Keatyn Unscripted (The Keatyn Chronicles Book 8)

by Jillian Dodd

  “Uh,” I say, trying to take my eyes off her long legs. “I’m sure the library will be fine.”

  She scrunches up her nose at me, probably because usually I’m trying to get her to come to my room so we can be alone.

  But I can’t have her come to my room tonight. I have to take down the damn stars first.

  “Please,” she says with a pout, moving closer to me—so close, I can see the purple glints.

  “Oh, fine,” I say, tilting my head and watching the shake of her skirt as she walks away.

  “Seriously, Dawson is going to pummel you if you keep messing with her,” Logan says, snapping me out of my reverie and making me mentally kick myself for agreeing. I swear, it’s like her eyes have some power over me.

  “It’s just tutoring,” I tell him.

  “Yeah, sure it is. I heard what Ashley said at lunch. I’m sorry you had to watch Dawson ask Keatyn to Homecoming. I know what that feels like.”

  “Thanks. You’re right. She’s with Dawson. I need to back off,” I lie.

  I rush up the stairs, knowing I’m late, to find her sitting against the wall in front of my dorm room, her eyes closed, in the exact spot she was the night of the party when I fixed her lips. I can’t help but hope that’s what she’s thinking about right now.

  I slide down the wall next to her. “Sorry, I’m late.”

  “It’s okay,” she says with a nod. “I haven’t been waiting that long.”

  I can’t help but smile at the two of us sitting here. In the exact same spot. “This is familiar.”

  “What is?” she says, pretending not to know exactly what I’m talking about.

  “Don’t you remember the party? When I kissed you right here?” I gently touch her lips with my finger. “Fixed your lips.”

  “Yeah, I remember, Aiden,” she says with a sigh.

  She starts to get up, but I grab her arm. “Why don’t we just sit out here and study? Um, my room’s a mess.”

  “You’re such a liar,” she says, calling me on it. “Your room is always perfect.”

  I roll my eyes, knowing I need to be firm about this. “I think out here would be better.”

  “Aiden, what is in your room?”

  “I just . . . there’s something I don’t want you to see, okay?”

  She squints her eyes at me, looking curious, then gets up and opens my door.

  She looks around. Thank God, she doesn’t look up. “It looks normal.”

  Maybe she won’t even notice them. “Okay, well, let’s get to it.” I set my backpack on the ground and pull out my French workbook.

  She does the same, taking it out and setting it on my desk.

  “It’s been an exhausting, crazy day,” she says, flopping down on my bed.

  Shit. Don’t look up. Don’t look up.

  But part of me wants her to look up.

  She looks around my room again then closes her eyes and says, “Okay, so I worked on the first page of our homework during drama today. Do you want to copy it and just go over it? It’s mostly review.”

  “Uh, sure,” I reply. “Give me a minute.”

  I grab her notebook and start copying.

  “You don’t have the twinkle lights on,” she says. “It looks weird.”

  I glance up from my notebook and notice her looking at the ceiling. Spit catches in my throat, causing me to cough.

  I changed my mind. I don’t want her to see it.

  But she does. Her eyes go wide and she says, “Aiden! Oh my gosh! You put up stars. Are they the glow-in-the-dark kind? I love those! My little sisters had them all over the ceilings of their bedrooms.” She keeps studying them, apparently not realizing what it says yet. “Are they in a pattern?”

  “Yeah, they’re in a pattern.” I tap my pencil on my workbook, getting agitated. “You were the one who wanted to come here so we wouldn’t get distracted. Let’s focus on French. We have a lot to do.”

  “No. I want to see them lit up first. I’m gonna turn your lights off for a minute.”

  I immediately move to the bed, blocking her from getting up.

  I stare into her eyes, desperately trying to tell her that I love her. That she should be with me. That I spent eight hours yesterday working on this just for her.

  “What?” she says.

  “I didn’t want you to see this, but I know you won’t stop bugging me.” Because she won’t.

  “That is true. Can I turn off the lights now?” She smirks at me. She loves getting her way almost as much as I love giving it to her.

  “No. We’re gonna do this my way. Scoot over to the edge of the bed and then close your eyes.”

  I know she hates being told what to do, but for once, she complies.

  “You promise to keep them closed until I tell you to open them?” I ask. If I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it right.

  “Sure.”

  “Okay.” I flip off the light. Then I pull down my blinds and close my blackout drapes.

  I look at her, lying perfectly still on my bed, her hair splayed out around her face. The curves of her body rising and falling in all the right places. God, she’s beautiful.

  I lie down next to her, allowing our shoulders to touch, then reach my pinkie out and take ahold of hers like it’s the most natural thing in the world—and it feels like it is. “Open your eyes now.”

  I turn to face her, watching the emotions cross her face. First, she seems to just take all the stars in, then she squints slightly, and I can tell she’s realized what it spells out. She smiles broadly, but then the smile fades, and she frowns.

  Her breathing speeds up, and she moves her hand to her stomach, clutching it.

  Not what I was expecting.

  Just as I’m about to tell her the truth, she leaps off the bed, grabs her workbook and backpack, and bounds toward my door.

  But she gets tangled up with my chair.

  She and the chair do a sort of slow-motion dance before it darts out from underneath her and sends her crashing to the ground.

  I jump off the bed to help her, but she gets up and says, “I’m fine. I’m not feeling well all of a sudden. I’m sorry. I, uh, I have to go. Call Annie if you need help.”

  Then she rushes out of the door, slamming it behind her.

  I turn on the lights, extinguishing the stars, then call Logan to see if he wants to go off campus for dinner. I can’t bear facing her again tonight. This was bad enough.

  Unfortunately for me, he invites Alicia who invites Ashley, who won’t stop talking about Homecoming. I consider taking her to my room after dinner, showing her the damn stars, and asking her.

  There’s really no reason why I shouldn’t.

  Logan invites the girls to come to our dorm before curfew. Ashley reaches out and takes my hand. I allow it this time, figuring what the heck. I’ll ask her.

  We run into Riley in the hallway. He’s carrying what appears to be a bloody sock.

  “What the hell is that?” Logan asks, the girls agreeing with a screech.

  “Keatyn fell and cut her knee. It was bleeding really bad. She had to get five stitches.”

  I drop Ashley’s hand, immediately feeling sick to my stomach. Did she cut her knee when she fell on my chair? Was she so upset that she didn’t notice how bad it was?

  Why did the stars upset her so much? Is it because she wishes she would have said no to Dawson and yes to me? Or did she think they were for someone else?

  “Um, I’m not feeling so well,” I say to everyone, rushing off to my room.

  When I open my door, the stars are glowing.

  I consider grabbing the ladder and ripping them all down. But I can’t.

  For some damn reason, I just can’t.

  Tuesday, September 27th

  Five stitches.

  7am

  I highly doubt Keatyn will be at our Social Committee meeting this morning. I consider going back to sleep, hating how early our meetings are.

  But I go anyway, on the
off chance that I’ll get to see her. Sit with her. Spend time with her.

  When I arrive, I see her sitting in a chair, pulling her sock down, and inspecting the gauze over her cut.

  I sit down next to her. “Five stitches, huh?”

  “Yeah,” she slurs.

  “Why did you run out of my room and pretend you weren’t hurt, when you obviously were?”

  “I felt sick. I didn’t really know about the cut until I saw it was bleeding.”

  Peyton and Brad start the meeting, so I stop talking.

  Peyton goes through all the details for the Homecoming after party. I watch Keatyn struggling to stay awake.

  They must have given her some pain medication.

  I let her sleep for a bit, but then wake her toward the end of the meeting.

  “Boots,” I whisper. “I think you dozed off.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she says, as Brad goes over more details.

  Considering she’s a little messed up, I figure I might as well make one last effort. “Will you save me a dance at the after party?”

  “I don’t know,” she says with a playful smirk. “Can you dance?”

  Can I dance? Of course, I can dance.

  But . . . an idea pops into my brain.

  I put my head down in embarrassment.

  It works. She says, “Oh my gosh. Is that why you only wanted to dance to slow songs? Is that all you know how to do?”

  “I’ll get my French homework done before tutoring. You can teach me to dance instead.”

  “I don’t really feel like dancing, Aiden. The knee and all.”

  No way she’s getting off that easily.

  “I’ve gone above and beyond the call of duty in Social Committee. It’s not something I really had the time to do, but I did it for you. So you owe me.”

  No rhythm.

  4:40pm

  Keatyn is in my room after school, getting ready to teach me how to dance.

  “This is silly,” she says. “I can’t teach you how to dance. Plus, I’m injured.”

  “I saw you jogging at soccer practice, even though I doubt you were supposed to.”

  She giggles. “I took another pain pill. Felt healed.”

  I raise an eyebrow at her, causing her to give me a dramatic sigh. She turns on a dance playlist, grabs my hips, and moves them to the beat.

  Well, tries to.

  I pretend to have no rhythm.

  She seems to give up, turning around. I’m about to tell her the truth when she stands in front of me, pushes her back firmly into my chest, and pulls my arm around her waist.

  Then she grinds her ass into me.

  Holy shit.

  I grind back, forgetting that I’m not supposed to know how and simply loving the feel of her body—and kinda wishing we were naked. I consider sliding my hands up her skirt.

  She puts her hands on top of mine and moves them around her body in the name of dancing.

  And I’m pretty sure I’ve died and gone to heaven.

  After about six songs, there’s a moment when I feel myself start to harden. I’ve been controlling myself pretty well up until now, but she just slid my hand across from her stomach down further. And there’s only so much a guy can take.

  So I don’t embarrass myself, I spin her out of my arms and break out my dance moves.

  “What the hell?” she says with a genuine look of surprise on her face. “Did you used to be in a boy band? Are you here in some embarrassment protection program?” I give her a sneaky grin as she shakes her head at me. “Don’t tell me you can sing, too.”

  Now that I’ve regained control, I find myself going back for more. “We’ll have to save that for another day, Boots. I don’t want to overwhelm you with all my talents at once.”

  “Everyone says you have great hands,” she says.

  “These?” I ask, holding them up in front of her.

  She studies them, then glides a finger across my pinkie and middle finger. “What happened here?”

  “Knife attack. In the war,” I tease.

  “Very funny.”

  “Fine. Cleat attack.”

  “Now I know why you’re such a good goalie,” she says, further examining my hands.

  “Because I'm fast.” I quickly slap the tops of her hands. Like the game we used to play when we were kids.

  She slaps mine back quickly, surprising me. “Not fast enough,” she says with an adorable smirk. She takes my hands in hers again, holding them up and scrutinizing them. “They’re too big for your body.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Proportionately. They’re off. They’re too big.” She tilts her head at me, taking in my six-foot-two-inch frame. “That, or you’re not done growing yet.”

  “I’m probably not done growing yet,” I shrug, then start doing the robot to the music. I’d much rather be dancing with her.

  “You so know how to dance,” she says with a laugh.

  “Naw, you’re just a really good teacher. I couldn’t do this until today.”

  “You’re such a liar. How do you know how to dance like this? You dance alone in your room to music videos or something?”

  “No. I have a bossy older sister.”

  “So?”

  “So, instead of wanting to play school or Barbies, she wanted to play dance instructor. If I played nice, she snuck me cookies.”

  “So everyone at school knows you can dance like this but me, right? Very funny. Ha. Ha. You tricked me.”

  I take a step closer to her, wrap my arm around her waist, and put my leg between hers—our lower halves entwining in an intimate way.

  “You’re the only one at school who knows I can dance like this. Well, besides my sister.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s embarrassing. You asked me if I was in a boy band witness protection program or something.”

  “Ohmigawd, did your mom video tape it? I'm so asking your sister.”

  I stifle a laugh. Seriously, she’s so cute. And I have so much fun with her. Doing nothing. Although with the heat radiating off her leg, I probably can’t call this nothing. Somehow, I don’t think Dawson would be thrilled to see us like this. Not that I care. I practically live for these moments. And tonight has just reconfirmed what my heart says—she’s not in love with Dawson. And that means I still have a chance. “You are not. Or you’ll be in trouble.”

  “Oh, really?” she sasses, getting in my face. “What kind of trouble?”

  I grab her ass firmly in each hand, squeeze it, and raise an eyebrow in challenge.

  She does the same, grabbing the back of my jeans. She licks her lips as she pulls my shirt up over my head and tosses it on the floor.

  I slide my hands across her curves, from her thin waist to her slender hips.

  She responds by gliding her fingers down my sides.

  “You gonna do that at the dance?” I ask.

  “Maybe.” She plants her palms firmly on my pecs, then closes her eyes and dances with me—grinding on my leg.

  I don’t care anymore if she can tell how much she turns me on.

  When we danced during our twenty-nine songs, it was our bodies pressed together and swaying, barely moving and completely caught up in each other. This is different—a playful mix of crazy fun and sinfully sexy foreplay.

  A faster song starts, and she pushes off my chest, jumps up and down, then turns around and shakes her shapely ass at me. It takes everything I have not to pick her up, throw her on my bed, and ravish her.

  But I’m enjoying this moment with her too much. There will be plenty of time for that later, so I spin her around and put my knee back between her legs.

  She runs her hands over my shoulders, so I start a fast, exaggerated version of a waltz—pulling her toward me, spinning her out, then back in tightly to my chest.

  She’s only wearing a little bra top, so I place my hand on her bare stomach and caress it, causing her to reach up and wrap her arm around my neck.

>   I drop my head, allowing our cheeks to touch. Even though the beat is fast, our bodies have slowed down. I let my hands roam slowly across her body, causing her to shiver in their wake.

  Then the music stops.

  She turns around to face me.

  Our faces are so close.

  Our lips torturously closer.

  My hand tangles in her hair, and I look into her eyes, knowing they convey both fire and love.

  She lets out a big breath of air, her posture suddenly shifting.

  “I think you’re ready for the dance,” she says, grabbing her jacket from my chair.

  I steal it from her and plop down on the futon.

  “Dance for me,” I command. I’m not ready for her to leave, and I could tell by the look on her face, she just thought about Dawson. About how she shouldn’t have been dancing with me like that. But she couldn’t really help it. She belongs with me.

  “Dance for you?” she asks.

  “Yeah.”

  “You wanna see my Kiki stripper moves?” she laughs, trying to make a joke. “Cuz I really don’t have any.”

  “No. I want to see you move. Show me your new routine. My sister’s been telling me about it.”

  “I can’t show you. It’s totally top secret.”

  “It’s either that or I pull you on this futon and make a cheater out of you.” And I’m so not kidding at this moment. Her hands all over me have left me on fire.

  “Look, Aiden. It’s nice that we’re getting along better. But I like Dawson, and I shouldn’t have danced with you like that. I don’t want to give you the wrong idea. So if I’m going to keep tutoring you, it’ll have to be in the library. No more dances. No more almost kisses. No more talking on my neck.”

  “But you and Dawson aren’t exclusive. You still aren’t wearing the key. So go on a date with me. Date us both.”

  She seems to consider this by staring into my eyes, maybe trying to decide if I’m serious or not.

  “I’m sorry, Aiden, but I can’t date a guy like you. A guy who can’t decide if he loves me or hates me.” I’m going to counter her argument, tell her how I feel, but she says, “And I know we had some crazy love at first sight thing, but we obviously would be a disaster together.”