Love Me(The Keatyn Chronicles #4)

Friday, November 18th

I need the feathers.

1am



Tonight is going to be amazing, I think, as I knock on Aiden’s door lightly. I’m going to glide those feathers all over his naked body.

Finally.

He opens his door, pulling me inside and putting his lips on mine.

I pull him over to his bed and push him down on it.

“Where’s your backpack?”

“My backpack?” he says with a grin. “I don’t think we’re going to be doing any studying tonight.”

“I need the feathers.”

“Oh,” he says. “I forgot my backpack in my football locker.”

“Seriously?”

I plop sadly on his futon and stick out my lower lip.

“Stop that,” he says, flicking my lip and pulling me onto the bed. “Remember you asked about the dream I had?”

“The sexual one?” Ha! Now we’re getting somewhere. “Yeah. You promised to tell me, but you haven’t yet.”

“Lie flat on your back,” he bosses.

He lies on his back next to me, both of us looking up at his ceiling.

He reaches out and touches my pinkie like he did the day I first saw the stars.

He rolls over on his side and pulls me hard up against his chest.

“I think I’d rather show you,” he says.

Then he kisses me.

A mouth open, full-on tongue, hot, hard kiss.

Even after all the making out we’ve done, I didn’t know he was capable of a kiss like this.

Fire and energy roll like waves through my body.

When he bites my neck that fire pulses directly between my legs. He rolls on top of me, but is holding himself above me. Like he's doing a push up. I run my hand across his arm, across the muscles that are all pumped from holding up his weight.

He slowly lowers his lips to my neck without letting any part of his upper body touch mine.

I feel the fire on my neck, but all I can think about is what is touching. His hips have mine pinned to the bed. His legs are between mine.

He runs his tongue slowly from my neck down into my cleavage.

I have a feeling of deja vu.

We did this in one of my own dreams.

“I’m doing what I dreamed,” he murmurs into my hair as he pulls off my shirt and runs his tongue down my chest, and straight to my . . . jeans.

When he undoes the button, I want to jump up and down and scream.

Who needs feathers when we have that tongue?

He slides his tongue across my stomach, stopping occasionally to kiss or suck on a spot. Then his tongue glides across the top edge of my panties.

Oh. My. Gosh.

I need his pants undone.

I’m ready for this.

And based on the massive hardness I can feel against my leg, he is too.

I reach down, get his pants unbuttoned, and touch his zipper.

Suddenly, he grabs my hand.

Stopping me.

“I don’t want to wait anymore.”

“We’re not going to yet.”

“Yes, we are. Stop telling me no.”

“What’s wrong with taking things slow? Not screwing it up?”

“Because it is screwing it up, Aiden. I’m going crazy here. Can we at least do a little more. Are you gay? Are you afraid for me to see it, or touch it? I mean, I can feel it. I know you have one.”

“I’m not gay. And I definitely have one. But I want it to be right when we do.”

“I never said we have to do it, but we can do more than what we’re doing now. There’s plenty more to do.”

“If we go that route, I won’t be able to stop.”

“Fine. I’ll stop us. I’ll take responsibility for stopping us.”

“No, you wont. If you had your way, we’d have already done it. You keep trying and trying!”

“That’s not true! I do want to wait for sex. I just don’t want to wait for everything!”

“Well, you’re gonna wait!”

“I’m TIRED of you telling me WHAT I’m gonna do!!”

“Maybe if you weren’t so freaking stubborn. Why do you have to fight me on every. Single. Thing?”

“I wouldn’t fight you if you would just let me have my way.”

“I think you’re a little too used to getting whatever you want, whenever you want it. This isn’t all about you. It’s about us. Remember the clover?”

“I get whatever I want, Mr. Maserati? I’m sick of being told no! I’m so done with this!”

I get up, storm out the door, and run to my room.



I lie in my bed, fuming and waiting for him to call and apologize.

He doesn’t.

So I text Riley.



Me: URGGGGG!!!!!



Riley: What’s wrong?



Me: He turned me down! AGAIN!! And I didn’t even want to have sex. I just wanted to unzip his pants. But he said if I did, he wouldn’t be able to stop. Which is BULLSHIT! He could stop. I told him I’d make him stop, but he didn’t believe me. Then he said that I’m stubborn! I’M SO SICK OF HIM TELLING ME WHAT TO DO! Then he said I’m used to getting my way. I AM NOT USED TO GETTING MY WAY!!! And why isn’t he texting me? Calling me? Running after me? Begging me for forgiveness!!??



Riley: How long has it been?



Me: Twelve minutes.



Riley: You might be a little used to getting your way.



Me: I hate my life.



Riley: It’s just a fight. It will be fine. Ariela says hi. We’ll see you tomorrow.



Maybe I should go to the party and drown my sorrows in rum.

But I don’t really don’t feel like partying.

I’ll stay here. I’m sure he’ll be texting, calling, or knocking on my window soon. He’ll apologize and tell me I can unzip his pants whenever I want.

And then I will.



I wake up, look at the clock, and see it’s already five in the morning. Katie is in her bed fast asleep.

I reach to my bedside table, frantically feeling for my phone. When I can’t find it, I pat my covers all around me looking for it.

All of a sudden, it lights up from under my pillow.

It must be him!

I grab it, expecting to see that he’s tried to call me numerous times.

But he hasn’t.

I only have a few stupid Facebook notifications.

What the hell?
    

Saturday, November 19th

What’s wrong, baby?

7am



I wake up again at seven and immediately check my phone to see if he texted me.

He hasn’t.

Instead, I have a text from Camden.



Cam: What’s going on with Whitney?



Me: What do you mean?



Cam: She hasn’t sent me anything or texted me in three days.



Me: Shouldn’t you be happy about that?



Cam: I should be, but I’m not. Something’s up. Is Peyton okay?



Me: I haven’t seen her this morning, but she’s been fine.



Cam: Something is about to happen. I know it.



Me: Why do you think that?



Cam: Just stuff that she’s been saying about that new teacher. The last time she didn’t text me for three days, she got a girl expelled from school.



Me: Who?



Cam: Just a chick from the dance team. She was hot and was after Dawson hard.



Me: Did she lie to get her kicked out?



Cam: No one knows for sure. She told Peyton the girl was going down. And a few days later, she did.



Me: Peyton has really been pushing her buttons. I keep telling her to stop.



Cam: What’s your email?”



Me: [email protected]



Cam: I’m sending you a file. It is full of dirt on Whitney. You have my permission to use it to protect Peyton. If there’s any way for Dawson not to see it, I’d prefer it, but don’t let her hurt P.



Me: Are you in love with her?



Cam: We’re kind of like you and Riley. I feel the need to protect that girl.



Me: I’ll keep an eye out.



Cam: Thanks.



Me: Can I ask you something?



Cam: Sure.



Me: Is there any reason why you would stop a girl that you like from unbuttoning your pants?



Cam: Uh, can’t think of one.



Me: Would you be afraid you couldn’t stop?



Cam: I’d be afraid she couldn’t stop. I’m irresistible.



Me: What if she could? What if you wanted her to?



Cam: Why would I want her to?



Me: You’re making her wait until you’re sure you’re in love.



Cam: Uh . . . Is the golden boy making you wait?



Me: We got in a big fight last night about it and I stormed off. He hasn’t texted me or apologized or anything.



Cam: P says he likes you and you have that whole Thanksgiving break trip planned. I’m sure it’s just a little tiff.



Me: You’re right. Maybe I should apologize for that. Maybe he’s waiting for me to apologize?



Cam: Probably :)



Me: Thank you :)



Maybe that’s why he hasn’t texted me. He’s waiting for me to apologize.

So that’s what I’ll do. I’ll go watch his football practice and then apologize to him.

I shower, spend extra time blowing my hair out straight, and then stand in my closet trying to figure out what to wear.

If I were smart, I’d wear some sweats so I’d be warm and comfortable, but I want to look perfect when I say I’m sorry.

It’s chilly this morning, but has been unseasonably warm this week, so I decide on a cream lace bra and thong that have pale pink embroidery, cream over-the-knee socks worn with tall brown boots, orange denim shorts, a cream top, and a cream sweater jacket cinched with a brown braided belt.

I decide to pull my straightened hair back in a cute pony. So that I look like I didn’t try, even though I totally did. Kym would be proud.

I head out to get a coffee to take with me.

Just as I step out of my dorm, I notice Chelsea sitting on the brick wall.

She jumps off of it when she sees me and says, “Keatyn.”

“Hi, Chelsea,” I say politely because I know that Dallas likes her.

She raises her chin in the air. “I just wanted to let you know that Aiden and I hooked up last night. He’s mine now. And, really, no one likes you here. You should just go back to California or wherever it is that you came from.”

“I don’t believe you.”

She shrugs one shoulder and raises a bitchy eyebrow at me. “What? You think you can have every hot guy here? And you better believe it. Aiden and I have history. We broke up last year after prom, and he’s been begging to get back together all semester. You were nothing but a rebound.”

She turns her back on me and walks away, shaking her curvy ass.

I drop to the step, barely able to breathe.

Is that true?

I was just a rebound?

Was everything he told me a lie?

I’m going to . . .

I’m going to . . .

I don’t even know what I’m going to do.

But then I turn and run straight to the boys’ dorm.

I find myself knocking on Riley’s door.

He opens it wearing a Cougar athletic hoodie and sweats, ready for football practice. “Hey, I was just leaving.”

I stand there and stare at him. Then I lose it. Tears start streaming down my face. I shove my head into his chest and sob, going from calm and in control to a freaking wreck in the blink of an eye.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he says, rubbing my back and holding me up.

I blabber on about how Aiden swore he was going to be different. How we fought last night. How Chelsea was waiting outside my dorm. How she told me they hooked up. How he’s been trying to get back together with her all semester. How I was just a rebound.

While I am blathering, he’s texting.

“What’s so important?”

“I just asked Dallas to come here,” Riley says. His teeth are held together tightly, like he’s mad at me.

“Why?”

Dallas walks in the room and Riley literarily pushes me out of his arms and into Dallas’.

“He didn’t even say goodbye,” I say to Dallas, watching Riley march down the hall. “I mean, I know he had to leave for practice, but why is he mad at me?”

Dallas gives me a hug, pulls me onto his bed, and says, “I don’t think it’s you that he’s mad at.”

I stop sniffling. “Oh. So is that why he was texting you? He was telling you what happened?”

Dallas nods and says quietly, “Yeah.”

“Did you know about Aiden and Chelsea?”

“No,” he says, and I realize that he liked Chelsea a lot more than he admitted.

I sniffle, pull all the snot back into my sinuses—or wherever it goes—and say, “You liked her, didn’t you?”

“I was thinking about asking her to be my girlfriend. She said she really liked me.”

I hug him again, tightly. “Relationships suck.”

“Funny thing is, I didn’t think I wanted a relationship. But then we kept doing it. And it was fun. Hot. Nice.” He pauses. “Obviously, not nice enough.”

“I’m sorry, Dallas,” I say as his phone whistles at him, letting him know he has a text.

He holds his phone up so we can both read it.



Dawson: My brother just ran out onto the field, marched up to Aiden, and punched him. I’m talking freaking LAID HIM OUT. Question is, why?



Dallas: Kiki.



Dawson: So the rumors I heard this morning about him hooking up with Chelsea are true?



Dallas: I guess.



Dawson: Where is she?



Dallas: Bawling on my shoulder.



Dawson: Tell her I’ll be there right after practice.



Dallas and I decide to stop being pitiful and turn on some up-beat, happy music.

After we listen for a while, Dallas says, “Let’s throw a party.”

“A pity party?” I say with a sad laugh.

“Exactly.” He grabs his phone and orders ten large pizzas, lots of hot wings, breadsticks, and little molten lava cakes. Then he says, “Be right back.”

I go in their bathroom, fix my makeup, and talk to myself in the mirror.

You’re fine.

You don’t need a boy in your life.

You have good friends.

You’re happy with yourself.

That’s all you need.

But I also decide to send Aiden a text.

If I love myself, I should stand up for myself.

I type a long hateful paragraph and then delete it.

I type a short spiteful sentence and then delete.

I’m having a hard time getting into words the right amount of the venom I’m feeling combined with the impersonality of a chain letter. Finally, I end up with this.



Me: Chelsea told me that you hooked up last night.



Dallas strolls back into the room, his hands full of vending machine junk food: multiple bags of chips, pretzels, and candy bars. He’s got a full package of chocolate chip cookies tucked under his arm and bottles of full-sugar soda under the other.

“You’re like the king of pity parties. I worship you.”

“You’re looking more human. Not so much like a zombie.”

“Thanks, I think. Is it bad that I kinda want to go watch the end of practice? Try to show Aiden he means nothing to me?”

“Aiden has a broken nose and is in the locker room being attended to. Riley is in the dean’s office getting suspended.”

“Suspended? For what?”

“You can’t go around punching people. It’s kinda against school rules.”

“Oh. I never thought of that! I feel so bad! He shouldn’t have punched him, that was stupid of him.”

“Not sweet?”

“It was totally sweet, but he shouldn’t have.”

Dawson walks into the room, his hair wet from practice and looking more scrumptious than all the junk food combined. “Yeah, he should have.”

“What’s gonna happen? Do you know?”

“Well, Coach told me they were going to suspend him for the next three days, which would mean he won’t get to play in the playoff game. I told Coach that if he didn’t play, neither was I. That a lot of us wouldn’t play. He says he’s going to talk to the dean. We’ll see.”

“I feel really bad.”

Dawson grabs me around the waist and pulls me onto the bed with him.

“Last time Riley got mad, it was you he wanted to punch.”

“I didn’t cheat on you. So are you and Aiden over?”

“I thought it was just a fight. I mean, I said I was done, but I was frustrated. I didn’t mean it.”

“But now?”

I thought I was done crying, but tears fill my eyes. I can’t say it out loud. I don’t want to say it out loud. I shake my head. “Don’t make me say it, Dawson.”

“Why don’t you just have a cookie?” he says, handing me one.

I look up at him and Dallas. “I was going to say it just doesn’t get any better than this, but we’d need rum in our cokes for that.”

Dallas’ phone buzzes. “Pizza’s here. I’ll go get it.”

Dawson pops off the bed. “And I’ll go get some rum.” But then he sits back down on the corner of the bed and says, “As usual, I probably shouldn’t do this, but I am.”

Normally, I would say And then he kissed me, but he just kisses the side of my cheek. Which is good because I can’t kiss anyone else. I’m pretty sure Aiden ruined my lips forever.

Dallas comes back with the pizza delivery and we spread out all the food and snacks.

I chow down. I don’t care that I’m going to be in St. Croix in a bikini in a few days.

St. Croix. I’m such an idiot. Why did I invite Aiden and Peyton?

Obviously, they are officially uninvited.

I plop on the bed. Depressed.

And feeling like I just ate a moose.

Riley and Ace come walking in.

“It smells good in here,” Riley says, grabbing a piece of pizza, folding it in half, and shoving it in his mouth.

“Riley! Why did you do that? What did the dean say?”

He chews, then says, “He yelled at me. Told me I should be suspended for three days. Called my parents—who also yelled at me—and then brought Aiden in to talk about it. His nose is broken. The dean asked if he wanted to press charges. Aiden said no. Said he deserved it. That he hoped I wouldn’t get in trouble because the team needs me for the playoffs.”

“He said he deserved it?”

“Yep.”

“Shit.” I put my hand across my face and try not to cry.

I realize that I had still been holding out hope that she was lying to me. My heart didn’t believe he would do such a thing.

But if Aiden said he deserved it that means everything she said was true.

“So did you get suspended?” I ask.

“Coach says I have to run about a million laps and do some shit jobs for him, but I’m not suspended.”

I leap off the bed, throw myself into his arms, and start crying again.

He hugs me tightly and whispers, “Baby, I told you. Anybody messes with you, they have to answer to me.”

“Aiden hated that you call me baby.”

“I don’t think I care.”

“You deserve some rum and coke.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Riley?” I whisper.

“What?”

“Is Aiden okay?”

He pulls me out into the hallway. “He’ll be fine.”

“I appreciate you standing up for me, but you shouldn’t have done that. You could’ve gotten suspended or expelled.”

“Look, I need to go talk to Ariela. She’s upset.”

“Because you punched Aiden?”

“Yeah, she thinks it’s because I like you.”

“But you don’t.”

“You and I know that, but she doesn’t. I need to explain to her that I didn’t do it because of you.”

“You didn’t?”

“No. Aiden made me a promise and he broke it. That’s why I punched him.”

“What promise?”

Riley shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Let’s just say we were both wrong about Aiden.” He gives me a kiss on the cheek. “You going to be okay while I go?”

“Yeah. The pity party is sorta keeping my mind off things.”

I go back into their room and sit on the bed.

The boys go on and on about Aiden getting punched. How he hit the ground.

I can’t help it. I swore I wasn’t going to look at my phone, but I do.

There’s nothing.

So I message Peyton.



Me: I’m sure by now you heard what your brother did. I hope you understand that I have to un-invite you to St. Croix. I’m not mad at you, but your stupid smile is just like his and I can’t bear to look at it all break. I’m sorry. I hope this doesn’t affect our friendship.



Peyton: What happened? Really.



Me: We got in a fight last night. I told him I was done and walked out. But I didn’t mean done, like over. I was just done fighting. I was planning to apologize this morning, but Chelsea was waiting for me outside my dorm. She told me they hooked up last night and are back together. I was really upset and ran to Riley’s room, crying. He went and punched Aiden.



Peyton: I understand about the trip. Are you still going?



Me: Yeah. I need to get away.



Peyton: All alone?



Me: Definitely.



The guys eat all the pizza and then someone goes and gets a bunch of cupcakes from the café. They hang out, laugh, and talk about the big playoff game this week.

I go sit down next to Jake, who just joined us.

“Pity party, huh?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“What happened?”

I don’t want to talk about Aiden, so I grab a cupcake, pretend I’m going to eat it but, instead, I shove it in his face.

I giggle because he has frosting everywhere.

“Oh, you’re in trouble now, Monroe,” he says, chasing me down the hall.

I hide behind Dawson, who is coming back with more cups.

“Save me!” I scream.

Jake tries to jump around him, waving a cupcake at me. He sticks the cupcake up to Dawson’s face, getting a little frosting on it.

“You’re on your own,” Dawson tells me.

I don’t want to be on my own, so I throw my arms around Dawson’s neck, jump on his back, and hide my face behind his neck.

“She’s a devious one,” Jake says.

Dawson swings his body around, trying to get me off his back.

It doesn’t work.

Until they start working together.

Jake hands Dawson the cupcake. I try to push his hand forward so that it slams into his face, but Jake grabs me around the waist and tries to pull me off Dawson.

Dawson reaches around with his free hand and starts tickling my side.

I giggle, scream, and lose my grip around his neck.

Jake was pulling hard, but I don’t think he was prepared for the shift in momentum because he falls onto his back with me landing squarely on top of him.

Dawson turns around and pounces on us both.

“This is a new outfit! Don’t get frosting on it!”

“Tough shit,” he yells as he straddles us both.

While Jake struggles under our combined weight, Dawson grins and shoves icing onto our faces. Then he takes the cake part and crumbles it into our hair.

Jake yells, “As soon as I get up, you’re dead!”

Dawson doesn’t let him up; instead, he leans down and starts licking frosting off my cheek.

“Oh, Dawes, you’re making me hard,” Jake says jokingly, which causes Dawson to stick a frosting-covered tongue out at Jake.

I laugh, turn my head away from his tongue, and notice feet.

Jake goes, “Oh, hey, Aiden. How you feeling, buddy?”

I freeze.

I’m thinking this might look bad. Me in the middle of a boy sandwich.

Being licked.

Dawson stops screwing around and quickly pulls Jake and me up. We all stand there awkwardly.

I take a second to really look at Aiden.

His face—his beautiful, perfectly-sculpted face—is swollen and bruised. There are red crusty bits around the bottom of his nostrils. His skin, which is usually radiant, has a slightly gray tinge to it. It screams of hangover and pain.

Aiden stares at me.

Me, who was just lying on the ground sandwiched between two boys and getting frosting licked off her face.

Me, who wants to reach out and make the bruising go away.

Me, who wants to kiss away his pain.

There is more awkward silence, then finally Aiden states, “I’ve felt better.”

He slumps his shoulders and continues toward the stairs.

“Well, that was awkward,” Dawson says once he’s gone.

“He looked really bad. I feel really bad,” I confess.

“Why? He deserved it.”

“Did he?” Jake asks. “Regardless of what happened with Chelsea, you weren’t going out. You upset him. He got drunk. Then he goes to practice hung over and gets his nose broken by a friend.”

Dawson says, “He did look bad. Do you want to go talk to him?”

“No. I texted him. Told him I knew he hooked up with her. He hasn’t replied. Hasn’t apologized. Nothing.”

“I doubt he’s had time,” Jake counters. “He was throwing up this morning and then went to practice. Since then, he’s been either with the trainer or the dean.”

“He said he deserved it. He’s not going to text me. What would he say? Sorry for hooking up with her. Except, really, I’m not sorry because this is what I’ve wanted since last year.”

“I think you should go talk to him,” Dawson says.

I peek at my phone again, wishing he would say something.

Anything.

Some kind of explanation.

Because I don’t understand how I could’ve been so wrong about him.

I frown.

Dawson must see the disappointment on my face because he says, “Why don’t you come to my room? I think I have some more rum.”

“I need some rum.”

We get to his room and find a mostly empty bottle of rum.

“You can have it,” he says, handing me the bottle.

I grab it and take a big swig, realizing that since seeing Aiden, I need this pity party more than ever. I get tears in my eyes.

“Don’t cry,” Dawson says. “You know, something like this happened to me and Whitney once. We got in a fight. I was upset. Got drunk. Got taken advantage of.”

“You got taken advantage of? By who?”

“Just this chick on the dance team. She knew I was drunk. Knew I never would’ve kissed her if I wasn’t.”

“What were you fighting about?”

“I don’t even remember, probably something stupid. My point is, I was upset. I wasn't looking to hook up. I wanted to get drunk. Period. Then the next day, I was planning to beg for her forgiveness. I’m just saying, maybe Aiden didn’t mean for it to happen.”

“He’s wanted her all semester,” I say sadly.

All of a sudden, I don’t care about making a mistake. I need Dawson to hold me. I need him to make me feel good. Make me feel like someone cares about me. Someone wants me. I know it’s wrong. I know I shouldn’t need that. I know I will regret it.

But I don’t care.

I lean in to kiss him.

He puts his hand up and stops me.

“What?”

“We’re not gonna do this.”

“Why not?”

“I want you. You know I do, but I think it would be a mistake.”

“The last time I made a mistake it was the best sex of my life.”

I push him onto the bed and throw myself on top of him. I wrap my leg around his and slowly rock my hips into him. Kiss his neck. Try to undo his shorts.

"Keatie, damn. Stop, okay? I'm trying really hard to do the right thing here." He pushes me back. "You do what you just did to me to Aiden?"

"Uh, kinda."

"Gotta give the guy credit. No way I could say no.”

“Good. Untie this,” I say, pulling at the knot holding his workout shorts on.

“Except, that I’m saying no now.”

I flop over on my back. I swear, if I someone says that word to me one more time, I’m gonna lose it.

Dawson hovers above my face. “I’ll make you a deal. Settle it with Aiden. If it’s really over then I'll do anything you want."

"How about, for now, we just kiss?"

“Nope. You need to go talk to Aiden.”

“No way!” I pull my shirt up. “Look, I have on a really pretty new bra.”

He pulls my shirt back down.

“I’m trying to do the right thing here. Go. I'm serious.”

I stamp my foot. “Dawson, you're supposed to be my friend. I’m throwing myself at you.”

“Trust me, our friendship is the only thing keeping me from ripping those panties off you. That, and your phone’s been buzzing.” He grabs it off his nightstand and looks at it. “He tried to call you twice. He also texted you.”

I swipe the phone out of his hand and look at it.