Stalk Me (The Keatyn Chronicles, #1)



I’ve been in love with you for a long time, but your nudity and sex scenes in To Maddie with Love disgusted me.

I was so mad when I saw them, I wanted to fucking kill you.

To make you pay.

I thought you should know that I’ve moved on.

I’ve found someone younger and even more beautiful than you to love.





Farewell, Abby.





—Your former biggest fan





“So why are you upset about this? He’s done with you? That’s awesome, isn’t it?”

James stands up and starts pacing. “That’s what I don’t get. For the past fifteen years he’s been professing his love, but it was no big deal, just your basic fan mail. Then it began to sound violent, and he threatened you and the kids. Now we’re supposed to believe that after all this time, this is it? He’s done with you? It just doesn’t add up. What if he just wants us to let our guard down?”

“It really sounds like he’s moved on, James. I was freaked out about how the note got in my purse, but I did leave it on my chair for most of the night. And I know this sounds bad, but I’m glad he’s someone else’s problem.”

“I think we should cancel the party, Abby. There’s going to be six hundred people there. You’re going to be way too exposed.”

“CANCEL MY BIRTHDAY PARTY!? You can’t!”

Mom says, “Don’t be silly, James. We aren’t canceling her party.”

I run over and hug Mom. “Thanks, Mom. James, I know it’s your job to be uptight and on guard and all, but no stalker is gonna crash my birthday party. Especially one who says he’s moving on.”

“Well, I’m doubling the security, and, Abby, you’ll have a two-man team with you at all times.”

“Whatever you think is best,” Mom tells James.

I go in my room, fill my tub with water, get in, and think about my party.

About everything Vanessa and RiAnne said today.

They’re probably right about Brooklyn.

I pull Cush’s number up and send him a quick text. Ask if he’s coming to the party.

He doesn’t reply.





Thursday, August 18th

Commit social suicide?

8:30am





I open my eyes to a bright sunny day. The perfect weather for my birthday.

At midnight, Brooklyn called, woke me up, and told me happy birthday. I thought it was really sweet. And I don’t want to listen to my mind. I want to listen to my heart. My little sisters also came in at like five am, but I was able to go back to sleep.

I text RiAnne and Vanessa and tell them that I took their advice and texted Cush, but that he didn’t bother to reply. I told them I’m going to convince Brooklyn to come to my party, and that I’d like them to make him feel welcome.

I still think my plan will work. My best surfer friends will meet my best school friends, and by the time we head back here for the after-party, they’ll all be new best friends.

In fact, I’m pretty sure that my life is going to be perfect.

My phone vibrates with a text.





Vanessa: Are you trying to commit social suicide?





Okay, maybe not so perfect.

I should reply, say something snarky back, but I’m not going to. I don’t care if dating Brooklyn is social suicide. I love him.

And I really believe if they get to know him, they will see why.

I grab a bikini out of a drawer and pull it on.

I’m meeting Brooklyn in a few minutes. We’re gonna catch a few waves, and then he has something planned for my birthday.





Brooklyn isn’t on the beach yet, but I’m feeling so happy that I skip up the beach and start doing cartwheels in the surf. These next few days are going to be practically magical, I’m just sure of it. And it could be months before Brooklyn gets everything together and actually leaves.

A big wave comes in and knocks me down into the sand in the middle of my cartwheel.

I laugh, get up, and do it again.

“I might have to add a scene like that to our movie,” I hear a voice say. I turn around and see Vincent. He’s dressed casually in a Ralph Lauren swimsuit and a white t-shirt.

“You seem awfully chipper today.”

“Of course I am. Today’s my birthday.”

He walks closer to me, pulls me into a hug, and kisses my cheek. “Well, happy birthday.”

We sit down in the sand.

“Thanks. Sooooo . . .you’re here on the beach in a swimsuit. How come?”