Page 7 of Stalk Me (The Keatyn Chronicles 1)
It was the best first date ever.
For both of us.
I feel a little sorry for the boy that falls in love with me. He’s gonna have really big shoes to fill.
I think about Brooklyn. How he looked walking down the beach the first time I saw him. How cute it was when he swam out and taught me how to surf. It was my fifteenth birthday. We had just moved into Tommy’s Malibu beach house, and I got the present I’d been asking for: Mom and Tomm
y told me I could stay here, even when they were traveling, and go to high school. Then Tommy told me if I was gonna live on the beach, I needed to learn how to surf. He gave me a bunch of tips, but he told me the best way to learn was to just get out there and try. So I did. Over and over again. I fell so many times, but I wanted to learn so badly. Brooklyn paddled out after a couple hours of my feeble attempts and taught me.
The second our eyes met, I knew.
Knew I was in love with him.
Knew it was love at first sight.
But then I found out that love at first sight doesn’t work out so well when the person you fall for doesn’t fall back.
"S'up, Keats?" I hear Brooklyn call out. I turn to see him walking up the beach toward me. “You just get home?”
I stand up. My beautiful dress is wet and sandy, but I know it still looks pretty blowing in the breeze.
“Yeah, I just came out here to think. "
He walks closer to me. "You look really pretty. What’s wrong? Did Cinderella not have fun at the ball?"
Ohmigawd! Did he just say I look really pretty?
“Prom was fine,” I lie.
We sit back down in the sand. I take a drink of beer then hand it to him. He takes a swig and hands it back.
"So why do you look upset? Come on, Keats. What’s up? Someone wear the same dress to the party?"
I sigh. Brooklyn doesn’t think much of Hollywood-type parties, high school parties, my friends, or my boyfriend. He thinks they are all shallow and vapid. Which means he’s probably not the best person to say this to.
"I'm thinking about breaking up with Sander,” I say quietly.
“You should. He’s an arrogant asshole and a whiner. ”
“He only whines about how much time I spend with you and the guys, and everyone at school will think I’m crazy. "
"Why do you care so much about what people think? He's not the right guy for you. And look at you. You'll have guys standing in line to take his place. "
Did he just give me another compliment?
I look into his eyes. I’ve written so many scenes about those ocean blue eyes. I glance at his lips. The lips I’ve been dying to kiss.
"I don’t think guys will be standing in line,” I say, shaking my head.
“Keats, you’re a very pretty girl. Trust me, lots of guys will. ”
There’s the key word in the sentence. Girl. Brooklyn still sees me as the fifteen-year-old girl he first met.
I want so badly to say, Would YOU be standing in line?
But I don’t.
“My friends will get mad at me. ”
"If they were your real friends, they’d want what's best for you. He’s not what’s best for you. ”
I know he's right, but still, I like being popular.
Although, I’m embarrassed to admit, sometimes being popular kinda goes to my head. Like the other night at Cush’s party, these sweet freshman girls showed up. Vanessa immediately had her claws out. She made fun of their sundresses and told them they should go home. I just laughed in agreement instead of being nice like I should’ve been.
"I don't know what's best for me anymore, B. What do you do when you get your wish, but then you realize you wished for the wrong thing?” I sigh loudly and lean back in the sand. “There is a guy who I wish would be excited if I broke up with Sander,” I say, sort of to the moon. “But I doubt he will be. ”
Ohmigawd!
Did I just say that out loud?
I can't believe I just said that! I'd like to blame it on the alcohol, but I can't. I only had two glasses of champagne.
Brooklyn slowly takes a sip of my beer, licks his lips in the sexiest way ever, and leans back in the sand next to me.
"Maybe if you didn't have a boyfriend, the guy would think he had a shot. "
He leans closer to my face. I can't help but look at his mouth. God, I want that mouth. Please let him kiss me. Lying in the sand, under the moonlight, in a beautiful gown, would make for the perfect first kiss scene.
Instead, he gently rubs his thumb across my cheek and looks deeply into my eyes.
“I know you, Keats. You're not the same when you're with your friends. You turn into a high-strung, power-hungry, popularity whore when you’re with them. That's not you. You're my little laid-back surfer girl. "
His girl?
Awwww! OMG!
Wait . . . little girl?
Ack! No!
"I don't know who I am anymore. Or even who I want to be. Sometimes I feel like I live two separate lives. When Sander and I started dating, it was my dream come true. All I ever wanted was to be popular, have lots of friends, and date the most popular guy. Now that I have it all, it just feels . . . um . . . ” I search for the right word.
“Fake?”
“Kinda. It's like I'm living the movie of my life based on some script I wrote when I was twelve. Actually, I am. I still have the script I wrote. When I thought the best thing in life would be to have a boy kiss me. When I thought being popular and dating the hottest guy would be the key to high school happiness. "
I sit back up, fidget with my beer, and pop my toes in and out of the sand. I feel like I’m at a turning point in my life, and I’m just not sure which way I should turn.
He pulls a joint out of his pocket, lights it, and hands it to me.
“You seem really uptight. ” His eyes get big, and he grabs my arm. "Did he hurt you? Is that what this is all about?"
“Ha. ” I laugh pathetically. “Don’t I wish. ”
"You wish?"
I take a hit and then another. Then I start to get tears in my eyes.
Just what I want. The guy I totally crush on to see me all weepy.
He sees my tears, puts his arm around me, and is concerned. “Keats, tell me now. What happened?"
I slam one of my hands down in the sand in frustration. “I just don’t understand it. People say I’m pretty. Guys hit on me at parties and whistle at me on the beach. So why doesn’t Sander want me?”
