Love Me

He looks at me very seriously. “I don’t want to take away your confidence, but I’ve studied your file and listened to your side of the story. You got lucky. Plain and simple. You got especially lucky in Miami. You’ve been in situations where you’ve been able to run. What will you do if you can’t run?”

My hands start to shake and I feel like I’m going to cry. What is he talking about? That’s what Garrett told me to do. To run.

“Um, I’m not sure, but I’m going to be late for dance. If we’re not in the locker room on time, we get in trouble.”

“You’re avoiding the question. Go to dance. Think about it. We’ll discuss your answer, and my plan, tomorrow.”

As I fly out of his office, I collide with Whitney. “Watch where you’re going,” she says snottily.

“I’m sorry. I have to get to dance.”

“Why were you in Mr. Steele’s office?”

“Uh, he just asked me some questions about tomorrow’s competition.”

She raises one eyebrow at me. “For future reference, that’s my job.”

I’m almost late for dance, but I need a minute to breathe.

I walk outside to get some air just as the entire football team barrels out the door and heads down to the field.

I put my head down, push my back up against the building, and try to blend into the brick wall. Fortunately, no one notices me.

Except for Aiden.

He turns around, holds my eyes with that tractor beam of his, but follows the team to the field.

Once they’re out of sight, I allow myself to close my eyes.

I run through the scenarios. Let my mind go to all those scary what-if places.

What would I do if I couldn’t run? If I couldn’t get away?

I’d have to go with him. Figure out how to get away later. Trick him.

But the truth is, I’m not as smart as him. Or as sick. Whatever.

I’ll be okay. I’ll figure it out. I have a lot I want to do with my life.

Maybe that’s part of loving myself. Knowing what I want to do with my life. Having the courage to go for it no matter what. To have that courage even when someone crazy like Vincent is after me.

I feel a forehead lean against mine. “I’m sorry for what I said about the panties in my locker. It was a bad joke,” Aiden says.

I reach out suddenly, wrap my arms around him, and bury my head in his shoulder. He doesn’t hesitate for even a second. He immediately hugs me tightly back.

“Tell me what happened,” he says softly.

“You’re going to get in trouble.”

“I told Coach I forgot my lucky charm and had to go back and get it.”

“You have a lucky charm?”

“Yeah. You. Tell me.”

“It’s been a week since Dawson and I broke up. I’ve been an emotional mess. Tonight, he just told me something that I knew in my heart but really didn’t want to hear.”

“What was that?”

I shake my head. “I don’t want to talk about it, Aiden. Um, I know I’m on the Social Committee and I’m supposed to help sell popcorn before the movie, but I’m not going. Turns out Dawson didn’t want to go anyway.”

“You’ve been crying.”

I nod.

“Tell you what. I’ll take care of the popcorn. You go with your friends.”

“What do you mean?”

“Go to the movie with your girlfriends. You’ll have fun. And don’t you have two prospective students spending the night in your room?”

“Yeah.”

“Show them how much you love Eastbrooke.”

I smile at him.

Because he’s one of the biggest reasons I decided not to run away.

He gives me a sweet kiss on the cheek and says, “Everything will be okay. I promise.”

And for some reason, I believe him.

The perfect ending.

2am

Pressley and Embry have finally stopped giggling and are asleep.

Their enthusiasm is contagious and I had a really fun time too. I’m glad Aiden talked me into going. It was fun to sing along with Katie, Maggie, and Peyton. It was fun watching Maggie and Jake flirt. And it was flat-out fu

I had fun.

But, yet, I didn’t.

I kinda hoped that when Aiden suggested going with my girlfriends it was because he wanted to sit with me.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he spent the night surrounded by cheerleaders. One of whom was Chelsea, the girl who wasn’t taking no for an answer tonight. Maybe that’s why he barely spoke to me and why he hasn’t texted me.

But I have bigger problems than that.

So I get on the internet and look up problem solving.

Hoping it will give me an idea of what to tell Cooper tomorrow.

What I find, though, makes me think of someone else.

The article I’m reading says that you should always try to figure out the root, or cause, of your problem.

I use my phone to light up the picture of Brooklyn then slowly push my covers back, slide my feet into a pair of slippers, carefully step over the girls, shut the door quietly, and go into the stairwell.

I think it’s time to talk to my root.

I pull up his number as a million truths go through my head. Truths that I haven’t wanted to face. Because that would mean taking some of the blame.

I blamed him for everything that went wrong. Got mad because I didn’t think he loved all of me, yet I forced him to do things that weren’t him. And when he got upset about it, I acted like it was his fault. I wanted to change him when I should’ve just loved him. And I did love all of him. I loved the way he made me feel. Our summer of love was the best time of my life. Things were so easy with him. I was so incredibly happy.

It wasn’t until we got to the city and I pushed him out of his comfort zone that we started to fight. That he started to push back. I slide the waistband of my shorts down and stare at my tattoo. I can picture him, walking out of the water, his blue eyes shining as bright as the ocean, an easy smile on his face, his beautiful bronzed skin, his shaggy hair.

He’s always known exactly who he is.

I was the confused one.

He tried to help me. Encouraged me to show the world the girl he loved.

The girl I wanted to be.

I get brave and press his number.

He answers on the fourth ring. “Keats! Hey, how are you?” He sounds like we are old friends. Not people who fought the last time they talked.

“Uh, okay. How are you? You find your balance yet?”

“No. I haven’t. I’ve been wanting to call you.”

“But you haven’t.”

“I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”

“I get now why you needed me to forgive you.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, you figured out it was the root of your problem. I just figured out it might be the root of my problem here as well.”

“What’s your problem there?”

“I met a guy.”

“I’m not sure I want to hear about this.”

“I’m not sure I wanted to watch you make out with a girl and then stand outside a cabana while you screwed her either.”

“Look, before we go any further, I need to explain and I owe you an apology.”

“An apology? Really?”

“Yes, Keats. I owe you an apology. I was hurt. You'd been to school for barely a week and you already had a new guy? Did I mean nothing to you? The girl in the cabana was my childish way of getting back at you. Do you still love me, Keats?”

I want to say yes. I want to be swept away by emotion. I want to fly straight to wherever he is and have an amazing reunion. Write an amazing ending to our love story.

“I owe you an apology too, B. Actually, I owe you a lot of them. I’m sorry I tried to change you. You’ve always known exactly who you are. It’s part of what I love about you. I’m sorry I was so confused about who I wanted to be. I know it’s stupid, but labeling our relationship when we got back from Europe was important to me. Everyone was asking me. The truth is I was proud of you. I wanted to be able to introduce you as my boyfriend. I wanted to tell the world about our amazing summer. I wanted you with me. But then you started saying stuff that made me think you didn’t care.”