Stalk Me

“We still might ditch you.”

“No way,” Riley counters.

Dallas agrees, ruffles my hair, and says, “Yeah, now you’re, like, our mascot.”

“You have a nickname?” Riley asks.

“Um, my little sisters call me Kiki. Like key, key.”

“Kiki is a stripper name,” one of the freshmen boys chimes in.

“Uh, you’re not go

He scowls. “Fine. What’s your last name?”

I go blank. Forget my line. Shit. What is my last name?

If this were really the movie of my life, a stagehand would whisper it to me. Would it be weird if I wrote it on my hand?

“Um, Monroe.” I finally remember.

“K-mon?” a freshman suggests.

“That’s dumb,” Dallas tells him.

Riley says, “Well, Kiki it is then.”

 Omg!

Seriously? Why did I open my mouth about Kiki? It totally sounds like a stripper name. And yeah, I want to get noticed, but I don’t want the boys to think I’m some strip tease slut.

My next girlfriend.

5:15pm

I get my room assignment and meet my roommate. Her name is Morgan. She’s also a new junior. She told me some story about a nasty divorce, that she plans on trying out for the debate team, that she plays a mean clarinet, and that she hopes to get on the student council.

It said in our packets that election campaigns start soon. I think I just decided to run. For president, maybe.

Crazy teen movie girl would do that.

And she’d win, and we’d all sit there in theater thinking, Yeah right; that never happens in real life.

But maybe it can. I can do it. I was always interested in Student Council, but Vanessa told me it wouldn’t be cool to run for something like that. She said men are threatened by powerful woman.

I didn’t really want to be powerful—I just wanted to help plan some dances and parties. But then Sander decided to run so, instead, I became a trophy and looked good on his arm.

I threw him a big Sander Volleyball Tournament. Get it . . . Sander: Sand? It was cute. We brought in all sorts of hot, bikini-clad girls and buff, shirtless guys to serve food and flirt with the guests. He won President by a landslide.

I think I will run. Worst case, I lose and get to know some people in the process.

Brooklyn’s zen shit must have rubbed off on me.

Morgan and I go to di

A girl walks up to me. A girl that is so freaking beautiful, her skin belongs in a Cover Girl ad.

“Hey, I’m Peyton. Sweet moves on the soccer field today. You totally scored on my brother. It was awesome.”

“The goalie was your brother?” I look at her closer and realize perfection runs in the family. I can still see the goalie if I close my eyes. The shock on his beautiful face, the stiffness of that chiseled jaw, the surprise in his brilliant green eyes as the ball sailed right by his gloved hand.

“Yeah, can you tell? Everyone says we look alike.”

I laugh. “It all happened pretty fast, but yeah, now that I know, I can tell.”

“Well, hopefully you can also tell me you’re trying out for the soccer team. I’m team captain this year.”

“Really? And yeah, I was pla

“Cool. See you tomorrow afternoon. Oh, hey, what’s your name?”

“Oh, sorry, it’s Keatyn.”

“Cool name. I think you’re in my student advisor group tomorrow. I get to show you all around school.”

“Can’t wait.” I don’t hide my lack of excitement.

“Don't worry. I’m not go

For a second, I feel a longing to be popular.

A longing to sit at that table.

But, no. I’m not doing that here.

That’s the table I’ll be avoiding at all costs. I am never going to sit there.

The gorgeous brunette catches my eye, and I get the feeling that I’m being sized up as a threat. Her glare is very calculating, not at all like Peyton’s. And I already know. She’s the Queen of the table. She’s the Vanessa of this school.

I suddenly feel a little awkward.

Okay, I feel a lot awkward.

I try to smile and look confident while I look around and figure out where I’m going to sit. Do I go sit by some people I don't even know and introduce myself? Should I sit by myself? What would cool movie girl do?

I spot Dallas, and he waves me over.

I weave my way through the tables toward him. All of a sudden, the God of All Hotties, brother of Peyton, is standing in front of me blocking my way.

“Sweet moves.” He looks down at my boots. “I don’t think I've ever seen anyone play soccer in cowboy boots.”

He laughs. He has an easy, sexy laugh.

It makes me miss Brooklyn.

He’s so easy to make laugh. Okay, so, granted, he’s high a lot, and that makes him think things are fu

I pretend like I don’t recognize him. “Were you out there today? Like on the soccer field?”

“Uh, yeah.” He looks offended. “I was the goalie.”

“Oh, wow, so that was you, huh?” This guy is almost too perfect-looking to be real. I doubt he has any trouble getting girls, probably has a huge ego, and probably is heading to the popular table as we speak.

Don’t want any part of that.

“Yeah,” he says, just a bit awkwardly.

“So, wait. You’re Peyton’s brother?”

“Guilty,” he says, holding up his hands.

“She’s gorgeous.”

“You’re pretty gorgeous yourself. And you have a mean kick. I’m curious. What possessed you to run out on the field like that?”

Did he just call me gorgeous?!

OMG!

Calmness, ze

Please!

“Oh,” I awkwardly giggle. “I don’t know. Just saw the ball and felt like it. Sorry. It was probably stupid of me. I guess I just got caught up in the moment.”

“I liked it, even though you made me miss.” He stands just a little closer to me and lowers his voice. “Well, really, you kinda embarrassed me. I don’t usually miss. But you—I couldn’t stop looking at you. I kinda forgot about the ball until it was whooshing by my head.”

“I think you were just shocked to see a girl ru

“That’s for sure. Not something you see every day around here. But I hope I get to see you more.”

“Really?”

His gorgeous green eyes are practically drilling their way into my soul as we speak.

I’m not going to swoon. I’m not going to act like probably every other girl acts in the presence of a hottie god. I’m going to walk away before I make a fool of myself.

But I can’t seem to make my feet move; instead, I stare at him. At the short blonde hair that is perfectly—almost artfully—messed up on the top. At those gorgeous green eyes. At his perfect smile.

I manage to say, “Hey, it was nice to meet you.”

I attempt to squeeze around his tall, perfect chest, but my body brushes against his, and I almost jump from the surge of electricity.

I get around him and quickly walk over to sit in the relative safety of the boys’ table.

“See you were talking to Aiden,” Riley says.

“Who’s Aiden?” I’m still in a bit of a daze. I mean, who could blame me? I was just touched by a god.

“The guy you were just talking to. The goalie from today?”

“Oh, yeah. I guess,” I shrug.

“You should know he’s a total player.” Riley tells me this like it’s something I really need to know. Which kinda pisses me off.