"How'd you know that?"
"I described you to the coffee shop dude. He told me."
"Thanks. You're very resourceful."
"I'm very horny, actually."
“Down, boy. We have to go to class. And I have to hurry; your brother needs to copy my worksheet."
They’re Gucci.
Lunch
I’m in line to get a salad and I’m watching Whitney. She gives Dawson a little smirk, wraps her arms around Jake’s neck, and gives him a perfunctory kiss on the cheek.
The salad bar is close enough for me to hear their conversation.
Dawson says to Jake and Whitney, "So, did you guys have a good weekend together?"
Jake replies, "Naw, she had to do some family thing."
Whitney proudly proclaims, “The family thing was an amazing weekend at our new home in Palm Beach.”
Dawson ignores her. "Oh, that's too bad. Jake, you should have come up to the Hamptons. We partied, chilled."
Whitney counters with, “The Hamptons are so overrated. Palm Beach is really—”
Ace interrupts her and says to Jake, "And Keatyn taught me to surf. I actually stood up and rode all the way in for the first time ever!"
I see Whitney’s eye get big when she hears I was there. She is already pissed enough that everyone is ignoring her.
Of course, they can’t tell. She looks perfect.
Tyrese says, "Yeah, she's a really good surfer. And looks damn fine in a bikini, dawg." He bumps fists Dawson.
Dawson notices me moving toward the table. "Speaking of damn fine." He stands up, grabs my tray and backpack, and helps me get settled into the seat next to him.
Riley and Dallas walk by, wave, and go sit with some other friends. I glance at Whitney and know that I just moved to the top of her hit list. The telltale crinkle is deepening.
Tyrese says to me, "I'm really digging those boots."
"Thanks, Tyrese. You had a pretty good weekend yourself. Girls surrounding you on the beach, begging for your body."
He puffs his chest out a little and sits up straighter. “Yeah, baby, Tyrese sealed the deal a couple nights, out there in the sand with Dawson's cousin."
Dawson’s eyes get big. Then he's like, "Dude, all my cousins are guys."
“Oh, damn. I'm just playing. It was some girl that was staying up the beach. I don't even remember her name."
"It was Laney,” I say, rolling my eyes.
He snaps. “That’s it. And what about you, Little Miss Kiki? You and Dawes had some fun yourselves."
I know he's trying to bring up my sex life, but I won't comment on that. "We did. The house was gorgeous, the waves were great, and the Kool-Aid was potent."
"Aw, yeah,” Ace says. “The get-drunk-and-screw punch. Heard it worked on you."
I know Dawson didn’t tell. I'm pretty sure he's baiting me. Fishing. Interviewers always try and do that to my mom. Act like they know something they don't. Trying to get her to confirm if the fact that she wore a lose fitting top one day means she's pregnant again.
"You're right, Ace. I did get a little drunk one night."
Tyrese says, "And then snuck off to the bedroom with Dawesy here."
Dawson, who has been pretty quiet through all this, says, "That's enough."
And Tyrese surprisingly complies.
Not only has he been walking me to all my classes, he just stood up for me to his friend. I think I'm in love.
Okay, probably not love. More like very serious lust.
Whitney says, “Remember all the fun times we had in your room at the beach house, Dawes?”
Jake looks at her, like What the hell, and so does Dawson. It was a totally inappropriate comment.
I give Dawson’s hand a little squeeze and say to Whitney, “Someone else was in Dawson’s room this weekend. We stayed in the master bedroom.”
Whitney glares at me, not even trying to hide her hatred.
But I don’t care because Dawson gives me the sexiest grin. I can tell he is remembering exactly what happened in the bedroom. He says, “Let's go eat outside, Keatie."
Whitney blinks her eyes hard when she hears him call me Keatie.
As we walk away, I hear Whitney comment to the table, “Those boots are slutty.”
I know she’s the Queen. I know I shouldn’t do this, but I’m not letting her get away with slamming me. She knows I heard. She thinks I don’t have the balls to turn around and call her on it.
But guess what? I do.
But I’m not going to turn it into a fight. I’m going to pretend it wasn’t a slam. I’m going to kill her with kindness.
I turn around, smile big, and point down at my boots. “Oh, Whitney, honey, we really need to work on your designers. These boots aren’t Slutty, they’re Gucci.”
Her face turns a bright shade of pink and even Peyton snickers.
Been drinking the Kool-Aid?
French
I go to French class with bolstered confidence. I’m going to have no problem tutoring Aiden, and I’m going to have no problem resisting him.
He will soon be learning that I’m now immune to his powers.
Or not.
I walk into class, and he’s already in his seat. He gives me that blinding smile and, I swear to God, he just spoke to my soul.