Stalk Me

“Really? And you’re not? You’ve been trying to do nothing since we met but convince me of your playing skills, and now you’re condemning him for it?”

Dallas is like, “Dude, she’s got a point.”

Riley quips back, “I’m not a player, Kiki. I just want to settle down with a hot, stripper-named girl on my arm.”

“Shut up. Seriously. Skip the Kiki crap.”

I shove some lasagna into my mouth and wish my mouth was doing something else.

Something with this Aiden boy.

Seriously, what is wrong with me? Why am I drooling over the some random hottie?

No hotties. No popular table. No falling in love.

I eat my food, then go with the boys to the new student mixer. It’s pretty boring, honestly, but I meet some more freshman boys. I’ve decided freshman boys can be really sweet.

Dallas and Riley get bored, so we leave and walk around outside for a bit.

I drop them off at their dorm and am walking to my dorm when I hear, “Hey, Boots!”

Boots?

I turn around, and there is gorgeous goalie boy.

God of all Hotties.

“Are you talking to me?”

“Yeah, you didn't tell me your name, and since you’re wearing those cute cowboy boots, I thought I'd call you Boots.”

“Boots is the name of the monkey on Dora the Explorer.” What? Is he an idiot?

“Who's Dora the Explorer?”

“It’s a kid’s show. Seriously, you've never heard of it? Swiper, no swiping? Backpack? Map? Tico, the squirrel?”

He looks at me with a blank face. “Uh, I don't think so. So . . . ?”

“So, what?”

“Are you go

“Oh, sure.” Then I get a little swagger back. “If you tell me yours first.”

You show me yours; I’ll show you mine is what I wish I could say.

He stares at me for a second, the same way Grandpa looks at a fish he's trying to size up. Seeing if he should throw me back in or not.

He puts his hand out for me to shake and says, “Hi, I'm Aiden."

I smile at him and let out a little nervous laugh.

I'm trying really hard to be cool with this guy.

Because the player comments are totally in my mind.

I don't want to fall for a player and get my heart broken. I just got my heart broken. Twice.

But I told myself I was going to make friends with everyone here, and it wouldn’t be fair of me to discriminate against him just because he’s hot. I should at least be polite, so I say, “I'm Keatyn."

It takes everything I have to let go of his hand when I shake it.

My hand belongs in his.

Forever.

Don’t laugh. I’m serious.

It belongs in his forever.

“Really? I've never known a girl with that name. Only guys.”

I stand there and stare at him, not sure if I'm supposed to be offended or not.

“So, Boots,” he grins. “You have a date for the dance Saturday night?”

“Uh, no. I've only been here for, like, five hours. I don't know very many people yet.”

“Well you've certainly made an impression on the male population.”

I roll my eyes. “I highly doubt that. Unless, of course, their impression is that I'm freaking nuts, because apparently that's what a lot of the girls thought. Or so my roommate tells me.”

He laughs. This laugh is deep and sexy. It’s kind of a growl.

Grrr, baby, grrr.

Yeah, I didn’t say that.

He says, “Freaking hot, yes. Freaking nuts, probably. Freaking adorable, absolutely. Plus, I have a lotta respect for a girl who can score on me.”

Before I can edit myself, I blurt out, “Fu

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“I don't know. I just heard you’re a major player. Usually players don't have much respect for the girls they, uh, score with.”

He narrows his eyes at me. I think I just pissed him off.

It’s cute.

He leans in toward me and sorta breathlessly says, “How do you know it’s not just cuz I haven't met the right girl yet? Maybe I'm really a hopeless romantic, a sensitive soul. I know that doesn't sound very cool, but it’s true. I'm looking for that special girl, so I guess you're right. I figure out pretty quickly if things are good or not. And if they aren't, well then, why waste my time? And I haven’t scored with all the girls I’ve dated. I'm really not all that experienced.”

I laugh out loud in his face.

I didn’t mean to, but I did.

Because, I mean, look at him!

He's freaking gorgeous. Tonight he's got just a bit of blonde stubble on that movie star jaw. And his hair is not messed up from soccer anymore.

“I'm serious. And what about you, stripper Kiki?”

“Hmmm. One, I’m not a stripper. Two, they asked me if I have a nickname, and I stupidly told them that at home my little sisters call me Kiki. Like key key. When they say it, it sounds adorable. When freshman boys say it, it sounds slutty.”

“So maybe we’re both hearing things that aren't exactly true?”

“How many girls did you date last year?”

“Uh.” He hems and haws. Purses his lips. “I went out with eight.”

“That's like one a month. Let me guess, you loved them all?”

He winces. “Well, I heard you have a boyfriend.”

“I did, but when I came here we decided we should go back to being friends. He's my best friend.”

“Good to hear. Cuz you look like my next girlfriend.”

“Oh my gosh, did you really just use a pickup line on me? I thought you said you’re a sensitive soul. More like your soul is full of bullshit.”

“Uh, sorry. I don't know why I just said that. So hey, I gotta go, but save me a dance tomorrow night, kay?”

I give him a flippant, "Sure," along with an eye roll.

He turns and grabs both my hands. "I'm serious." He looks me in the eye, and I swear, I almost faint when he touches me.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Repeat after me:

Do not fall for a player.

Only date nice boys.

No! Don’t date any boys.

Remember the list.

Do not fall in love.

You can not fall for a player.

I could probably kiss him though. Would that be being me?

But then my mind immediately goes to doing him.

Oh, my.

I think I may be suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder or something. I can’t seem to think straight around this guy.

I shake my head a bit, get the cobwebs that seem to have formed in my brain out, and walk back to my dorm.

How not to impress a girl.

8:20pm

Back at the dorm, in the safety of my room, my roommate is already in bed and asleep.

Seriously? Curfew isn’t even until ten-thirty. And I’m still on Pacific time, which means it’s only six at home. I change into a pair of shorts and a sweatshirt then text my mom real quick.

Me:  So, I’m doing good. So far so good. 

Mom:  Any cute boys?

Me:  Mom, I’m having a boy moratorium.

     

Mom:  But, still.

Me:  Yes, I have met some cute boys. One that is so good looking, he should be an actor. He’s like the God of all Hotties. 

     

Mom:  Did you talk to this hottie?

Me:  Yeah, he asked me to go the dance with him tomorrow, but I said no.

     

Mom:  WHY!!!????

Me:  Cuz he’s apparently a player. And I refuse to fall in love again. 

     

Mom:  Players can be fun. You know who was a player before he met me, just saying.

Me:  I’ll keep that in mind. Love you!