Stalk Me

I smile at him and try to push back happy tears. “I know.”

He breaks out his naughty Cushman grin and says, “So, you’re single. I’m single. Let’s mingle.”

I laugh. He always makes me laugh.

The front door swings open and Brooklyn walks in.

I stand up quickly, knowing I look like Gracie does when she gets caught sneaking Hershey’s kisses out of the pantry.

Brooklyn walks in the living room and sits down in the chair across from the couch Cush and I were just kissing on.

“Found my wallet,” he says, holding it up in the air.

Yes. This is awkward.

“Um, Brooklyn, so this is Cush.”

Brooklyn’s eyes can’t hide his recognition of Cush’s name. The boy I lost my virginity to.

Cush stands up and puts his hand out to shake Brooklyn’s. He’s such a gentleman. “Nice to meet you,” he says. “I’ve been hearing all about your summer.”

Although he is looking straight at Brooklyn, I know his comment was meant for me. Reminding me that although the summer was great, it’s not really shaping up the way I thought it would. That he still loves me. That he wants to go out with me. That Brooklyn hasn’t asked me to go out with him all summer long.

“It was pretty great,” Brooklyn says.

Then there’s an awkward silence as the boys stare at each other.

I have no freaking idea what to say.

Um.

Um.

What should I say?

I swear, every useful, random thought has left my brain. All I can think about are the two boys who are now sitting in front of me.

About how I’ll have to choose.

About how I’m pretty sure I already have.

Thankfully, Mom and Tommy walk in.

“Brandon,” Mom says just as the doorbell rings. “I think you’ve grown this summer.”

“I’ll get it!” I say, a little too enthusiastically.

I’ve been praying Vanessa and RiA

But instead, I open the door and see Sander.

“Sweetheart, happy birthday,” he says, laying kisses on both my cheeks.

Ohmigawd, what was I thinking? All three of the boys I’ve dated, together in the same room? Why can’t I be like Vanessa? Love them and leave them?

“Abby!” Sander gives my mom’s cheeks the same treatment.

“Sander, honey, how is Grease going?” Mom says.

Thankfully, Sander is very comfortable in the spotlight. We hear all about filming. More than any of us really wanted to know. He even shows us the new dance number for “Grease Lighting.”

I pretend to be thoroughly enthralled by his rendition. I don’t even cringe when Mom starts doing it with him.

I just try to think.

What the hell am I going to do?

Brooklyn was right. You can’t run away from your problems because eventually they come and find you.

And apparently all of mine decided to show up tonight.

I look at Tommy laughing as Mom dances. Mom says Tommy makes her a better person. That he encourages her to grow and laugh and live. That he’s always there for her. She says she loved my dad deeply, but that they had a more volatile relationship. That they could both be stubborn and would fight to get their way instead of working together. That he expected her movie career to take a backseat to his modeling. How when she had me, he suggested that she quit acting altogether. How they fought about her taking me on sets because he thought I wasn’t going to grow up normal.

He might have been right, but I’m glad Mom won that fight. I would never change my childhood. All the stuff I got to experience. All the places I’ve been.

Really, it was my stupid crush on the actor in High School Musical that caused all this. Caused me to want to go to high school. Caused me to question who I am.

Damn Disney, and all their happily-ever-after, unrealistic, bullshit stories.

I think back to my conversation with Grandpa this summer. When he asked me who I want to be.

Who do I want to be?

Mom says she and Tommy are a team. I don’t feel that way about Brooklyn and me. Brooklyn pretty much decides what’s cool and chill, and that’s what we do.

Cush and I are a team.

Sander finishes his dance and says to me, “Can I speak to you in private for a minute, sweetheart?”

My eyes get big, but I look down so no one notices.

“Uh, sure,” I say and lead him back to my sitting room.

“I have something important to tell you,” he says.

Please, do not tell me you are in love with me, I plead with him telepathically. My brain may literally explode if you do, and that would not be a good way to start my birthday party. 

I can’t say what I’m thinking, so I just nod my head.

“Look, I trust you. You know the movie industry, and I know you will understand and not be mad at me.”

“Mad at you? What did you do?”

“I lied to you.”

“Lied to me about what?”

He sighs, sits on my couch, and looks like he’s trying to get his courage up. “I don’t really want to wait until I get married.”

Is he serious? Ohmigawd. I seriously might just faint. Is he saying he wants to sleep with me? Now?!

“Oh,” I say, mostly because I can’t come up with anything else.

“Any other guy would’ve had sex with you. You’re such a beautiful person, and you’re very sexy. I just wasn’t attracted to you.”

What?!

Oh, great!

Happy fucking birthday, Keatyn. Just thought I’d let you know that I didn’t sleep with you because you aren’t attractive enough. Have a great day!

“Oh,” I say again and lower my head. What the hell am I supposed to say to that?

He lifts my chin up, so I am forced to look at him. “Sweetheart, I’m gay.”

“What? No. Seriously?”

“I’m pretty sure, yes. Actually, I know I am. I just can’t tell anyone. I’m afraid it would ruin my career. All those little teenyboppers that are go

“Why didn’t you tell me? I thought I wasn’t sexy enough. I thought it was me!!”

“Obviously, it wasn’t you. It was me. I’m really sorry about that. I’ve been going through a lot. Why do you think I always drank so much when I was with you? I was trying to pretend I wasn’t gay, but it’s who I am. And this is going to sound odd, but thank you. I knew if I wasn’t attracted to someone like you, I must be gay. I wasn’t trying to trick you or anything, and I really do adore you.”

He wanted the perfect high school script just like I did. It didn’t matter that we were completely wrong for each other. I crushed on Brooklyn the entire time I was with him. I was just as fake as he was. Hard to condemn him for that.

I also take note of his comment, It’s who I am. 

I hug Sander tightly. “It’ll be our little secret,” I tell him.

As we’re walking out of my room, I see the locket James gave me for my birthday sitting on my dresser. I put it around my neck and silently tell my dad I miss him.

All bullshit aside, I did.

11:30pm

The party is in full swing, and everyone is dancing. Brooklyn and I are sitting off to the side of the dance floor on some lounge furniture with a bunch of the guys we surf with. I had hoped they would all be out dancing and meeting new people, but Brooklyn’s telling them all about his Summer of Waves, as he is now calling it.

Personally, I would have named it the Summer of Love, but what the hell do I know?

He goes on about what makes one wave or surfing location better than another.

I look out at everyone having fun dancing.

I stand up in front of him

“Come dance with me.”

“You know I don't like this kind of music,” he says, dismissing me and continuing his story.

The guys are listening intently, like he’s the God of All Surfers. Seriously. They’re practically bowing to him, and he's loving it. Loving being in his own little spotlight.