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I think about how much I’ve grown in the time I’ve known Brooklyn.
I now stand five foot nine inches tall. I’m tan and in good shape from a combination of surfing, kickboxing workouts with Tommy, dance classes, and soccer practices.
I bought this bikini a few years ago in France. It was the bikini I always pictured myself wearing in the scenes I wrote. I thought that if Brooklyn saw me in this bikini, he’d stop thinking of me as a little girl and see me as the woman I thought I was.
I chuckle to myself because wearing this bikini is a slam to all that Vanessa holds dear. She would have a fit if she knew I was being seen in a two-year-old bikini.
You know, always worrying about what people think of what you’re wearing can be exhausting sometimes.
And, let’s face it, most boys don’t know if you’re in last season’s bikini or not.
My phone dings and dings. I grab it. Read the texts and Facebook notifications.
Vanessa: WTF! Why in the world would you break up with Sander? He’s the fucking PROM KING!! Do you know how hard we’ve worked for this? And you want to throw it all away?
Vanessa: Fine. So yes, I was hitting on him last night, but I was just doing it because I’m your friend. Wanted to make sure he wasn’t the kind of slime ball that would take me up on it. He passed. Oh, and by the way, I’m still sitting at his table even if you aren’t. Like no hard feelings.
RiA
RiA
I don’t bother to reply. Shouldn’t they ask if I’m okay? Shouldn’t they care more about me than their spot at a lunch table?
My phone buzzes again.
Cush: You’re single. I’m single. Let’s mingle.
His text makes me laugh. Typical Cush.
Me: Mingle? Is that your classier version of Let’s hook up?
Cush: Trying to class it up for you, baby. Hang tonight?
Me: Have plans, but need your support at school on Monday. The bffs are pissed I broke up with Sander. They didn’t even ask how I am. Just wanted to let me know that they are still go
Cush: Deal. But I have a favor.
Me: If you say sexual, I’m go
Cush: Oh, the visuals. I would definitely make you scream ;) But that’s not the favor. It’s that time again.
Me: Your dad in town?
Cush has one of those dads whom he both idolizes and hates. Last year, he asked me to go to di
Cush: He broke off the engagement with Juliette. Has a new one for me to meet. This one’s probably still in diapers.
Me: Of course I’ll go.
Cush: Pick you up at 7. Look hot. It’ll distract him.
Me: You’re bad.
Cush: Most girls tell me I’m good. Wa
I just want you.
9:10am
I walk out onto the deck, grab my board, and head down the beach. Brooklyn’s back is to me, but Mark notices me. He lets out a whistle, but I can tell by his goofy grin that he’s just giving me shit. They treat me like one of the guys, which is probably why I love hanging out with them. They are just so chill about everything.
And high most the time, too, but whatever.
Damian looks up from waxing his board and gives me a wave, then Brooklyn turns around and looks at me. His look is like something out of a movie.
FADE IN: MALIBU BEACH
A FEW PEOPLE ARE SCATTERED ON THE UPSCALE PRIVATE BEACH OF THE MALIBU COLONY. PAN SCENE OF THE GORGEOUS HOMES LINING THE BEACH.
A group of boys are preparing to surf. A blonde girl walks down the beach to join them. She is in a very skimpy bikini. A couple of the boys greet her.
BROOKLYN
(Turns to face Keatyn. His eyes take in her skimpiest bikini. He realizes she’s grown up. She’s not the girl he became friends with. His eyes fill with desire, but he greets her casually.)
Hey, Keats. Surf’s up.
KEATYN
(Walks closer to him. Makes him uncomfortable.)
I see that.
BROOKLYN
Forget surfing. I need to talk to you.
(He drags her up to his bedroom.)
KEATYN
(Pretends to look surprised, but she isn’t. She speaks in a slow, sexy way, plays with her hair, and licks her lips suggestively.)
What did you want to talk about?
BROOKLYN
(Pulls her into his arms.)
I don’t want to talk. I just want you.
(He kisses her and throws her on the bed. They kiss passionately, and then he ravishes her body. She can’t think or speak; she’s so overwhelmed by his touch. He strips off her bikini then they make love.)
(Or maybe they have sex. Whichever one would be hotter.)
(Probably sex.)
(And it wouldn’t hurt. Even though it’s her first time.)
(Because that wouldn’t make it as sexy.)
(And then they would do it again. And like again. Because he can’t control his passion for her. He’s been keeping it locked inside him for far too long.)
(Oh, and be sure to get numerous close up shots of his abs. They really are amazing.)
I picture the scene in my mind as I walk toward him.
It makes me feel sexy.
Desirable.
I walk with a little extra sway in my step, but as usual, Brooklyn refuses to follow a script. The damn boy says, “Hey, Keats. Last one out is a rotten squid.”
So we all run out into the waves like a bunch of fifth graders.
The sun gets hot, the waves die down, and the guys all head out. I strip off my rash guard and catch a few rays, letting the heat dry my bikini.
“Wa
“Sure.”
We’re floating on our boards when I decide it’s the perfect time to tell him the news. I’ve been dying to tell him all morning, but I wanted to wait until we were alone.
So he can finally profess his love for me and all.
“So, I’m officially single.”
“Really?”
“You look surprised.”
“I didn’t think you’d do it. You’re a great girl, Keats. You shouldn’t worry so much about what people think. Maybe if you’d let people at school get to know the real you, like I do, you’d have more real friends. You’re cool. Start acting like it.” He gets distracted by a wave rolling in. “I’m go
Guess the professions of love will have to wait until later.