Текст книги "Stalk Me"

Автор книги: Jillian Dodd

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 24 страниц)

He reaches over and squeezes my hand. “You’re not like her. You might have lied about what we did, but you aren’t using it against me. And I don’t care why you kissed me back; it was hot. So are we really going to another party? I am all dressed up, and it’s not even ten.”

“I lied about that too, but Mom and Tommy were going to a party tonight.” I grab my cell and call my mom.

“Hey, honey.”

“So, I’m all dressed up, have a hot date, and nowhere to go. Tell me you are at a fabulous party that we can crash.”

“We are. I’ll put your name in at the door and text you the address. We’re about ten houses farther down the beach.”

“Awesome.”

My phone vibrates. It’s Brooklyn.

B:  Hey, change of plans. The guys and I decided to head out early. 

Me:  You left me?

B:  Didn’t really think it was a big deal. You know us, we’re not big planners. We just sorta ended up here. I figured you could just drive down tomorrow or something.

Me:  James won’t let me drive there by myself. There’s some stalker issues going on that I haven’t told you about. I’m not really allowed to go places all by myself.

B:  Sucks. Oh well, maybe next time.

“Maybe next time?” I mutter. “What the hell? That’s all I get? Sucks?”

“What’s wrong?”

“That was Brooklyn. You know how we’re supposed to leave in the morning?”

“Yeah.”

“They left without me tonight.”

Cush starts laughing.

“Shut up.”

He puts his hand in front of his mouth. “I so called that. I told you he doesn’t treat you right.”

“I don’t really appreciate your gloating.”

He smiles at me. “Maybe not, but your night is about to get a whole lot funner, Miss Douglas.”

I squint my eyes at him. “That almost sounds like a threat.”

“Now you have no excuses. And trust me, I am going to kiss you again.”

We park on the street. I’m barely out of the car when Cush closes the door and pushes me hard against the side of it.

He snakes an arm around me and presses his lips into mine.

It’s a nice kiss. Cush kisses quite nicely.

No.

Nice is not the word for it.

Hot. Smoking hot. Sexy. Steamy.

Those are better words.

“Um, we should probably get to the party,” I tell him, pulling my lips away from him. I can’t keep letting him kiss me.

His lips leave mine, but he doesn’t stop. He blazes a trail of kisses down my neck instead. The scruff on the side of face is tickling my skin, and I breathe in the wonderful, musky smell that is Cush.

Am I really in love with Brooklyn?

I mean if he was my one truelove, isn’t he the only guy I’d ever want to kiss again?

If I’m kissing Cush, and liking it, what does it mean?

The only answer I can come up with is that I’m going to have a very large glass of wine and see if I can get my brain fuzzy enough to shut the hell up.

A doorman escorts us to a bar in the entryway, where I get a Chardonnay and Cush gets a water. There’s a band set up in a huge room overlooking the ocean. Mom and Tommy are not in this room, but I stop and introduce Cush to an aging film star that is actively looking for his fifth wife, an up-and-coming actress that played mom’s younger sister in her last romantic comedy, and a well-known director. Then I spot Millie and Deron. Well, mostly I spot Deron. He’s six feet and nine inches of pure black muscle, a Lakers forward, and the husband of Mom’s best friend, prime time soap opera star, Millie Santino.

“There they are,” I say to Cush.

“Is that Deron Wallace?”

“Yeah, he’s a beast on the court, but he’s really a big teddy bear. His wife, Millie, and my mom have been best friends for years.”

I take his hand and lead him back to where they are and introduce him to everyone.

“Keatyn, you look stunning. That dress is to die for,” Mille says, after kissing both my cheeks. “It’d be perfect for Cannes. Can I borrow it?”

“You’ll have to ask Mom. I think she’s supposed to wear it.”

“You thief,” Mom says playfully.

“It’s Kym’s fault.”

“Well, you make a very handsome couple. Where have you been, all dressed up?”

“Had a school party to go to. It was Monte Carlo themed, but it was kinda lame, so we left.”

While Cush is involved in an intense discussion with Tommy and Deron about the varying horsepower of exotic cars, I walk out onto the deck to get some fresh air and think.

I’m kinda upset that Brooklyn left me.

No, I’m really upset.

Because I realize I was completely wrong about everything. Brooklyn doesn’t like me. He doesn’t love me. I’m just a convenient hookup.

I’m absentmindedly swirling my wine around in my glass and staring out into the ocean when a man leans his arms onto the railing next to me.

“We seem to keep running into each other on the beach,” Vincent says.

“Yeah.” I’m not in the mood to chat. Not even with Vincent. I take a very large sip of wine and hope he’ll take the hint and go away.

“You look amazing,” he says. “A little over-dressed for a beach party, but incredible. Prettiest girl here, if you ask me.”

I turn to look at him. He’s wearing a crisp aqua shirt, unbuttoned at the neck. Softly draped taupe slacks. Buttery leather loafers. Expensive gold watch. Everything about him screams money and privilege.

I take another big drink. Swallow.

“What’s wrong?”

I shake my head. “Nothing, really. Same shit, different day.”

“I know how that goes. Even though I’m excited about our movie, it’s still been a rough week. I miss her.”

“I’m glad I could help a little. It must be hard going through something like that by yourself.”

He nods. “Yeah, but I do have some good news. Our movie is a go.”

“Really? That’s exciting. So you got the financing?”

“Grandmother left me a pretty large estate. I met with her attorney today and got all the details. I don’t have to worry about the financing now. I can do it all myself.”

“Is that smart to do? What if it bombs and you lose all your money? You haven’t even seen me act yet.”

“I’ve seen you surf. I’ve seen your emotions. If you can be yourself on camera, we’ll both make more money than we’ve ever dreamed about. Why don’t we get started tonight? I’m dying to get you on film. I know it will inspire me even more.”

I don’t reply, just take another sip of wine.

He leans closer to me, causing our shoulders to touch.

I don’t want to make him mad by saying that I don’t know him well enough to go anywhere with him. Mom has warned me about stuff like that. About photographers who say they’re going to make you the next supermodel, they just need to “take a few photos” first. About producers, who promise to make you a big star, they just need you to “come read” for them first, but what they really want is to get you on the casting couch.

“You always go to parties like this?” I ask him. I’m trying to be polite.

“Free drinks and beautiful women. Who wouldn’t?” he says.

“You trying to meet that special girl on the beach?”

“I already met a special girl on the beach. Fine. I get it. You don’t know me well enough yet, right?”

I touch his forearm. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re smart. There are a lot of men out there that lie about this kind of thing just to get girls. I’m not one of them, though. I usually don’t have a problem finding women.”

I look at his handsome face and laugh. “I don’t suppose that you do.”

“So go for a walk with me. I’m in mourning. It’s the least you can do.”

“I can’t. I’m here with my . . . um, like, we’re friends, but . . . ” I roll my eyes, thinking about Brooklyn. “Story of my life, apparently.”

“All the more reason for a mind-clearing walk on the beach. The party is getting pretty revved up. No one will even notice you’re gone.”

“Keatyn! There you are,” I hear Millie say. “Get your ass in here and come dance with that handsome date of yours before all the old women try to get their hands on him.”

“Thanks for the offer, Vincent. It’s sweet of you, but I don’t think anyone can solve my boy problems.”

“Maybe you need to solve them yourself.”

I had just started to walk away, but I turn back around. “What do you mean?”

“If a guy is interested in you, really interested in you, he’ll let you know it. If he doesn’t, he’s not worth it.”

I walk back to him and give him a hug. “Whatever I did to help you the other day, we’re now even. That’s exactly what I needed to hear. Have some fun tonight, okay?”

He raises his glass to me as I walk back inside.

When Cush leads me out on the dance floor and holds me tight, I start to feel better about getting ditched by Brooklyn. Cush is adorable, fun, and he seems to like me. And Vincent is right. I should stop wasting my time on a guy who doesn’t really like me.

We have so much fun dancing that the next time I looked at my phone it’s almost one. There isn’t a single text from Brooklyn, but many bitchy ones from Vanessa. I ignore those. I’m in too good a mood.

“Cush, I’ve kept you out so late, and you have soccer tomorrow!”

He runs his hands down the sides of my arms. “I’ll be fine for soccer. And it’s not like my mom’s waiting up for me. She’s in Milan this week. Or maybe it’s Thailand. I can’t remember.”

“Do you wanna just stay at my house? It’s close, and you can crash on the couch in my room.”

“That sounds better than going home to a big, empty house. I’m also really not ready for this night to end.”

Please say yes.

1:15am

Back at home, I go into Tommy’s closet to grab a pair of athletic shorts and a t-shirt. I run back in my room and throw them at Cush.

“Here. You can put these on.”

“Will you untie this tie for me?”

“Sure.” I slide the white dinner jacket off his shoulders, fold it in half, and lay it over my chair. Then I untie his tie.

Then I realize that I’m undressing him.

And I don’t want to stop.

I take the cufflinks out of his sleeves and set them on my desk. Then I slowly unbutton his shirt. I get to see a sliver of his chest at a time. It’s kinda like unwrapping a really cute present.

I smile at Cush. I know his reputation, but we’ve been friends for a year. He confided in me about his dad, carried me down the hall when my feet hurt, and he’s looking at me so adorably right now.

“So, I was thinking,” he says.

“About what?”

“Us.”

He pushes my hair back behind my ear and runs the back of his hand down the side of my neck.

It gives me goosebumps. “What about us?”

He replies with a soft kiss and then trails his tongue across my jawline. I tilt my head, close my eyes, and run my hands through his hair.

His fingers intertwine around the braided gold strap on my shoulder, and he slowly slides it off. “I think we should sit at a different table next year. Together. Invite some cool people to sit with us. Or you could just come sit with me and all the soccer guys.”

“Really? You’d do that for me?”

He stops kissing my shoulder and looks into my eyes. “It’s not just for you. It’s for me too. I don’t want a bunch of fake friends.”

“I don’t either, but I don’t know. Vanessa would make our lives miserable. She’s probably already planning our demise. We pretty much committed mutiny tonight. You should see the things she texted me. And RiAnne is just as pissed. I don’t know what they’ll do, but trust me, it won’t be pretty. Those cheerleaders, Mandy and Alicia, are dying to sit at our table. She could fill our spots in seconds.”

“She can’t have her parties without me.”

“She’ll find someone else to use. I know how she works.”

“So let’s use it against her. Plan her demise. I’m sick of her thinking she’s queen. Let’s knock the throne out from under her.”

“And if it backfires?”

He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me into his hips.

“Who cares? We’d have each other, and our relationship would not be a sham.”

“Cush, it’s already a sham. We don’t have a relationship, and people think we do.”

“First and foremost, we’re friends. No one but you would have gone to all those dinners with my dad.”

“That’s not true. Lots of girls would’ve gone with you. You took me because you didn’t want other girls to think you liked them. That you were serious about them.”

“I’ve got your back. That’s what matters.” He grins at me, runs his hands down my butt, and gives it a little squeeze. “And I have to say, you’ve got a really nice back.”

I laugh. “I know all your moves, Cush. Seen them in action too many times. They aren’t gonna work on me.”

He replies with a long, deep, sexy-ass kiss.

And I’m starting to think his moves might work on me just fine.

His lips are all I can think about.

How good they taste. How forceful they are.

Or skilled, maybe.

Oh my gosh, are they skilled.

The way his tongue flits across my lips. The cat and mouse way in which he lets me suck on his tongue, but then pulls it away from me the minute I start to gain control. The way he sucks on my tongue with just enough force to pull me closer to him. The way it feels like he’s teasing me. Tantalizing me. Making me want to beg for more.

As if he reads my mind, his hands slide out of my hair, down the bare skin of my back, and grab my ass, pushing me firmly against him. I start to grind on his leg like I do when we go dancing, only I’m moving to the rhythm of his tongue darting in and out of my mouth.

My phone buzzes and buzzes, but I pretend not to hear it.

Because right now, every nerve in my body is screaming about how Cush is making them sizzle.

I’m tired of waiting for Brooklyn to start liking me. Tired of being the only one of my friends who hasn’t done it. Tired of waiting for some mythical true love. And tired of wishing on the stupid moon.

What I need is a really hot hookup.

And Cush’s kisses are hot.

Especially the ones that he’s now running down my neck and into my exposed cleavage.

My sense receptors are flooded with information.

After Cush sucks his way up and down my neck, his kisses get softer.

Across my earlobe. Across my cheek. Then back to my lower lip.

He slowly sucks my lower lip into his mouth then says, “I need to tell you something.”

“In a minute,” I mumble, as I finish unbuttoning his shirt, push it off his shoulders, and kiss across his tan sculpted chest.

Then I get brave and unbuckle his belt.

I mean, it’s Cush. It’s not like he’s going to turn me down. I don’t think he knows how to say no to a girl.

As I attempt to unzip his pants, he grabs my hands. “Keatyn, I need to tell you something.”

“Um, okay?” Seriously? Is he going to tell me no?

“There’s a reason why I haven’t gotten serious with a girl. Why I haven’t dated anyone. Why I always wanted you to come to dinner with me. Why I counted down the days until the next dinner.”

“Why?”

He gives me the Cushman grin. The grin so sexy, I want to pull him into bed right now.

“I’m kinda in love with you.”

I blink hard, back away from him, and sit on the bed.

Is he serious? Cush never lies to girls to get them into bed.

They all go willingly.

“Are you telling me that so I’ll sleep with you?”

“No, I’m telling you that so you won’t sleep with me. I know you’ve been crushing on the surfer dude. I know that I usually don’t treat girls all that well myself, but you’re different. You’ve always been different.”

“Vanessa told me I should hook up with you and not tell you I’m a virgin. That you would never notice.”

“I’m pretty sure I’d notice.” He scrunches up his nose. “I think, anyway.”

“Not if I got you drunk,” I tease, trying to lighten the mood.

“That’s not what I want, Keatyn. Go out with me. Be my girlfriend.”

“I, uh . . . I don’t know what to say. Are you serious?” I quickly stand up. “You never have girlfriends. I don’t think you’ve ever even had a second date.”

He gives me the sweetest smile. “Please say yes.”

“I’ve only been single for six days.”

He doesn’t reply, just kisses me instead. The kind of kiss that makes me want to say yes to any question he could ask.

He slides the remaining strap off my shoulder, which causes my gown to slink it’s way off my body. I don’t have on a bra, just a white satin thong. I also get a feeling of déjà vu. Although we’re not at a hotel with rose petals, I realize Cush is following my script.

I flash him a big smile as he stands back and stares at my body. I know I should be embarrassed, but I’m not. I feel confident as he takes in my body and slides his hands down my back. But then he stops again.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not doing anything else until you say yes.” He sits on the edge of the bed and takes off his slacks. I can see that he’s hard. He grabs Tommy’s shorts and pulls them on. “You’re right. You better get me to bed, or I’m going to be no good for soccer tomorrow.”

I don’t think I ever made Sander hard.

Suddenly, I don’t give a shit about his soccer tournament.

“I know it’s probably bad school spirit and not very supportive of me, but right now, I really don’t care about your soccer game.” I kiss him and pull him on top of me.

“Keatyn, are you sure about this?”

“I’m very sure. I don’t want to stop, Cush. In fact, if we stop, the answer to your question is going to be hell no.”

He frowns at me then gets off the bed and grabs his phone off my desk.

What the hell is he doing?

I swear, I hate boys.

I literally just threw myself at him, and he chooses now to check his texts?

I feel a lump forming in my throat and know that I’m going to start crying. My ego can’t take this.

It can’t take being told no one more time.

First, Sander doesn’t want me. Then, stupid Brooklyn.

I can’t stop the tears. They start to flow like rivers down my cheeks. I grab my comforter and pull it in front of my bare chest. I feel so incredibly naked. And stupid.

He sets his phone down and plops back on the bed with me.

“Okay, so I set my alarm for seven. I can’t miss the bus, and I’ll probably suck it up on the field tomorrow, but I don’t care . . . are you crying? Why are you crying?”

“I thought you didn’t want me,” I sniffle. “I thought you were checking your texts.”

His eyes get big. “No, I just wanted to set my alarm real quick. I’m sorry. See, I’m no good at this. I’ve never cared before. I’ve always just done it with no thought.” He kisses my forehead, then my cheek, and then across my lips. “Let’s start over, okay?”

I nod as he reaches over and turns off my lamp. He leans toward me, stops, and flips the lamp back on.

“Can we talk first?”

“Um, sure?” I clutch the comforter tighter to my chest. I want to scream at him, Just be Cush. Throw me on the bed and do me already.

“How did you picture it?”

“Picture what?”

“Losing your virginity?”

“Um, I don’t know.” I lie. I’ve written a million different versions. Versions where I lose it in a hotel on prom night to my perfect boyfriend. Versions where Brooklyn attacks me on the beach. Versions where Brooklyn takes me to his bedroom.

Cush grabs my hand, pulls it up to his lips, and peppers it with sweet kisses. “Please tell me.”

“It’s silly, really.”

“I won’t think it’s silly, I swear. In fact, I’ll go first.”

“You thought about it?”

“I did. And it’s kinda embarrassing for me.”

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“Yeah, I do.” His lips are still slowly kissing the tops of my knuckles. It’s very sweet. “I used to dream it would be you. You always looked so pretty and perfect at school, but I’d see you every afternoon at soccer practice, and you seemed different. Free. Happy. Tough. You made varsity freshman year. Not very many people do that. I didn’t miss a game. I didn’t even know your first name for the longest time. Had just heard the coach yell Douglas at you. Then one day you were running toward me for a soccer ball that had gotten kicked over to our side of the field. It stopped right in front of my feet. I picked it up and said here. Do you remember what you said?”

“I said, Thanks, I’m Keatyn by the way, didn’t I?

He nods his head and kisses my hand again. “Yep. And I couldn’t come up with anything to say back. I just stood there like an idiot. I had so many cool things I was going to say to you if I ever got the chance, but I couldn’t say a word. You had never been that close to me. I could smell your perfume. I could see the purple in your eyes that you can only see when you’re up close. I wanted to ask you out so bad. But then Sander came to school, and I was shit out of luck.”

“But we became friends. I always thought you were really cute, and I invited you to a party.”

“I remember. Sander and I bonded over a bottle of whiskey I stole from my mom’s liquor cabinet. I got drunk and slept with some senior girl.”

“And The Cushman was born.”

“Exactly.” He sighs. “Trust me when I say there’s no one that wants you more than I do, but I don’t think we should do it tonight. I want to do this right, and you’ll have to agree to go out with me first.”

I feel like crying again. He’s seriously so sweet. Why have I never noticed that before?

“And I changed my mind,” he says. “Don’t tell me how you pictured it. I want to plan it and surprise you. Tomorrow night work?”

“What about soccer?”

“Our games are supposed to be over by eight. I’ll pick you up at nine.”

I grab the back of his neck, pull his adorable face closer to mine, and kiss him hard. I pull myself onto his lap, roughly run my hands through his hair, and scratch down his back. He grabs my butt and pulls me tighter into his hips.

My body rocks against him. Specifically, against the hardness I can feel through his shorts.

It’s like my body is trying to trick him into wanting me now even though I’m really looking forward to tomorrow night.

But when he bites down slightly on my shoulder as I thrust my hips into his hardness, I know I’m not waiting another day.

“Let’s do it tonight, get the awkward part out of the way, and have more fun tomorrow,” I say breathlessly.

My hands don’t bother waiting for his answer. They’re already pulling off his shorts.

He seems to be struggling with the decision.

“I can’t wait,” I say breathlessly into his neck.

He flips me over on the bed, tosses his shorts to the floor, and pulls off my thong.

I guide his mouth back toward mine.

 “Are you sure?” he says.

“I’m so very sure.”

I close my eyes, take a calming breath, and don’t stop kissing him until it’s over.

I wake up to a loud clap of thunder and peek at my phone.

4:22.

Cush has one arm wrapped around me, and the other is arched above his head.

I can’t believe I finally did it.

I so never wrote this script. Never ever imagined my first time like this.

But I feel surprisingly happy. Happy that it didn’t really hurt, and happy that he knew what he was doing.

I think about how cute he looked when he told me he was kinda in love with me. How he wants to plan something special for tonight. How much I feel like kissing him again.

I lay my head back on his shoulder and press my lips softly into his neck.

“Mmmm,” he says dreamily, still half asleep. “That feels good.”

I jump when a loud clap of thunder shakes the windows.

He opens one eye. “Is that thunder? Is it raining?”

“Yeah, it’s pouring.”

“Maybe they’ll call off our games, and we can spend the day in bed.”

I kiss up the side of his neck. “That sounds fun, except my parents might not appreciate it. They know you spent the night, but they think we just crashed.”

He rolls onto his side and kisses my stomach. “Well, in that case . . . ”

I don’t let him finish. I know exactly what he’s thinking, and I’m thinking the same thing.