Keatyn Unscripted (The Keatyn Chronicles Book 8)

by Jillian Dodd

  She felt it, too.

  I can’t help but grin. She just admitted that she loves me.

  A smile spreads across my face. I tap my foot, my whole body practically humming.

  “Why are you grinning?”

  “Love at first sight, huh?”

  “No. It’s just an expression. That stuff doesn’t happen in real life,” she says, unconvincingly.

  I stand up and move close, my chest touching hers. She sucks in a breath and moves slightly backward.

  But when she takes a step back, I take another step forward.

  She takes another step backward into my wall. Now there’s nowhere for her to go.

  I put my palms on the wall, boxing her in. The fire I’ve been feeling—the desire—is practically radiating off my body. I’ve never felt this kind of hunger before.

  She sighs and closes her eyes.

  I let my cheek graze against hers as I whisper in her ear. If she wants to play hard to get, well, two can play at that game. “I think being just your friend will be fun.”

  She doesn’t open her eyes, just pants out, “How so?”

  Dancing like we just did comes to mind, but that was more than friendly. I open my mouth, place it on her cheek, then slowly pucker, forming a kiss. Then I gently pull my top lip off her cheek first, the bottom lip staying in place and then—bit by agonizing bit—receding.

  Her eyes fly open in shock.

  “I have to go.”

  “See ya, friend,” I say playfully, but I don’t move. Just raise one of my hands off the wall, giving her a small pathway to squeeze through.

  Then she’s out the door.

  But it doesn’t matter, because I know how she really feels. I just need her to stop fighting it.

  As I’m lying in my bed later that evening, I realize that it might be more. I try to put myself in her shoes. What if I had to leave home? What if even though I was making friends with everyone here, I knew I was lying to them. She said she hates having to lie to people. It’s got to be hard for her. Tonight, although amazing, ended with her leaving pissed off.

  She’s probably not going to trust—let alone, let herself love—someone who does nothing but piss her off.

  I need to be her friend first, I think, if I want to become her everything.

  Wednesday, September 28th

  Stop grinning.

  French

  Back in French and Keatyn hasn’t spoken to me at all day. So I’m surprised when she spins around and says to me, “Isn’t Logan one of your best friends?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “I heard he’s trying out for the part of the Bad Prince.”

  I can’t help but frown as I nod yes. Logan really wants the part. Probably because he will act like a playboy in it. And he’ll be kissing numerous girls on stage.

  “Is he nice?”

  “Logan?” I ask.

  “Yeah. He’s in my math class. Sits right in front of me. He has a nice looking back, but that’s all I know about him. I tried to talk to him yesterday about the play. I don’t think he likes me.” She sighs. “And I’m not sure why.”

  “Uh, that’s probably my fault,” I reply, knowing full well why he doesn’t like her.

  “Your fault?”

  I push my pencil around in a tight circular motion before raising my head. I don’t want to answer this question. But, if I want her to be honest with me, I suppose I need to be honest in return. “I may have told him about some of my past frustrations with you.”

  “So he hates me,” she says flatly, putting her head down and turning back around.

  Once again, she’s mad at me.

  Annie looks over at her. “What’s wrong? You look like you’re going to cry.”

  I can tell by her motion that she wipes tears away, but she replies, “I think I have something in my eye.”

  I lean up and whisper in her ear. “He doesn’t hate you.”

  She quickly turns back around, anger written all over her face.

  “You must have had wonderful things to say about me to make him hate me when he doesn’t even know me.”

  “He thinks you kind of played me.”

  “Played you? Are you kidding me? You’re the one who got all pissed off and didn’t call.”

  “He’s also sort of down on love.”

  “That must be why he wants to play the Bad Prince. He’ll get to be the cynic.”

  I nod, agreeing. “He is kind of cynical about love.”

  She gazes into my eyes and, I swear, all I see reflected there is love—no trace of anger, just maybe a little bit of hurt. She sits up straighter and changes the subject. “I think it’s funny that Jake is trying out for the part of the Good Prince. He’s so not good.”

  “He’s a Prefect,” I counter.

  She grins. “Yeah, but he’s naughty.” I can be naughty too, Keatyn, I think. “I love that about him.”

  Love. “You said that so easily.”

  “Said what?”

  “That you love him.”

  “Well, not in love. That’s different.” It sure is.

  “Have you told Dawson you love him yet?”

  She fidgets nervously. “I told him that I’m ready for the key.”

  “That’s not what I asked.” Is it bad that I want to shout for joy? That I’m thrilled she isn’t ready to say she loves him, because it just might mean that she’s in love with me.

  “Well, that’s all I’m answering because it’s none of your business what I say to him.”

  I can’t help but smile. Big.

  “Stop grinning,” she says, swiveling back around in her seat. “It’s annoying.”

  And awesome.

  Feel like giving up.

  Late

  I’m in my room studying when my sister calls me.

  “Hey, what’s up?”

  “Just studying.”

  “Can we party in your room tonight?”

  “I’m tired, Peyton. I don’t really feel like partying. I just want to go to bed.”

  “Aiden, I really need to blow off some steam. Please,” she begs. “You can go sleep in Bryce’s room if you don’t feel like partying. You do that all the time.”

  “Why should I?”

  “Because you love your sister?”

  I look up at the stars on the ceiling. No one has seen them, and I want to keep it that way.

  “Who’s all coming?”

  “You know, the usual. Dawson, Keatyn, Jake, Whitney, Bryce, and whoever else I feel like hanging out with.”

  I glance at the clock. It’s already past curfew. That doesn’t give me much time.

  “Sure,” I say, giving in.

  I put my homework down and set up the ladder. With each star I pull from the ceiling, I think about all the memories I’ve had with Keatyn this year in my room already.

  Maybe I should tell her they were for her.

  Only for her.

  I’m tempted to throw them away, but I just can’t. It’s like admitting defeat so, instead, I pack them all away in a shoebox.

  I’m putting them in the closet when my sister barges into my room.

  “I thought you were tired?” she says. “Change your mind? Let’s do a shot before everyone gets here.”

  “Naw. I’m still not finished with my homework.” I pick up my notebook and head toward the door. “Have fun tonight.”

  She gives me a hug as I’m leaving. “You’re seriously the best brother ever.”

  I go across the hall to Bryce’s room, feeling depressed. You’d think looking at the stars every night would be what would depress me, but for some strange reason they sort of gave me hope.

  “You’re not partying with us?” Bryce asks, upon seeing my arms full of books.

  “Too much homework,” I lie, but really, I don’t want to see Keatyn and Dawson all lovey dovey. It’s one thing to have to endure it at school, but another thing entirely in my room.

  He grabs a bottle of rum and heads out the d
oor. “Come over after you’re finished.”

  I’m trying to concentrate on my French assignment, but I can hear their voices.

  Hear Keatyn’s laughter.

  Sometimes I feel like giving up.

  I tear a page out of my notebook and write on it.

  Why should I bother?

  I lie here and think about it while doodling on the page. Why should I?

  I can’t come up with a good answer, so I write down my vocabulary words, making sure I know how to spell each one. Then I go back to doodling.

  I hear her laughter again, the melody like a song that plays over and over in my head. If I could hear her laugh every day of my life, I would die a happy man.

  Then I remember what she said the other day. About how we were love at first sight. Until that moment, I didn’t know if she felt it too.

  I look up the translation for my answer in French and add it to the paper.

  Elle ressentait la même chose.

  She felt the same way. That’s why I couldn’t throw the stars away. That’s why I can’t lose hope.

  I close my eyes for a moment and remember.

  A few hours later, I wake up in total darkness with the covers pulled up around my shoulders. I click on the lamp. My French notebook, which was on my lap when I fell asleep, is on Bryce’s desk.

  I notice the pencil holder is tipped over and all the pencils on the desk. I get up and look at the alcohol stash and notice that the cake vodka I started buying just because she loves it is gone.

  But then I panic, remembering what I had written before I went to sleep. I grab the workbook and find it shoved between the pages. Thank goodness.

  I smile, imagining her turning off the light and covering me up.

  Which is really kinda sweet.

  Thursday, September 29th

  Who was that?

  6pm

  “You should come watch us try out,” Logan tells me as we’re finishing up an early dinner.

  “For the play?”

  “Yeah,” he says.

  Alicia, who even though Logan has told her he’s going stag to Homecoming hasn’t stopped sitting with us, says, “I’ll come watch you, Logan. And then I’ll be cheering for you at the JV game tonight.”

  “That’s great,” he says without even a smile. I can tell he’s already sick of her clinginess.

  We all head to the theater, and I watch both he and Nick try out. I’m going to leave with him until I see the list of names and times each person is set to tryout. Keatyn is coming up soon. At seven.

  “Hey, I’ll see you later,” I tell Logan as he leaves. He’s running late and doesn’t argue.

  A short time later, someone calls out, “Keatyn Monroe.”

  Keatyn walks up onto the stage dressed in a swingy floral print skirt, a lace top, and cowboy boots. She looks like the sweet Texas girl she’s supposed to play.

  While others haven’t completely memorized their lines, she doesn’t have a note in sight.

  I say a little prayer that she will do a good job.

  But from the second she says her first line, it’s clear that she’s better than good. Everyone who has been watching auditions knows it. They stop whispering and watch, drawn in by the ease of which she has become the Cheerleader Bachelorette.

  Her voice even sounds different as she speaks in an authentic sounding Texas accent. It’s like she’s become a different person. Her demeanor, even her face, is softer. I almost start laughing when she puts her hand on her hip. When she does that, it usually means she’s mad at me.

  But on stage, it shows the character’s sassy side.

  It’s amazing, really.

  When she comes off the stage, she’s beaming. It’s easy to see it’s where she belongs. Which considering who her mom is, it shouldn’t surprise me, but it does. She's amazing.

  She stops and types on her phone and then works her way to the back of the darkened auditorium where I’m sitting.

  “Are you trying out?” she whispers as she takes a seat next to me.

  “No, I watched Logan and Nick try out earlier. They had to get to the JV game. I decided to stay and watch for a while.”

  “Shouldn’t you be there, too?”

  “Cole was the starting receiver, and he got hurt, so I’m filling in for him and will only be playing Varsity for a while.”

  “That’s exciting. Congrats.”

  I cock my head and study her. “So just who was that up there?”

  “What do you mean?” she asks, frowning. “Oh my gosh, did I suck?”

  I smile at her and shake my head. “No, you didn’t suck. It was like watching a different person. The accent. The way you flipped your hair. And you put your hand on your hip when she was being sassy. You only do that in real life when you’re mad. You even held your jaw differently. Like, not as tight as usual and your face looked softer. Sweeter, maybe.”

  She gives me a dazzling smile. One that lights up the darkened corner we’re in. “That’s because she’s not a bitch like I am.”

  “You’re not a bitch.”

  “No? But I can play one.” She straightens her back, tilts her chin, and looks down upon me. Then she rolls her shoulders forward and looks at me defiantly.

  “Damn, you haven’t even said anything yet, and I’m already scared,” I tease. I study her face. “You know, you have a very expressive face.”

  “Thank you,” she says.

  “You belong up there. On stage. You made it look completely effortless, like you’re a natural.” Now would be the perfect time for her to tell me about her actress mom and her model dad.

  But she doesn’t.

  Why doesn’t she?

  Instead, she nods her head and whispers so softly, I’m not even sure if she means for me to hear it. “I think it’s what I want to do. Like, for a living. Like, if I’m good enough.”

  I want to pull her into my arms and tell her I know the truth. I want to tell her that I know it’s probably hard to follow in her mother’s footsteps. Because that would be a lot of pressure, now that I think about it.

  “If I didn’t need you here to tutor me, I’d suggest you quit school, go to Hollywood, and start auditioning. I’m serious, Keatyn.”

  “Um, uh, thanks,” she stammers, getting unusually tongue-tied. “But I think I need some practice first. Some classes, maybe.”

  “Well, I know you’ll get the part.”

  “You can't know that. I was the first one to audition for it.”

  “Why did you pick that role and not the lead?”

  “I like how she affects the story, I guess. I like how she has to follow her heart and how she finds true love. How even though the Bad Prince tries to keep her and the Good Prince apart, their love prevails.”

  I let out a deep growl, some primal urge overcoming me. I want to be her Good Prince.

  “I always knew you were a romantic at heart,” I say, trying to cover it up.

  She changes the subject.

  “I’ve heard it’s hard to be an actress. Dealing with the paparazzi. The filming locations. Kissing your cast mates. I can see why Dawson is having a hard time with it.”

  He’s having a hard time with it? Awesome.

  I lean closer to her and rest my hand on her knee. “Dawson should be here supporting you. And if he had come, he’d know. It’s not you up there.” Electric shivers shoot from her leg up my hand, making it hard for me to think straight. “You know, I’d love to watch you walk the red carpet someday.”

  Her pupils are wide, and she’s looking a little crazed.

  But then again, my hand is on her knee, and I’m feeling a little crazed myself. There’s no denying our chemistry.

  “You’ll walk the red carpet with me?” she asks, looking confused now.

  I smile broadly. “I said I’d watch you walk it, but if you're offering . . .”

  “Oh. I, um, just, you know, a hot guy in a black suit is, um, well, it’s like the ultimate accessory.”


  I can’t help but grin. “It’s agreed then. I’ll be your arm candy.”

  I lean back in my seat and watch the next audition, allowing what I told her time to sink in. When she grabs the key necklace that she’s now wearing and slides it back and forth across her chin, I know that she’s thinking about me. Or trying not to think about me.

  We watch the rest of the auditions in silence.

  Friday, September 30th

  Something to keep.

  French

  My days seem to revolve around waiting for French class. And especially today.

  She slides into her desk just before the tardy bell rings.

  “Congrats on the play. I told you you’d get the part.”

  She flips around. “What do you mean?”

  “Didn’t you hear the cast announcement at lunch?”

  “No! I skipped lunch. I was helping your sister with some Social Committee stuff. Well, sorta.”

  “You’re playing the part of the Cheerleader Bachelorette.”

  She lets out a loud shrill. “Ahhhh!”

  Miss Praline goes, “Keatyn?”

  She flips toward the front of the class. “I can’t help it. I’m so excited!”

  I explain, “She just found out she got the role she wanted in the school play.”

  “Well, that’s nice, Miss Monroe,” Miss Praline says. “Congratulations.”

  “I’m excited for you, Keatyn,” Annie says. “But I’m even more excited for tomorrow.”

  She grabs Annie’s arm. “Oh, I didn’t tell you about tonight, did I? Riley is going to ask Ariela right before the game. We’re writing Homecoming? on a football, and he’s going to pass it to her during warm-ups.”

  “Oh, that’s so cute!” Annie gushes.

  “And she’ll be able to keep the football. I kind of wish I had something to keep.”