Keatyn Unscripted (The Keatyn Chronicles Book 8)

by Jillian Dodd

  As she is booting up her computer, Aiden walks next to me and sits in his desk behind me. And I can’t help it, I think about how I forgot to check the back of my hair at lunch. And Dawson was messing with it. Teasing me. Whispering in my ear. He is so freaking cute.

  But then there’s Aiden.

  Aiden is beyond cute.

  Like Buzz Lightyear says, To infinity and beyond.

  Aiden is cute to infinity and beyond.

  And even though he is sitting behind me, and I can’t see his mouth, I still feel his magnetic pull. Like my body knows things my mind doesn’t. (Magnetic—like Tommy felt with Abby…)

  Is it like those animals that migrate back to the same spot every year? Their bodies just know to fly them there. My body just knows that Aiden is where I belong? (Oh gosh, this is a funny story. When I sent the final version of this—which would have been in Kiss Me— to my editor, she said “Did you mean: birds?” I died laughing, because I was literally embarrassed for myself.)

  OMG!

  Stop it!

  Stop thinking these stupid, stupid things.

  Maybe I should drop French 2. I think you can still switch classes this week. And really, I can speak better french than the teacher, so I’m thinking I need to be moved up. Plus, do I really need to be tortured by Aiden sitting next to me every day?

  I tell Annie, “I’m thinking about dropping this class.”

  From behind me I hear, “Why would you do that?”

  “Speak to me in French,” I tell him.

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “Anything. Ask me where the bathroom is, tell me you want to order chicken, I don’t care, just tell me a simple sentence.”

  “Hmm. Um, Vous êtes une fille.”

  I say, “Yes, you’re right, I am a girl. You got anything else?”

  “Uh, très jolie?”

  “Very pretty? Who is very pretty? You have to make a complete sentence.”

  “I’m trying to say you are very pretty, I just don’t know how.”

  “And that is why I am thinking of switching classes. I think I can speak french better than the teacher.”

  “So, stay. You can tutor me. I suck at French. And worse case, you make an A.”

  And I say, “Tutor vous? Comme je pouvais m'asseoir que près de vous et de ne pas être tiré dans votre rayon tracteur. Sérieusement?”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing. Never mind,” is what I say to him, but what I actually said was, Tutor you? Like I could sit that close to you and not be pulled into your tractor beam. Seriously?

  But then I am thinking, maybe tutoring him wouldn’t be a bad idea. It would help me get over him. It would show me that he is not a god. Cause shouldn’t the God of all Hotties be able to speak French a little better? I mean it is the language of love. Shouldn’t he be like predispositioned or preprogrammed for that or something? (I love her rationality on this and why he couldn’t be a god. French is his weakness. Quite possibly, his only one.)

  “I’d really like it if you tutored me,” He sounds both sweet and sincere when he says it and somehow, I find myself agreeing.

  Annie says excitedly, “Here!! Look!!! Oh my gosh, these pictures turned out sooo good! Wait! Let me show you my favorite first. I showed it to my teacher this morning, and she says it’s so good, so full of emotion, that I should enter it in the State photography competition. Would you be okay with that? I told her I thought you would be. And ohhhhh, Keatyn, I didn’t tell you!!! ACE texted me last night after the game!!! Can you believe that??? Isn’t he just so cute?”

  And I was like, “Uh, yeah, that’s so exciting. And um, how bout we see these pics like later. Um, seriously, you can show me later.”

  “NO! I can’t wait!!”

  I try to tell her with my eyes that I really don’t want Aiden to see these pictures. But she is oblivious.

  “Okay. Look!!! This is the one that is so ammmzzzzing.”

  And there on her screen is a picture of me and Dawson. Sitting on the bench, under the tree. Dawson and I are looking in each other’s eyes. His eyes are tentative, like he’s trying to decide to kiss me or not, but he has sorta already decided because his body is leaned into mine, one big hand is cupping my waist.

  It’s an extremely romantic and beautiful picture, and if I didn’t know the people in it and what was really going on in their minds at the time, I would have thought they were incredibly in love. And the picture is brutal proof to me just how gorgeous Dawson is. His dark hair is perfectly messy, his skin is tanned and gorgeous, his jawline is strong and his nose looks like it belongs on a Beverly Hill’s plastic surgeon’s nose chart for perfection.

  I look surprisingly pretty too. There is a slight breeze, and my long hair is just moving slightly back, the lighting is soft, my skin is so perfect it almost looks airbrushed and there are highlights perfectly glistening on my cheekbones.

  It looks like a very tender moment caught on camera.

  We look like we are totally in love.

  The thing about this photo is I see what was really going on. I felt the emotions, I know what he was thinking. What looks like tenderness and uncertainty in his eyes about should I kiss her is really uncertainty about should I even kiss her when I am clearly in love with someone else. And I was thinking pretty much the same. Should I kiss a boy, whose brother I have made out with, who I know is in love with someone else, who I know is probably not the love of my life? But I can’t say any of that. She is so excited about it.

  “Wow. That’s really a good photo,” I tell her, commenting on the lighting and the trees and ignoring the subject matter.

  “Wait til you see the rest.” Then she starts clicking through picture after picture. Showing us a slow motion version of our kiss. Us moving closer toward each other, our lips touching, his hand moving toward to my face, my hand running through his thick, dark hair. It’s like watching a slow motion video of a car wreck. You want to tell her to stop, but yet you can’t get the words out.

  From behind me I hear a SLAM, as Aiden gets his french textbook out of his backpack and slams it on his desk.

  I’m thinking he doesn’t like the photos. (I wonder why?)

  Annie looks at him, then at my face and says quietly, “Oh, um, class is about to start, I will just show you these later.”

  The rest of the day goes on without a hitch. Finish school, dance practice, dinner, go to the library, pretend to study, flirt with Dawson instead, back to my room, fall asleep the second my head hits the pillow.

  Thursday, September 1st

  The shot heard round the world.

  lunch

  Apparently whilst my head was sleeping happily on my pillow, other events were occurring, unfolding, whatever you would call it.

  And the event that triggered it all was Annie deciding to post the pre-kiss and a few of the kissing photos on her facebook page, tagging both me and Dawson.

  Not only that, but she added titles to the pictures.

  Cutest couple EVER!!

  SOOOO ROMANTIC!!!!

  Submitting to MTV Awards as the BEST KISS OF THE YEAR!

  And so on.

  Now, I have obviously been a busy girl this week. Between getting settled in my room, getting to know my roommate, trying to learn four dances for the football game this Friday, sneaking out to smoke and kiss Dallas, hanging with Dawson, doing homework, and trying to avoid the god, needless to say, I haven’t been on facebook. I really was never that into it to begin with, but apparently everyone here is. And I do remember Annie stealing my phone during the football game and logging on to my facebook account to confirm our friend status, but I really wasn’t paying attention. (This obviously got changed due to the stalker factor, and Annie created her a profile, and she included a picture of her backside while wearing her plaid skort. It was taken by Dallas. She used it because even though Garrett warned her about facial recognition programs, he didn’t mention they had those yet for asses. Also, in thi
s version, I miss Garrett.)

  I believe that everyone else at the school was paying attention. Because these photos have become like the shot heard round the world. Honestly, I don’t know what the shot heard round the world was. Seems like I studied that at some point during history. I can’t remember, but I am pretty sure that this facebook post was like that shot. (But the shot happened, regardless.)

  So keep in mind, I have no clue. No one has said anything to me directly in my morning classes. There was some murmuring behind me, but I didn’t really pay attention. One girl asked me if I was going out with Dawson and how he was SSSSOOOOOO HOTTT, but I was just like, Uh, no, not yet.

  But at lunch, Dawson pulled me aside, “Did you see the pics on facebook?”

  “What pics?”

  “The ones Annie took of us kissing.”

  “Uh, no.”

  “EVERYONE has seen them. Everyone is talking about them, I’m kinda freaking out a little about this.”

  “So you don’t want anyone to know you have been kissing me? Is that the problem?”

  And I have to say, that pissed me off a little. Because I know exactly what he is not saying. And what he is not saying is that he doesn’t want Peyton to see them, or maybe that she’s already seen them and is mad about it. I really don’t know.

  “I, uh, no, it’s not that. I mean people have seen us kiss and stuff. I don’t know. I just wasn’t prepared for it to be quite so public, I guess.” (My own blood is rising here.)

  And to me, what he said is that he is a little embarrassed by them. And although I don’t know how much I like him, that didn’t make me feel very good. In fact, it made me mad. and honestly, a bit hurt.

  So I said, “Hey, don’t worry about it. If you’re embarrassed by them, untag yourself and I’ll make sure that we don’t do anymore kissing in public,” and then I added strongly, but quietly, “OR IN PRIVATE for that matter.” (Good for you, Keatyn. Ass. LOL.)

  And I walked away. Took my tray, threw my lunch in the trash, and walked outside by myself.

  I’m sitting on a bench far away from the scene of the crime and texting Brooklyn.

  Me: Sorry for acting weird last night, I’m just trying to figure this all out. It’s confusing. I’m sorry for thinking we’re something we’re not.

  Brooklyn<3: For us to get through this, be together long term, we are going to have to be flexible in our relationship. Either until you graduate, or decide to come back home. I’m trying to be realistic and still keep you in my life. I want you in my life Keats, in whatever way I can. And remember, you are the one that decided to go away to school. I’m just trying to make the best of it. (B is very mature and realistic here. I love that he wants her in his life, and the “In whatever way I can” is totally foreshadowing!)

  Me: Maybe I should just come back home. I miss you. I miss the beach. (Luckily, abs are plentiful at Eastbrooke. But we probably shouldn’t say that to B.)

  Brooklyn <3: Do you miss me or you just having a rough day?

  Me: Probably both.

  Brooklyn <3: Give it some time. I love you.

  I read his text and throw my phone back in my backpack. What he said was sweet and probably both true and wise but really, it didn’t make me feel any better. I lean back and just close my eyes. Tell myself to be chill. Tell myself I’m at the beach. Pretend I can feel the salty air, the ocean breeze.

  (This was added here. And it’s important. First, she’s riding a white stallion. Aiden has a white car. The same car that he and Riley later smashed into Vincent’s van when he kidnapped her and Dallas in order to try to rescue her. She’s wearing the pink dress he has made for her to wear to the movie premiere. Vincent was keeping Brooklyn at a house on the beach. Aiden, Aiden. Aiden for Moonboy!)

  I start to daydream.

  FADE IN: A BEACH IN MALIBU BATHED IN MOONLIGHT

  A young prince is riding down the beach on a white stallion.

  A girl is also on the beach. She’s wearing a gorgeous pink strapless gown with a corseted waist. The skirt of the dress is layer upon layer of pale pink ruffles. Her hair is half up, the rest is cascading in curls onto her shoulders. A tall, dark man dressed in a black suit has a hold on the princess’ wrist and is dragging her up the beach to the dragon’s lair.

  PRINCESS KEATYN

  Help!

  DARK MAN

  No one is going to hear you scream.

  The prince hears the fair maiden’s scream. He turns his horse around and gallops toward the noise. He sees the girl. And instantly falls in love. He’d do anything to protect her. He jumps off his steed and pulls out his sword. Fights the man to death.

  Then he turns his attention toward the princess, who was knocked to the ground in the scuffle.

  PRINCESS KEATYN

  (Turns to face her rescuer. And recognizes his handsome face.)

  I feel someone sit down on the bench next to me. It’s Dallas.

  “Well you sure told him,” he laughs.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Dawson. How you basically said you weren’t gonna kiss him again. Is it bad that I was sorta applauding under the table? And by the way, are your panties purple today? It feels like they are.”

  I laugh. I can’t help it. Dallas is freaking funny. And he has a way of being funny at just the right times.

  “Close, they are pink. Hot pink.”

  “Yeah, I told you about lying to me, Kiki. I think you’re lying to me. I’m gonna have to call for a panty check.”

  “I’m not showing you my underwear.”

  He leans in closer to me and says quietly, “Well, of course not here, sweetie. I was thinking somewhere more private.”

  The bell rings for us to start getting to class, and I tell Dallas, “I’m pretty sure that I am done with boys.” And walk to French.

  I am so done with boys.

  Damn, French

  Is it too soon in the year to consider skipping? I wonder what happens when you skip? Maybe I should go to the nurse with a fake case of cramps or pretend I am gonna vomit.

  Honestly vomiting sounds fun compared to sitting in front of Aiden, with his judgmental eyes boring into the back of my head.

  He sits down, leans forward in his desk, and says quietly in my left ear, “So I heard you and Dawson are through.”

  What!??? It’s been, wait let me check, I look at the clock. It’s been seventeen minutes, give or take a few, since I told Dawson I wouldn’t kiss him again. And Aiden already knows about this??!!

  I don’t turn around. I can’t. I don’t dare look into his eyes, or stare at his smile. I just say, “Where did you hear that?”

  “Lunch. Heard he was upset about your stupid facebook pics.”

  “They aren’t my pics. I didn’t post them.”

  “You know what I mean. The pics of you two.”

  “All I know is I. CAN. NOT. WAIT. FOR. THIS. WEEKEND.”

  “What are you doing this weekend? Are you going back home?”

  “Nope. Going to watch the guy the quotes me Keats surf in a tournament on Long Beach. I can’t wait to see him. Have him wrap his arms around me and make me forget about all the stupid boys here.”

  “Oh.”

  We’re walking out of class when he says to me, “Hey, you coming to watch the JV game tonight? I was thinking about scoring some more points.”

  “Good luck with that,” I tell him and leave him in my dust.

  Seriously, I AM DONE WITH BOYS.

  Wishing it was laced with rum.

  7:30pm

  Apparently it is okay to be done with boys, but I still have to go watch them play football. Katie told me I had to go with her to the game. Plus I was going to honestly go anyways because Riley told me this morning that he is starting at quarterback for the JV tonight and wants me to watch and cheer for him, even if he makes a fool out of himself. He was nervous. Oh course, I agreed.

  Katie and I sit in the bleachers with Maggie, Beth, Dallas, Carson, Parker and so
me of the other Freshmen boys not on playing on the JV team tonight.

  Riley does really well. He lines up under center, drops back and throws a perfect long spiral down the field, straight into Aiden’s open hands. He catches it, runs about 8 yards and into the end zone. Everyone is screaming, cheering, shaking paper pompoms. Aiden tosses the ball back to the ref, looks straight into the stands, and I’m pretty sure at me, kisses his glove and blows a kiss into the stands. (Very Cush-like.)

  At me.

  Uh, I think.

  Dallas turns to me and says in a high pitched voice, “Oh, how adorable, Aiden just blew me a kiss. Now I just need to find out what color his panties are and we will get married, buy an organic farm, adopt twins and wear pink happily for the rest of our lives.”

  I roll my eyes at him.

  Katie grabs my arm with excitement and says, “OH MY GOSH!! DID AIDEN JUST BLOW YOU A KISS?”

  “I’m not really sure. Maybe he just does that whenever he scores, you know, like blowing them into the stands at his fans or whatnot. Or maybe he has like a girlfriend we don’t know about.”

  “Or maybe he considers YOU his girlfriend, and you just don’t know it yet.” (Bing. Bing.)

  “Uh, that is definitely NOT it. Hey, I’m gonna go get a hotdog. Anybody want anything?”

  I threw my lunch in the trash, skipped dinner to sulk, and now I’m starved. Dallas asks me to bring him some skittles, and I clump down the bleachers. Dawson has been sitting in the bleachers just below and slightly to the left of us with a group of friends, cheering enthusiastically for his brother. Which I was really glad to see. Peyton and Jake are no where to be found. I heard in dance today that he asked her to go out with him, and she said yes, but Katelyn told me it is not FBO, facebook official, yet, so she said to not believe the rumors.