Текст книги "Stalk Me"

Автор книги: Jillian Dodd

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 24 страниц)

Wednesday, August 17th

I mean, hell, no.

1pm

Today I’m sitting by the pool at an exclusive hotel with Vanessa and RiAnne. They called me late last night, told me they had a room and to get my ass over here. So I did.

Brooklyn had already left. He told me I looked amazing in my dress, how horny it made him, and kissed me, but we didn’t have sex. He said he was tired and he didn’t think he should spend the night. Which I really don’t understand. How can you ever be too tired for sex?

I was a little worried that things might be awkward with Vanessa and RiAnne, but they weren’t. We drank champagne, gossiped, and watched the latest Twilight movie. It was surprisingly fun, and Vanessa was surprisingly sweet. This morning we got ourselves all done up and went downstairs for brunch.

Now we’re lying by the pool.

Lying by the pool here, I look much different than when Brooklyn and I laid on the beach in Europe. For one, I look good. My hair is blown out and straightened to perfection. I’m wearing burnished gold earrings that match my gold printed Melissa Odabash triangle bikini, gold bangles on my wrists, a Free People Amalia stone drop collar necklace, my most expensive tortoiseshell aviator sunglasses, and adorable thick-strapped Ralph Lauren sandals.

I feel fantastic. Like my old self. Brooklyn would laugh if he saw me now. I wish he could appreciate my love of clothes a little more. When we’re anywhere near a beach, our relationship is perfect, but when we went on tour with Damian, it wasn’t anything close to perfect.

He laughed at my split ends for God’s sake! Shouldn’t he know that’s not a laughing matter?

Isn’t that kind of like telling a girl her butt does look big when she asks?

You just don’t do it.

I’m not sure what to think about his news last night. I am happy for him. I do want him to pursue his dreams. I just didn’t imagine they would take him away from me.

“Whatcha doing?” RiAnne says to Vanessa, breaking my thoughts.

“I’m texting both Marcus and Rodney. I can’t decide which one I want more. I mean, they’re both hot.”

“Rodney? The short lacrosse player?”

“Oh, Keatyn, you’ve been gone for too long. Rodney grew this summer. He’s a hunky six foot two and has abs to die for. Wait until you see him. He’ll be one of the hottest guys at school this year. And if he’s dating me, well, we know what that will do for his popularity.”

“You should bring him then. Marcus is a jerk.” I turn toward RiAnne. “Who are you bringing, Ri?”

RiAnne lowers her head and shakes it. “I don’t have a date yet.”

“Just ask someone . . . ” I start to say, but Vanessa interrupts me.

“In case you can’t tell, she’s in a funk. I would be too if I’d put on six pounds this summer.”

RiAnne’s eyes get huge then she crosses her arms angrily and pouts.

Vanessa says to RiAnne, “What? Like she hasn’t already noticed on her own? You’re in a bikini.” Then she turns to me. “But you, girl, you’re looking fine. Tan. Fit. Thin. Living on sex, drugs, and rock and roll seems to suit you. Wait. Is that why you’re so happy? You and Damian finally hook up? I mean, I know he’s a director’s son and loaded and all, but he was just playing in dive bars, and now that song about some girl’s eyes is really getting popular. Having him as a boyfriend would be even bigger than Sander. Although, I will admit, when I dated the college guy last year, it kinda sucked not having a bf at school. There’s something to be said for having the hottest accessory of all on your arm.”

I think about the song. The song Damian wrote about how my eyes look when I’m with Brooklyn. Our song. The song he finished recently and quickly released as a single. I need to tell them about Brooklyn. About how I’m bringing him to my party. About how I want them to accept him. I open my mouth to speak.

Vanessa holds her hand up at me. “Hold that thought. RiAnne, take our picture. Get our hot bikini bodies, please.”

RiAnne backs up and takes a few pics and gets Vanessa’s approval. “Perfect. Post that to Facebook and Twitter. Be sure to tag us. Everyone loved our pajama party photos from last night.”

Of course they did. Vanessa was in a teeny black negligee, leaning forward, so that you could see most of her boobs, while I poured champagne into her mouth straight from the bottle. The guys had some specific comments about what kinds of pictures they’d like to see next.

RiAnne nods, fiddles with her phone, and uploads the pics. She’s still pouting, and I don’t blame her. Vanessa didn’t want her in the picture. She finishes with her phone, pops another strawberry in her mouth, and summons the waiter. “I want a burger, well-done, french fries, and a side of ranch.”

Vanessa shakes her head. “She’ll have the cottage cheese plate, please. You can bring the burger and fries to Miss I’m-Back-in-America-After-An-Amazing-Summer-Touring-With-a-Rock-Band.”

“I wasn’t with the band the whole time,” I admit. “I was with Brooklyn all summer. We’re, like, in love. It was the most amazing summer of my life.”

RiAnne says, “Aww, Keatyn, I’m so happy for—”

Vanessa cuts her off again. “Are we talking about the surfer?”

I nod my head.

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“I mean, hell, no. Do you know how hard I worked this summer while you were off playing around? It’s fine if you want to play in the gutter. It’s fine to have a summer fling with the lifeguard. It’s expected. Everyone slums in the summer.”

“Brooklyn is hardly a lifeguard. For God’s sake, his dad is worth like a hundred million.”

Vanessa waves her hand at me. “Okay, whatever. But you're taking Cush to your party, right?”

“No, I’m not. I haven’t talked to him all summer. I don’t even know if he’s coming.”

“He needs to be your date. After what happened with Mandy, you need to show everyone that you’re still together.”

“But we’re not together.”

“You will be once he gets back. Everyone knows you broke up for the summer, because he had to go to his dad’s. But people still expect you to get back together. You’ll be an even bigger couple than you and Sander were. I mean, seriously, you can feel the chemistry you two have together. Use the party to lock that boy down.”

RiAnne is nodding her head in agreement.

“The party is obviously going to be badass,” Vanessa continues, “but the after-party is key. I've been tweaking the guest list all summer.” She grabs her phone. “I’m emailing you the list now. You can forward it to your people.”

My people. As in Kym, who is practically part of the family. This is it. This is where I have to stand up to her. I have to set the right tone for this year. We can be friends, but she isn’t going to tell me what to do. Or who I can date.

“I already have the list of who I'm inviting. It's going to be all my favorite people. The party can be about being popular, but the after-party is gonna be different. The reason I was acting so weird last spring after I broke up with Sander is because I felt like I was living two separate lives. Like I have to act and look and be a certain way when I’m with you. And then I’m completely different with the surfers. I invited all my surfer friends to the after-party and all my best friends from school. I want you to get to know each other. It would mean a lot to me if you to get to know Brooklyn. And, who knows, you might just fall for a surfer yourself. Mark is really cute and so is—”

RiAnne’s face brightens at the thought of a new pool of boys.

Vanessa chomps down on her back teeth. I can tell she’s trying hard to control her temper. “It will never work. And did you not learn your lesson with Mandy? I know it’s been a long summer of surfing, sex, and weed. You relaxed, had fun. It messed with your brain.”

“It didn’t mess with my brain. I love him, and I don’t care what you or anyone else thinks.”

“So you’re going out with him? You’re in a relationship with him? Because I haven’t seen it on Facebook. No one has. Because it’s not there. It was a summer fling. Now, it’s back to reality.”

“Uh, well no, we’re not officially going out. And he told me last night that he’s sort of leaving for a year to go on the pro surfing tour, so I’m not sure what that means exactly as far as our relationship goes.”

Vanessa snorts out a laugh. “You don’t know what that means? Are you fucking blind? It means he already knows it’s over. You need to be with Cush. I didn’t tell you, because I was pissed at you, but you and Cush are good together. Like seriously. Popularity aside. He’s good for you. He wants to make you happy. You should let him.”

“I’m not blind, okay? I just don’t know what it all means.”

“Use your brain, Keatyn,” Vanessa says.

RiAnne agrees. “Yeah, we all know what it means when a guy doesn’t ask you out.”

“And you know what it means,” Vanessa continues. “It means he’s just not that into you.”

I sigh. This is what has been bothering me. “But he says he loves me. Like, all the time.”

Vanessa shakes her head and rolls her eyes big time. “You know how they say that guys think with their dicks?”

I nod tentatively.

“Well, girls have the same problem. Only they think with their hearts, instead of their heads. Your heart might be in love with him, but your brain knows it can’t be like true love, because why?”

RiAnne answers for me. “Because he hasn’t asked you out.”

Vanessa continues. “And he’s leaving you for a year.”

I mutter out, “And he might not come to my party.”

Shit. Nothing like a big fat slice of reality before lunch.

Sadly, everything they’re saying is true, and I didn’t even tell them how bad it was when we were on tour. My eyes start to tear up. I put my fingers into the corners of them under my sunglasses to try and keep them from falling. “I wasn’t happy with Sander. We were best friends, but you guys know there was no passion. No sex. I’ve always sort of scripted out my version of the perfect life. I thought Sander was it. Now I want a new script. One where both sets of my friends could all be friends. Like the surfers could maybe come to Cush’s parties sometimes and stuff.”

But then I think about that. Brooklyn wouldn’t like those parties. He’d get really pissed at me if he saw me dancing on the bar. My mind flashes back to doing shots off Cush’s abs. How he loved to watch me dance. How he told me I needed to be seen in the dress I wore to RiAnne’s party.

RiAnne sits up in her chaise and puts her arm around my shoulder. “We know, and we’re sorry we pushed you to stay with Sander. We’re not perfect.”

Vanessa doesn’t nod her head in agreement, but she says, “You need to go to the party with Cush.”

“A lot could have happened over the summer. His dad took his phone and his Facebook away. He could’ve met someone there. He could have a new girlfriend. And even though Brooklyn isn’t coming to the party, he’ll be at the after-party.”

“That’s perfect,” Vanessa says. “Leave him at home. Listen to me, and listen closely. While you’ve been off playing all summer, I’ve been safeguarding our future.”

“I know. I’m sorry that I didn’t appreciate that. Really, what you did to Mandy was pretty fucking brilliant. It upset me this summer—made me feel like a mean girl—but now I think she deserved it.”

Vanessa gives me a brilliant smile. “Thank you. I thought so myself. I know people always talk shit about me hooking up with a guy that has a girlfriend, but if I’m single, I can do whatever I want. They shouldn’t get mad at me. They should be mad at the guy. He’s the one who cheated. And what she did was pretty sick. I would never, ever stoop so low as to drug a guy. Who would want a guy that didn’t want them? Hell, all I usually have to do is smile at them.”

RiAnne and I giggle at Vanessa’s confidence, but the truth is, that is about all she has to do.

“You need to text Cush. Find out if he’s coming.”

“You think?”

“Hell, yeah.”

Our waiter interrupts us when he sets three bottles of beer on the little table between our chaises.

“Beer, gross,” Vanessa says haughtily. “Do I look like I drink beer?”

Vanessa prefers champagne.

“They aren’t really for you, miss,” he says to Vanessa. He leans down and says discreetly, “From the gentleman at the bar.”

I glance over at the bar and see Vincent holding up a beer and grinning at me.

“Excuse me,” I say to the girls. “I need to go thank someone for the drinks.”

 I don’t bother to put on my cover-up. I mean, we’re at a pool, and he’s seen me in a bikini before.

“Long time no see,” he says, then he tilts his head and gives me a sexy grin.

“What, are you stalking me?” I laugh.

He leans forward and gives me one of those long cheek kisses. “Is it that obvious?” he says in a teasing voice.

“Seriously, it’s great to see you,” I say. Because it really, really is. Vincent looks gorgeous. “So, what are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing. Actually, what I should really ask is where the hell you’ve been? I haven’t seen you on the beach all summer.”

“I was in Europe.”

“You look good. And to answer your question from before, I’m here because I just finished up a lunch meeting. It went well, so I decided to take the rest of the day off. I walked out here to get a beer”—his eyes gaze out at all the women in bikinis—“and enjoy the scenery. Little did I know, you’d be the best part of it.”

I tilt my head at him. “Do you have a room here?”

His eyes trail down my bikini and he puts his hand on my hip. “Why, Miss Douglas, you’re being awfully forward.”

I roll my eyes. “I didn’t mean for me. I meant that’s why you’re really here, isn’t it? You’re looking to get lucky.”

“Like I said. I wanted to celebrate. I also have big news for you.”

“What’s that?”

“The script is done.”

“Really? That’s awesome! When do I get to read it? Can you, like, messenger it to my house? Have you started auditions yet?”

“Not yet. I want to get you locked in first.”

“You wanna lock me in, huh? Then what would you do with me?” I tease.

A look crosses his face. I’m pretty sure he just pictured me in handcuffs. And after reading that hot S&M novel on the plane ride home, I have to admit that thought kinda turns me on. I could play the young, naive girl, and he could play the older, dominant man.

He’s still staring at me, but then he finally chuckles. “I’ve missed you.”

“You’re just saying that because you want me to do your movie.”

“Well, maybe. What did you say before? I need to seduce you?” The words roll off his tongue like silk.

I visibly melt and look at him dreamily.

“The way you said that was pretty sexy. I bet you won’t have any trouble finding company this afternoon. So, hey, thanks for the beers. I better get back to my friends.” Then I remember the house he was trying to buy. “Did you get the house yet?”

“That’s my other good news. We signed a deal and I close next month.”

“Very cool.”

He pulls me into his arms. “Why don’t you come to my room for a little while? We can celebrate, and I can tell you all about the script,” he says in a velvety voice.

“I’m already here celebrating with my friends.”

“And just what are you celebrating?”

“My birthday is this week.”

“Well, happy birthday.”

“Thanks.” I tease him before I walk away. “You know, I’m totally going to be watching you in action. Good luck with finding a uh, roommate.”

When I lie back in my chaise, RiAnne says, “Who is that guy? Is he an actor? Ohmigawd, he is so hot.”

Vanessa says, “He is hot, but isn’t he a bit old for you?”

“You dated that twenty-six year old. He’s not that much older. Um, I never asked you at the time, but was it, like, good with him? Was his being older, like, a benefit in any way?”

She laughs. “If that’s your way of asking if the sex was good, the answer is yes. It was amazing. He knew way more than any high school boy and a lot more than the college guy. Plus, he had way more stamina.”

“Stamina?”

“Yeah, like he could do it for a really long time. Sometimes, he’d go so long, I’d almost get bored. Almost,” she says with a pleased smirk.

“He’s going to be my neighbor,” I tell her with a grin.

“Let me know when he moves in.” She arches a perfect eyebrow at me. “I’d like to give him a special housewarming gift.” Then she nudges me. “Or maybe we can share. He looks like he’d be into that.”

“You’re naughty,” I say with a laugh. Then I take a drink of beer and let my eyes wander back to the bar.

I’ve moved on.

9:30pm

We hung by the pool, had some drinks, had dinner in the bar, then I headed home.

I’m looking forward to taking a long, hot bath and going to sleep early.

I wander into the kitchen to see who’s home. James and my mom are sitting at the kitchen table shaking their heads at each other.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Nothing, honey,” Mom says, but I know she’s lying.

“Abby, I think she needs to know about this. We don’t know what this guy is doing, and this doesn’t make sense. She needs to be on alert too.”

“On alert about what? Is this about the creeper again?”

“Yes,” James says grimly. “Your mom found a letter in her purse. It happened while we were at a cocktail party tonight.”

“Weren’t you there, James? Aren’t you supposed to be watching out for stuff like that?”

“I was there. I don’t know how it happened. She only spoke to people she knew.”

“So does that mean the stalker is someone she knows?” I ask. “I thought it was that weird pale guy?”

“We’ve pretty much ruled him out,” James says.

“Okay, so where were you tonight?”

“We were at an industry cocktail party. We spoke to a ton of people, from actors, to producers, to investors, to agents, to the guys that work the cameras. It was a fundraiser,” Mom tells me.

“And I lowered my guard because of it. I can’t do that again,” James says.

“None of you should lower your guard. So you knew the people at the party; big deal. What about all the waiters? The bartenders? Do you know how easy it would be to pretend to be one of them? He also could have paid someone to slip it in her purse. He wouldn’t have even had to do it himself, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

 “So . . . what did the letter say?”

James slides the letter across the table. I read it.

I’ve been in love with you for a long time, but your nudity and sex scenes in To Maddie with Love disgusted me. 

I was so mad when I saw them, I wanted to fucking kill you. 

To make you pay. 

I thought you should know that I’ve moved on. 

I’ve found someone younger and even more beautiful than you to love.  

Farewell, Abby.

—Y our former biggest fan

“So why are you upset about this? He’s done with you? That’s awesome, isn’t it?”

James stands up and starts pacing. “That’s what I don’t get. For the past fifteen years he’s been professing his love, but it was no big deal, just your basic fan mail. Then it began to sound violent, and he threatened you and the kids. Now we’re supposed to believe that after all this time, this is it? He’s done with you? It just doesn’t add up. What if he just wants us to let our guard down?”

“It really sounds like he’s moved on, James. I was freaked out about how the note got in my purse, but I did leave it on my chair for most of the night. And I know this sounds bad, but I’m glad he’s someone else’s problem.”

“I think we should cancel the party, Abby. There’s going to be six hundred people there. You’re going to be way too exposed.”

“CANCEL MY BIRTHDAY PARTY!? You can’t!”

Mom says, “Don’t be silly, James. We aren’t canceling her party.”

I run over and hug Mom. “Thanks, Mom. James, I know it’s your job to be uptight and on guard and all, but no stalker is gonna crash my birthday party. Especially one who says he’s moving on.”

“Well, I’m doubling the security, and, Abby, you’ll have a two-man team with you at all times.”

“Whatever you think is best,” Mom tells James.

I go in my room, fill my tub with water, get in, and think about my party.

About everything Vanessa and RiAnne said today.

They’re probably right about Brooklyn.

I pull Cush’s number up and send him a quick text. Ask if he’s coming to the party.

He doesn’t reply.

Thursday, August 18th

Commit social suicide?

8:30am

I open my eyes to a bright sunny day. The perfect weather for my birthday.

At midnight, Brooklyn called, woke me up, and told me happy birthday. I thought it was really sweet. And I don’t want to listen to my mind. I want to listen to my heart. My little sisters also came in at like five am, but I was able to go back to sleep.

I text RiAnne and Vanessa and tell them that I took their advice and texted Cush, but that he didn’t bother to reply. I told them I’m going to convince Brooklyn to come to my party, and that I’d like them to make him feel welcome.

I still think my plan will work. My best surfer friends will meet my best school friends, and by the time we head back here for the after-party, they’ll all be new best friends.

In fact, I’m pretty sure that my life is going to be perfect.

My phone vibrates with a text.

Vanessa:  Are you trying to commit social suicide?

Okay, maybe not so perfect.

I should reply, say something snarky back, but I’m not going to. I don’t care if dating Brooklyn is social suicide. I love him.

And I really believe if they get to know him, they will see why.

I grab a bikini out of a drawer and pull it on.

I’m meeting Brooklyn in a few minutes. We’re gonna catch a few waves, and then he has something planned for my birthday.

Brooklyn isn’t on the beach yet, but I’m feeling so happy that I skip up the beach and start doing cartwheels in the surf. These next few days are going to be practically magical, I’m just sure of it. And it could be months before Brooklyn gets everything together and actually leaves.

A big wave comes in and knocks me down into the sand in the middle of my cartwheel.

I laugh, get up, and do it again.

“I might have to add a scene like that to our movie,” I hear a voice say. I turn around and see Vincent. He’s dressed casually in a Ralph Lauren swimsuit and a white t-shirt.

“You seem awfully chipper today.”

“Of course I am. Today’s my birthday.”

He walks closer to me, pulls me into a hug, and kisses my cheek. “Well, happy birthday.”

 We sit down in the sand.

“Thanks. Sooooo . . .you’re here on the beach in a swimsuit. How come?”

“The guy I’m purchasing the property from is an older gentleman. He wants to teach me everything. The funny thing is, I don’t think he knows. From what I can tell, he hires everything out. I think he’s lonely. He also gets up at the ass crack of dawn. I’ve been here since six-thirty and had four cups of the worst coffee of my life. Honestly, from what I can tell, his big excitement of the day is watching the women jog down the beach in the morning. I’m pretty sure that’s why he gets up so damn early.”

I laugh at his story. “That’s funny. You’re sweet to do that. Spend time with him like that.” But then I think about what he just said about the guy. How my mom often jogs on the beach in the morning all by herself. Could an old guy like that be the one creeping on her? I make a mental note to tell James about him.

Vincent rolls his eyes. “It’s not really sweet. I just don’t want him to back out of our deal. So we didn’t get to talk much the other day. How was being in Europe all summer?”

“I think we should talk about the rest of your afternoon. You stayed at the bar for a long time. Anything happen after I left?”

He gives me a sly grin. “That’s none of your business.”

“That means yes.”

“You were going to tell me about your summer?”

“Oh, yeah, it was great! Brooklyn and I surfed what are supposed to be some of Europe’s best waves. Then we hung out with Twisted Dreams on their tour. Remember, you were at the Undertow the night of their farewell concert? The lead singer, Damian, is one of my best friends. I’ve known him since I was little. Really, it was the best summer of my life.”

I realize Vincent isn’t really paying much attention to what I’m saying. He seems to be lost in thought.

“Earth to Vincent,” I say.

He blinks his eyes quickly. “Sorry, we’re here on the beach. My mind is going. I’m picturing scenes. Stand up for me, would you? In front of the ocean.”

I stand up between him and the ocean.

“Smile,” he says.

I give him my biggest grin.

“Let’s see how you look on film.” He holds his phone in the air. “Do you mind?”

“I don't mind. What do you want me to do?”

“You’ve seen A Day at the Lake?”

“A few years ago, yeah.”

“You know the poster where she's blowing a kiss?”

“Yeah. Lame.”

“Lame? That poster sold millions of copies.”

“I know. I just thought it was more about her boobs. She basically stood like this and blew a kiss.”

I mimic Mom’s poster.

“So what can you do, besides cartwheels?”

“I told you before, I’ve taken dance classes since I was three. I’m varsity soccer. I’m decent at kickboxing. I lower my head and confess. “I broke a girl’s nose at a party. I’m not proud of it or anything, but I did.”

“Show me.” He slides his phone into his pocket and holds up his hands the way Tommy’s trainer does.

I punch them gently.

“Come on, you’ve got to have more than that.”

“Maybe I don’t want to hurt you,” I tease. He grabs my wrist. His grip is quite strong. “Wow, you’re stronger than you look.”

He looks hurt. “I don’t look strong? Wow, way to punch a guy’s ego.”

“Well it’s hard to tell with that loose T-shirt on. You know, guys your age can take their shirts off and be all flabby, or they can be all ab-a-licious . . . ”

Vincent pulls his shirt up over his head.

OMFG!!

My mouth falls open as I stare at his perfectly sculpted chest, his strong pecs, his thick ab muscles, and that sexy little line of dark hair trailing down into his swimsuit.

“What?” he says with a laugh.

I manage to close my mouth. “I’m guessing you work out a bit?”

He tilts his head and grins. “You could say that. So, back to our video. Do some cartwheels or dance for me. No, I know. Blow me a kiss. Do it your way.”

I think about it.

I turn my back on him and prance into the ocean. I reach down, grab a handful of water, and then swivel my upper body back toward him, naughtily tossing the water out of my hand as I blow him the sweetest kiss.

“That’s perfect,” he says. “Sweet, but naughty. Exactly how we want your character to be. So I take it you’d rather have people looking at your ass on a poster than your boobs?”

“Uh, I never thought of that. I was just playing around.”

He replays the video, studying it intently.

Eventually he says, “The camera loves you. Meet me at my studio tomorrow.”

“I can’t. Today I have birthday stuff, tomorrow too, then Saturday is my big birthday party.”

“Did my invite get lost in the mail?”

“Oh, no. I didn’t—um—do you want to come? I could get your name on the list.”

“Of course I want to come.”

I see Brooklyn wandering down the beach toward us.

“What’s up?” Brooklyn says to Vincent.

“Just telling Keatyn that getting the house has been tougher than I thought it would be. So, I was looking at surfboards the other day and felt a little overwhelmed. Do you have any suggestions?”

Brooklyn says, “Go to Davey’s, tell him I sent you, and tell him to fit you for a board. It’ll be perfect for you. The guy’s a genius.”

“I’ll do that. Thanks. So good to see you both, but I have to get going.”

“I saw you doing cartwheels all the way down the beach earlier. What’s gotten into you?” Brooklyn asks me as Vincent strolls off.

I jump into his arms and kiss him. “It’s my birthday, and I’m happy, and I’m in love with this amazing guy.”

“Happy Birthday, Keats. Was I the first one to tell you?”

“You were, but I’m still kinda mad you wouldn’t come see me.”

“Tommy would probably kick my ass if he found me in your bed.”

“B, we spent the summer together. They know we sleep together.”

Not that we have lately. Does jet lag really affect a boy that much?

He runs a couple lazy kisses up my neck. “Did the munchkins run in your room this morning and tell their Kiki happy birthday at the crack of dawn?”

I laugh because they did. “Yeah, they did. Six a.m. All piled on my bed and yelled, Happy Birfday, Kiki! They threw homemade birthday cards and confetti at me. It was adorable.”

“That’s exactly why I didn’t. Come on, let’s get out there.”

We grab our boards and paddle away from shore.

I love everything today. I love being out in the water. I love the way the waves feel under my board. I love how the sun feels warm on my head. I love how I feel both confident and scared to death when I ride a wave back into shore.

As I watch Brooklyn catch a wave, I think about our relationship. I didn’t care that much about labeling it before, but now that everyone keeps asking what our status is, I’m starting to want to know too.

He paddles next to me, leans over the side of his board, and kisses me.

“I can’t wait to give you your present tonight.”

“Just what do you have planned exactly?”

“It’s a surprise,” he yells as he paddles off again.