to pull away from him, but he pulls me back in for one more long, steamy kiss.

“I love you,” he tells me, then holds the door to the auditorium open for me.



I run into the auditorium, set my bag down, and am immediately called onto the stage.

I do a scene where all the bachelorettes are getting ready for the contest together. In this scene, the audience sees the true personality of each contestant. The contestants are pretty clichéd. The sweet girl (me), the slutty girl, the stuck up debutante, and the girl from the wrong side of the tracks. I nail my lines, not having to refer to my script once.

Then I walk off the stage and look for Aiden so we can do our French homework.

He’s in his usual spot in the back.

When I sit down next to him he says, “So, I’m doing a survey for health class. I’m going to need you to answer a few questions for me.”

“About what?”

He leans close to me. Does that thing where he lets his lips just barely touch my ear and says in French, “Sexe.”

I pull away and roll my eyes at him. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

He rubs his hand across his seemingly perpetual stubble. “Of course, all your answers will be kept in confidence.”

“Do you ever shave anymore?”

He leans back toward me and rubs his stubble up the side of my face. It’s a total Cush move. One that makes me smile remembering how I told him I had Cushburn. Aiden misinterprets my smile as confirmation that I like what he just did.

“Girls say they love stubble. For specific reasons,” he says with all sorts of swagger and confidence in his voice, leaving me no doubt that’s exactly what girls have been telling him. And probably why he hasn’t shaved.

I pull my hair behind my ear, fully exposing my cheek. “Is my cheek red?”

He studies it for a second, then replies, “No.”

“That’s because you have a baby face with soft stubble. It does make you look older, though.” And hotter too, if that’s even possible, but I don’t tell him that. “Girls like rough stubble.” I give him a smirk and then add, “For those specific reasons.”

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Kind of like my mom does when she’s about ready to lose it and is trying not to.

“So, let’s start with the questions. How old were you when you lost your virginity?”

“Wow. That’s kind of personal.”

“The questions are about sex. They’re all personal.”

“I was sixteen. How old were you?”

“I’m not answering the survey.”

“Neither am I, if you don’t answer my question.”

He sighs again. “I was fifteen, if you must know. Next question. How long had you been dating the guy you lost your virginity to?”

“Uh.” I think back. I dated Cush for, what was it, a day? I can’t answer that question. I’d sound like a slut. “No comment.”

He tilts his head at me. “That’s not an answer.”

I grab his little notebook, write No Comment on it, and hand it back to him. “It is now.”

“How long?” he asks again sternly.

“I didn’t expect to do it with him, okay? It just kind of happened.”

“Kind of happened?”

“Yes. It was spontaneous.”

“So it was just a hookup?’

I scowl at him. “No, it wasn’t just a hookup.”

“You’re used to getting what you want when you want it.”

“No! I don’t get what I want.” I put on my pout face. Just so he knows that I’m serious about it.

Aiden flicks my pouty bottom lip with his finger. “Come on. Look at you. You flash that little pout and boys fall at your feet.”

“They do not!”

“Okay, how long did you date Dawson before you had sex?”

“One. That is not one of your questions. And, two. It’s none of your business.”

“Fine. How about the Keats guy?”

“That one I will answer. I knew him for almost two years before we did.”

“That wasn’t the question. Once you got together, how long did you wait?”

Shit. He made me wait. All of about 8 days.

“Eight days.”

“And the virginity friend?”

“That doesn’t matter. I dated a guy for a year and a half before him and we never did it!”

“Was he gay?”

Shit! How the hell did he guess that? Has the stubble on his face added to his power? Has he mastered mind reading?

I try to clear my mind of all thoughts.

He grins at me. “I can tell by your face the answer is yes.”

“No, he just wanted to wait until he was married.”

“Bullshit.”

“Fine. He may have been gay but I didn't know it.”

Aiden bumps my elbow with his. “I bet that drove you nuts. Did you try and get him to?”

“Yes. And it sucked. Being turned down after a year of dating someone sucks.”

“What did you do to try and seduce him?”

“Lingerie.”

Aiden leans his chin on his hand on top of the armrest separating us. “What did it look like?”

I push his elbow off the armrest, completely catching him off guard and causing his chin to drop down.

Cheerleader Bachelorette. Bad Prince. You’re up.

I give him a smirk, set my homework on the floor, and go up on stage.