Kiss Me (The Keatyn Chronicles, #2)

“Yeah?”


“I don’t want to know anymore. Unless it has to do with my family. I don’t want to know. You were right, weren’t you? I’m never going to be able to go back home.”

“I’ve studied a lot of stalking cases, Keatyn. They don’t usually end well for the person being stalked. It doesn’t help that stalking is extremely hard to prove. Until they commit an actual crime, there is usually nothing that can be done. It’s even hard to get a restraining order, as you well know. It was really brilliant of Vincent to become friends with you. It makes all his stories for why he was around you seem plausible. You invited him to your party. He was trying to help you in the scuffle. You’d been drinking. You misunderstood what he said.”

“It was embarrassing when the police breathalyzed me. When they took my statement, I was hysterical. And I threw up twice.”

“I know. It also didn’t help that you were well over the legal limit and he was stone-cold sober. Even though James was on your side, he didn’t know you invited him to the party. But I did. My people were in charge of the guest list. That’s why I didn’t push too hard. I figured they would let him go, but I was quite shocked to hear the extent of your relationship.”

“I thought I had the world all figured out. I was going to become an actress and make a movie with Vincent. I was going to love Cush. How could I have been so wrong? I always thought I was good at reading people. Now I’m almost afraid to be friends with anyone.”

“Have you made friends there?”

“I think so, but I don’t really trust my judgment anymore. And, right now, I just feel very alone.”

“Let’s talk about something positive then.”

“Is there anything positive?”

“Yes. I finished the security on your loft. And I have to say, good job. It’s an amazing place. It’s warm and comfortable, yet gracious and grand. It’s just like you. I know you told me you were having a hard time figuring out who you are, but you need to stop thinking you have to be one way or another. You can be all of the things you are at the same time. Picture yourself as a gemstone. You have lots of facets. Someday, you’ll find a man who loves every one of those facets and, by then, some boy named Cush will only be a fond memory.”

“Thanks, Garrett. And I changed my mind. I do want to know. I need to know. Even if it sucks. So, those messages he was sending me. Were you able to track them?”

“No. He’s got something like we do that makes it difficult to trace. If we’d had more time, maybe, but I looked over what he said. There was nothing incriminating. He didn’t bite when you brought up the van.”

“Do you think I really pissed him of with what I said at the end?”

“I sure hope not.”





Friday, September 16th

Naughty ways.

7:40am



Riley says, “So what was up with you being late for curfew last night?”

I snap at him. “What’s going on is I’m up doing your history homework half the night while you snore away.”

My eyes fill with tears. I’m tired and frustrated. As of last night my being here stopped being a new adventure and started being my new life.

I still can’t believe I told Cush I loved him because of a pair of boots. A fucking pair of boots he didn’t even buy.

“Something’s wrong with you. Are you nervous about today?”

“For the away game?”

“No, they announce Student Council officers today. Like at the end of this class.”

“Oh, wow, I forgot about that.”

“You look tired. Were you really up that late? Are you upset about something?”

I want to tell him: Yes, I’m horrible. I want to throw myself into his arms and let him hug me.

When I don’t say anything, he wraps an arm around me. I put my face in his chest and let out a little sob.

“Don’t cry. If you don’t win, it’s no big deal. You’ll just have more time to hang out with me and Dallas. I think you’re gonna win. Not sure which office, but definitely win something. Dallas and I were doing some polling yesterday after we voted. It was looking good. Well, it was looking good until Dallas starting in on his new poll, which was bra colors and trying to guess cup sizes.”

I let out a little laugh, but hug him tighter.

He whispers in my ear. “He’s not very good at it. Now, me. I’m pretty sure I am physic. Or maybe it’s just from experience.”

I back out of the hug and laugh. Then I fold my hands in prayer and close my eyes.

“What are you doing?”

“Praying that the freshman girls will be protected from your evil ways.”

“Naughty ways, maybe, but not evil, baby.”

“I still don’t know why I let you call me baby. I should be taking offense at it.”

“It fits.”

“It’s what my stepdad calls all of us girls. It’s kinda comforting.”

As we walk into class he says, “Good. Now give me your worksheet, so I can copy it quick.”