Hate Me

“Because I said you were dumb?”

“Exactly. And then you went all Alpha Aiden, threw me across your desk and attacked me.”

“Alpha Aiden?”

“Yes, you finally took control. Showed me how you felt. It was hot. Like the kitchen counter. The pool table. Anyway, my legs were spread apart and I could feel you were excited. And the way you were kissing me, I thought maybe we’d do it, you know. Then and there. And I wanted to. I don’t know, my brain just thought Unleash the Titan in the heat of the moment.”

“I wanted you too. But I didn’t want to be . . .”

“I know,” I say, rubbing his hand. “I’m glad now that we didn’t. And I was so freaking happy that you finally kissed me with your tongue that I didn’t care. But, see, if we watch the movie tonight, you’ll know that I got it wrong. The Titans wanted to unleash the Kraken, so that the people would hate the gods, which would, in turn, make them less powerful. So, technically, that should’ve been its name.”

“But in the heat of the moment you couldn’t think straight?”

“Exactly.”

“I like Titan better than Kraken.”

“I do too.”

“Have you ever named a guy’s,” he gestures toward his crotch, “before?”

“No.”

“Even better,” he says with a grin.

Writing the script.

6:25pm

I order Aiden some Chinese food, give him a pain pill, and stare at his beautiful face as he sleeps.

And I know.

Know what I have to do.

Know that I can’t lie to him any more.

That I can’t wait until March to tell him the truth.

That I’m going to tell him after the dance.

In our hotel room.

And that I’m going to do it before we go any further.

I know there’s a definite chance that he’ll hate me.

That he’ll walk away.

That he won’t understand.

But I can’t do it with him until he knows all of me.

I want him to know all of me.

So I spend the rest of the evening writing and rewriting the script.

THE SETTING: HOTEL SUITE AFTER WINTER FORMAL.

AIDEN

(Opening a bottle of champagne)

KEATYN

(Lighting all the votive candles Aiden brought)

(They kiss)

I need to tell you something.

AIDEN

(Sits on the edge of the bed)

What?

KEATYN

(Stands in front of him)

I’ve been lying to you. Actually, I’ve been lying to everyone about something. And I need you to know.

AIDEN

(Looks concerned)

Okay.

KEATYN

I came to Eastbrooke because I was being stalked. My last name isn’t Monroe. Well, technically, it is because it was legally changed, I think. I’m not really sure about that. I used to be Keatyn Douglas. And my mom doesn’t work in oil and gas. But she is in France. And her name is Abby Johnston.

AIDEN

(Stands up in shock)

When I get back to my dorm, I find another present wrapped with a pink ribbon.

I open it and find a teeny pair of boy short undies with two words written across the butt.

I smile at them, now certain Riley is my naughty Santa, and pack them in my bag to wear tomorrow night.

Then I work on a special gift for Vincent.

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 15TH

For being you.

7:25am

Aiden stops by my dorm before he goes to breakfast.

He sees me dressed in normal clothes as opposed to my uniform and says, “I forgot you’re going back to California today. Are you sure it’s safe?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” he asks sweetly.

I smile at him, remembering the last time I saw my dad. I wonder if he would’ve done anything differently if he had known it would be the last time he’d ever see me.

“No, Aiden. But I want to thank you.”

“For what?”

What do I say? What are the last words I want him to remember?

“For being you, Aiden. For being everything.” I turn away, pretending to look for a bracelet because I’m not able to look into his beautiful green eyes.

He turns my chin toward him. “You’re coming back, right?”

“I sure hope so,” I say with a grin, trying to making light of it.

“I hope so too,” he says, kissing my forehead.

I hug him tightly, kiss him passionately, and then watch as he limps up the hill toward class.

I go back into the privacy of my room and make a few more phone calls.

It’s perfectly perfect.

10:30am

Cooper texts me as I’m en route to the airport.

Cooper:  I don’t like this. I should be going with you.

Me:  I’m meeting Sam. Just have to sign papers dealing with this takeover. He has power of attorney, but it’s limited and doesn’t cover this.

Okay, so I’m lying to him, but only about why I’m meeting Sam.

But why I’m meeting him is too personal to share with Cooper.

He’d say I’m admitting defeat.

But I want to be prepared.

Just in case.

Cooper:  Still . . . 

Me:  Your flight lands in L.A. before mine does. I’m wearing the wig and the flight is booked under your name. I’ll see you when I get there. 

Cooper:  You swear to me you’re going to see Sam?

Me:  I swear. Plus, I don’t think it would be smart to both miss school on the same day. 

Cooper:  True. All right. See you tonight.

On the plane, I look at a magazine that Peyton gave me last night at di

Shit.

But then I look at the caption and realize that you can’t clearly see her face in either photo.

Damian Moran, lead singer of the hottest new band on the planet, Twisted Dreams, was seen this past weekend with another blonde on his arm. And this blonde apparently held his attention for the entire weekend. Who is this gorgeous mystery girl? Can she tie down the playboy? And, come on, Damian, how about some equal opportunity for us brunettes? 

I’m really thankful they’re spending the holiday in St. Croix, where there are no photographers.

And I pray Damian will keep their relationship a secret until March.

I roll the magazine up and carefully put it in my backpack next to the brunette wig.

I’m not wearing the wig for this part of the journey.

I’m just me.

I have to be.

I close my eyes and listen to music during the long flight, arrive on schedule, and hop in Sam’s rental car.

We drive for about thirty minutes through what I think is one of the most beautiful parts of the country.

Hilly. Lush. Green. Blue sky.

Sam turns onto a dirt road, winds up a hill, and says, “This is the spot.”

I nod, understanding and taking it in.

He stops the car on a large flat area. “Is this what you were envisioning?”