Stalk Me

“He only whines about how much time I spend with you and the guys, and everyone at school will think I’m crazy."

"Why do you care so much about what people think? He's not the right guy for you. And look at you. You'll have guys standing in line to take his place."

Did he just give me another compliment?

I look into his eyes. I’ve written so many scenes about those ocean blue eyes. I glance at his lips. The lips I’ve been dying to kiss.

"I don’t think guys will be standing in line,” I say, shaking my head.

“Keats, you’re a very pretty girl. Trust me, lots of guys will.”

There’s the key word in the sentence. Girl. Brooklyn still sees me as the fifteen-year-old girl he first met.

I want so badly to say, Would YOU be standing in line? 

But I don’t.

“My friends will get mad at me.”

"If they were your real friends, they’d want what's best for you. He’s not what’s best for you.”

I know he's right, but still, I like being popular.

Although, I’m embarrassed to admit, sometimes being popular kinda goes to my head. Like the other night at Cush’s party, these sweet freshman girls showed up. Vanessa immediately had her claws out. She made fun of their sundresses and told them they should go home. I just laughed in agreement instead of being nice like I should’ve been.

"I don't know what's best for me anymore, B. What do you do when you get your wish, but then you realize you wished for the wrong thing?” I sigh loudly and lean back in the sand. “There is a guy who I wish would be excited if I broke up with Sander,” I say, sort of to the moon. “But I doubt he will be.”

Ohmigawd!

Did I just say that out loud?

I can't believe I just said that! I'd like to blame it on the alcohol, but I can't. I only had two glasses of champagne.

Brooklyn slowly takes a sip of my beer, licks his lips in the sexiest way ever, and leans back in the sand next to me.

"Maybe if you didn't have a boyfriend, the guy would think he had a shot."

He leans closer to my face. I can't help but look at his mouth. God, I want that mouth. Please let him kiss me. Lying in the sand, under the moonlight, in a beautiful gown, would make for the perfect first kiss scene.

Instead, he gently rubs his thumb across my cheek and looks deeply into my eyes.

“I know you, Keats. You're not the same when you're with your friends. You turn into a high-strung, power-hungry, popularity whore when you’re with them. That's not you. You're my little laid-back surfer girl."

His girl?

Awwww! OMG!

Wait . . . little girl?

Ack! No!

"I don't know who I am anymore. Or even who I want to be. Sometimes I feel like I live two separate lives. When Sander and I started dating, it was my dream come true. All I ever wanted was to be popular, have lots of friends, and date the most popular guy. Now that I have it all, it just feels . . . um . . .” I search for the right word.

“Fake?”

“Kinda. It's like I'm living the movie of my life based on some script I wrote when I was twelve. Actually, I am. I still have the script I wrote. When I thought the best thing in life would be to have a boy kiss me. When I thought being popular and dating the hottest guy would be the key to high school happiness."

I sit back up, fidget with my beer, and pop my toes in and out of the sand. I feel like I’m at a turning point in my life, and I’m just not sure which way I should turn.

He pulls a joint out of his pocket, lights it, and hands it to me.

“You seem really uptight.” His eyes get big, and he grabs my arm. "Did he hurt you? Is that what this is all about?"

“Ha.” I laugh pathetically. “Don’t I wish.”

"You wish?"

I take a hit and then another. Then I start to get tears in my eyes.

Just what I want. The guy I totally crush on to see me all weepy.

He sees my tears, puts his arm around me, and is concerned. “Keats, tell me now. What happened?"

I slam one of my hands down in the sand in frustration. “I just don’t understand it. People say I’m pretty. Guys hit on me at parties and whistle at me on the beach. So why doesn’t Sander want me?”

“What do you mean, he doesn’t want you?”

“Shouldn’t the guy I’ve dated for over a year want to have sex with me? I mean, I can understand that he believes in no sex before marriage, but shouldn’t he at least have a hard time resisting me?”

Brooklyn starts laughing.

I swat his arm. "Stop laughing.” But then I can't help it, and I start laughing too. It’s fu

Or tragic. I’m not sure which.

Or maybe it’s just the weed.

"You've been dating him for over a year.”

“I know. We really haven’t done much more than kiss.”

Brooklyn giggles and takes another hit. "That's awesome. The way he always has his hands all over you, I thought for sure you were doing it.”

"It's not awesome. It's totally embarrassing. It’s like I’m not desirable.”

He grins at me and nods his head up and down. "You should definitely break up with him." Then he stands up and says, “Come on,” pulls me up off the sand, and walks me to my door.

He leans against the mahogany door outside my bedroom. “You’re still coming with me tomorrow night, right?"

“Tomorrow night?” What is tomorrow night?

“Damian’s last gig?”

Duh. “Of course; I wouldn’t miss it. I’m sorry, B. I just have a lot on my mind right now.”

I look up into his eyes.

He smiles, leans in, and kisses the side of my head. Kind of by my temple. While his lips are still lingering close to my ear, he says, "For the record, Keats, you are very desirable."

Then he turns and walks away.

I don't dare move or take a breath. I want to relive his words over and over. I want to feel the spot where his lips touched my face. The fire that I just don't feel when Sander kisses me.

I plan out the scene in my mind. One of the many different scenes I’ve scripted for the story of my life but have yet to live.

FADE IN: MALIBU BEACH HOUSE

THE DECK BATHED IN THE MOONLIGHT.

A young couple says goodnight. The handsome surfer heads home, so the young blonde slips out of her wet and sandy dress. She’s wearing only her bra and panties.

KEATYN

(Lays dress across chaise to dry.)

BROOKLYN

(Comes back up the stairs. Sees her with no dress on. His eyes run hungrily down her body.)

KEATYN

(Shocked and slightly embarrassed at first.)

You’re back.

BROOKLYN

(Swallows hard. Desire fills his eyes.)

KEATYN

(Feeling bold, she takes a step closer to his waiting arms.)

(They share a passionate kiss. The kind of kiss that makes a girl feel desired.)

 (His hands slide down her back, leaving what feels like a trail of fire behind them. The kiss is better than either one had ever imagined.)

BROOKLYN

Break up with him, and be with me.

I stand on the deck, bite my lip, and watch him walk up the beach. I don't care what my friends think. Kisses like that would be worth it.

Who cares if I’m not popular anymore?

Now if only I could get Brooklyn to follow my script. To want to play his role.

I give the beach one last look, then turn and go inside.

I grab one of my mom’s romances off my desk and read the racy parts. I pretend that Brooklyn does all those things to me.