I laugh.
He’s funny.
The dean guy is droning on about being special and chosen to go here and what an honor it is. And he may be going over rules. I’m still not listening. I’ve never been much of a rule follower. Well actually, I’ve never really had any rules to follow. I’ve never had a curfew. Really, my only real rule is that I have to wear a helmet if I ride rollerblades, skateboards, longboards, or Brooklyn’s motorcycle. But that’s about it.
Riley snaps his fingers. “I have a great idea. Keatyn is a boy’s name. Let’s dress you up like a boy. You can be my roommate by day, and then be my hot little plaything at night.”
I roll my eyes at him, like I’m so bored.
But I’m not.
I’m actually having fun, and I haven’t thought about the stalker in almost twenty minutes. So I give him some shit, like I used to give to Cush. I think he likes it. “Seriously?”
“Forgive him,” Dallas says. “He thinks all the girls want him. He’s been going on and on about all the hot girls that came to his brothers’ parties this summer that he slept with.”
I raise my eyebrows at him like I don’t believe a word of it.
“It’s all true, baby.” Riley says.
“So basically you either had your brothers’ sloppy seconds or girls who were too drunk to know better?”
“Oh, I’m gonna like you.” Riley nods. His eyes run from the toes of my pointy boots up to my tan collarbones. “You gonna be my first real challenge?”
“Sounds like I’m probably much too young and much too inexperienced for you.”
He glares at me. At first he was trying to impress me with his experience, now I just turned it around and made his experience seem like a bad thing.
“I think you’re faking a boyfriend.”
“Oh really?” I grab my phone and pull up a picture of Brooklyn and me. One of only two that I was allowed to download to my new phone. We’re standing facing each other, swimsuits on, boards stuck in the sand next to us. His arms are casually around my waist, and he’s getting ready to lean in and kiss me. The sun is glimmering on the ocean as it’s getting ready to set, and the sky is a brilliant shade of fiery oranges, pinks, and reds. Brooklyn is looking at me in the dreamy way he always does.
Not that you can see that in the photo. I wasn’t allowed to have a picture of his actual face.
“See?”
The boys pass the phone around.
I hear a freshman say, “Dayummm, look at the bikini. Nice.”
Then they all huddle around my phone. You’d think I just handed them a centerfold.
I try to grab my phone from them. “Oh my gosh, you’re not supposed to be looking at my body.”
Riley has my phone now. “What are we supposed to be looking at?”
“At us. Can’t you tell how happy we were?” Were being the key word in that sentence.
“All guys look like that when their arms are wrapped around a hot bikini.”
To prove his point, he puts his phone in front of me and scrolls through about a million pics of him with bikini-clad girls posing next to him, hugging him, kissing him on the cheek, kissing him.
“See. I’m not in love with any of these girls. It means nothing.”
Oh my gosh, he frustrates me.
“Fine then. I mean nothing to him.”
The dean guy is going on now about the activities for this weekend, how we should each join at least two extracurricular activities, how sports tryouts are tomorrow, and some other stuff that was all online.
I don’t understand why we need to hear it all. It’s pretty obvious that everyone has either read it or doesn’t give a shit because no one is even paying attention to him. Well, except for a few girls down front, who are pretending to be rapt.
Or maybe they are. Who knows. Who cares.
My phone is passed to Dallas. He stares at my bikini, then jumps slightly when it vibrates in his hand. “Ooooh, you just got a text from B with a heart.” I try to grab the phone. “It says, Miss you already. Last night was amazing and well, this morning too. Winky face. Then, Love you, heart. Oooh la la.”
Love you??? What’s that all about? And when did he add a heart next to his name? See, it’s this kind of stuff that’s confusing. Sex can really confuse the issue. Actually, I think sex makes you kinda forget that there even are issues.
“See, I’m not making him up.”
“What did you do last night that was so amazing?” Riley arches an eyebrow at me and there’s a stupid grin on his handsome face.
I look at him a little puzzled. “What do you think?”
“I take it you’re not a virgin?” Riley says smoothly. “Me either, but most of these douches are.” He points back at the freshman boys.
“You have no idea what he’s talking about. Maybe we made pancakes this morning. Or maybe we caught a great wave, and it was amazing.”