Текст книги "Hate Me"

Автор книги: Jillian Dodd

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“What about a scholarship? I bet they have those.”

“They do, but they’re given out at the beginning of each school year. I could apply for next year, but not next semester. And my grades aren’t that great. Like, I’m a solid B student. Not smart enough for a scholarship.”

“You need to tell Logan.”

She gets tears in her eyes again. “We just got back together and now I’m going to have to leave him.”

I pat her back. “We’ll figure out a way for you to finish school here. Stop worrying about it. I promise, something will work out.”

“I can’t tell him. He’ll try to fix it. And his parents already make sacrifices so he can come here. It’s not like they can pay for me, too.”

“Did you go talk to the dean? Tell him the situation?”

“No. Do you think I should?”

“Yeah. If anyone can help, he can.”

“I suppose you’re right. I’m embarrassed, you know?”

“Don’t be. I’ll go with you, if you want.”

She nods, then studies me. “Aiden told Logan that you almost didn’t come back.”

“Please don’t tell anyone.”

“He said he told you about that night. About Prom.”

“Yeah, he did.”

“He thought you might hate him.”

“I could never hate Aiden.”

“That’s what I told him. I thought you acted weird when you hugged me goodbye. Would you have really just left like that without telling your friends?”

“I’m having some family issues, too. I thought I might have to go home to help. I’m hoping when I go home for Christmas that things will be better.”

She hugs me. “I hope they are, too. And I’m glad you came back. Eastbrooke wouldn’t be as fun without you.”

“Thanks,” I say, and I mean it. A lot.

As we’re walking out the door, Peyton says, “Hey, Keatyn, wait up. I want to talk to you about Aiden.”

Oh, shit. She knows. Knows that Chelsea texted him. Knows what was said.

“What about?” I say, as calmly as I can, as Shark bumps his hip into mine and joins us as we walk toward the dorms.

“What do you think we should do for his birthday?”

“His birthday? When is it?”

“This Sunday.”

“Why didn’t he tell me?”

“I don’t know.”

And already my mind is going crazy. He doesn’t want me to know? Does he want to spend it with Chelsea and not me?

No, stop it, Keatyn. Stop doubting him. He’s been sweet and amazing.

But why wouldn’t he tell me?

“Did he tell you Chelsea texted him over break?”

“No, but I’m sure he told her to go to hell.”

“Yeah, probably,” I say, less than enthusiastically.

“So, if you’re okay with it, I was thinking of inviting some friends out for dinner. I just didn’t want to step on your toes in case you were planning something already. But if you didn’t know, then you probably haven’t planned anything, right?”

“Right. Dinner sounds great. Wait. This Sunday is December the fourth.”

“Uh, yeah,” she says, looking at me like I’m dumb.

I knew they were both Sagittarians, but Aiden and Brooklyn share the same birthday?

Am I in the Twilight Zone?

I look up to the sky and wonder if the gods are done having fun with me yet.

“His birthday is the same day as my ex-boyfriend’s. What are the odds of that?”

Shark chimes in. “It’s really not that uncommon. About nine hundred thousand people in the United States share any given birthday. Over nineteen million if you count the world.”

“Oh, well, that’s good to know,” I say, thankful that we’ve reached my dorm.

I hate the internet.

5pm

I’m supposed to meet Aiden for tutoring in his room.

But I’m dreading it.

Maybe I’ll accidentally fall asleep.

Maybe my phone died.

And I am sort of freaking out about the birthday.

Why didn’t he tell me about his birthday?

What am I going to get him?

I grab my computer and look up the traits for those born on December the fourth.

If you were born on this day, you are happy, fun loving, and high-spirited. You can be very easygoing, but are often quite ambitious and determined. You have a great attitude toward life. Active and focused, levelheaded and responsible, you are the kind of person who works hard and plays hard. You like your privacy and need a home base to act as your castle. However, you can be opinionated, bossy, and sometimes impulsive. 

Your lucky colors are blue and bright white.

In work and money, you have great ambition and should do well in any occupation you choose. You are typically disinterested in finances, which might make you careless with your money. This should subside as you mature.

In the romance department, your soul mate will have to break through your emotional walls to gain your trust and must share your desire for a home base. They must also be able to keep up with your love of adventure and excitement. You have a lusty sex drive. You want to find your true love and will quickly become bored or restless in a relationship that’s not up to your standards.

You dream of personal freedom, and you just want to be yourself. You will go to great lengths to achieve this. You don’t really set goals; rather, you depend on your gut instincts. You dream of traveling far and wide.

I shut my laptop. I hate the internet.

I mean, except for shopping.

Just not for all the worthless information that doesn’t help you in the least.

I get a text.

Hottie God:  Are you running late?

Me:  No.

Hottie God:  Then why aren’t you here?

Me:  I don’t feel like it.

Hottie God:  What’s wrong?

Me:  Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I’m just mad at myself.   

Hottie God:  You’re mad at me?

Me:  You told me that I’m supposed to tell you how I’m feeling? Right? That we’re supposed to talk? Well, here it is. You didn’t tell me that Chelsea texted you. And when you finally admitted it, you wouldn’t tell me what you said or what she said. And to top it off, I just found out about your birthday. So what else haven’t you told me?

I sit and wait for his reply.

There isn’t one, so I throw on my coat and head out the back door.

I wander through the trees, careful to avoid the mud puddles, until I get to the Cave.

I sit down on a stump, close my eyes, and decide to check in on Annie.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

“Just studying.”

“Have you talked to Ace yet?”

“Not really. We texted some today. But he’s still being weird. Distant.”

“I’m at the Cave. Want to come sit with me?”

“Why are you there? Aren’t you supposed be tutoring Aiden?”

“Yeah, but . . . he’s being kinda distant too.”

“He didn’t seem that way at lunch. And he seemed upset you weren’t in French. But then Miss Praline got a call from the office about you going to town.”

“Yeah, they wanted to make sure it was okay I took Dawson with me.”

“You took Dawson with you? No wonder Aiden’s being distant.”

“It was before that. At lunch. He didn’t tell me that Chelsea texted him. And he wouldn’t tell me what he said. I’m just upset about it. Oh, and his birthday is this week. He also didn’t tell me that.”

“What did he say about Chelsea?”

“He said he’d tell me later.”

“So why aren’t you letting him tell you? Why are you jumping to conclusions?”

“Why aren’t you going to talk to Ace? Why are you jumping to conclusions?”

She sighs. “Same reason as you probably. I don’t want to hear the bad news. I’m giving him until tomorrow. If he hasn’t talked to me or tried to explain, I’m breaking up with him.”

“I would too.”

“On a very weird side note, Whitney was nice to me today.”

“How?”

“She’s throwing a Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show watching party in the school’s cinema room. We’re supposed to dress in something from the store.”

“I heard. That sounds fun, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, I just don’t understand why she invited me.”

“She says if we present a united front, Chelsea might leave us alone.”

“You mean leave our boyfriends alone?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“That sounds good to me. And who knows, maybe I’ll end up single tomorrow.”

“Are you really upset?”

“I’m more pissed than upset at this point. I think I cried it all out over the weekend.”

“It’s cold out here.”

“Go talk to Aiden. Be a big girl.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

But I don’t. I put my face in my hands, sit frozen in my spot, and try to think positively.

What could he have said to her that he wouldn’t want anyone to hear but that would make me happy?

I think.

And think.

And can’t think of a positive answer.

And that makes me really sad.

But I decide Annie is right. I need to go talk to him.

I get up and run down the path, being careful not to step in a puddle and ruin my suede shoes. As I come out of the trees, I get knocked flat on my ass.

“What the—”

Aiden picks me up off the ground. I’m soaked and muddy. “I’m sorry,” he says.

I look down at my muddy legs and my probably ruined shoes, burst into tears, and run to my dorm.

In the bathroom, I lock the door, strip off my clothes, turn on the shower to warm up the room, and then try to clean off my shoes in the sink.

I get most of the mud off of them, pat them dry, hope for the best, and then hop in the shower.

I take a long shower, spending more time crying than washing the mud off.

I don’t know why I’m crying. I was going to see him. To talk to him.

I’ll get dressed and text him.

I wrap a towel around my body, twist one into my hair, and run out in my room to grab some clean clothes.

“Ahhhh!” I scream, dropping my hold on the towel.

I instinctively throw my hands over my lady parts while Aiden chuckles, gets off the bed, and hands me the towel. “What are you doing here? You scared me half to death.”

I wrap it tightly around myself while he says, “I’m sorry I knocked you down. Annie told me you were at the Cave. Why were you out there?”

“Because you didn’t text me back.”

“I heard you crying in the shower. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“Well, you did.”

“I wanted to tell you in person.”

“I want to trust you, Aiden. I really do. But this feels a lot like when Dawson and Whitney texted. And you liked Chelsea. I just . . .”

He frowns. “You’re shaking. Go get dressed.”

I realize that I am cold. I run into my closet, throw on some leggings and a sweater, and then go sit on the bed. When he sits on the bed next to me, I quickly move to my desk chair and roll away from him.

He grabs the chair’s arms and rolls me back toward him, so our knees touch.

“I didn’t tell you about Chelsea because I didn’t want to upset you. I wasn’t trying to hide it from you.”

“What did she say?”

He hands me his phone. “I saved it because I wanted to show you. But then you told me you weren’t planning to come back. And I completely forgot about it. I was upset, willing to risk my parents’ wrath to be with you wherever you needed to go. Boots, when we jumped off the cliff, you told me you trusted me. Do you?”

His question combined with the pain on his face is why I didn’t want to come back. I can’t take seeing it. And I can’t imagine how it will look in March when I tell him the truth.

“I just didn’t understand why you wouldn’t show me at lunch like Logan did.”

“Because I wanted to tell you in private. And you didn’t answer my question. Do you trust me?”

I close my eyes, trying not to cry, and nod. “Yes, Aiden, I do.”

“Good,” he says, handing me his phone. “I want you to read this.”

Chelsea:  Looking forward to everyone getting back from break. You should stay away from Keatyn. She’ll be toxic when I’m done with her. 

Aiden:  Don’t you dare do anything to hurt her or I’ll go to the dean myself.

Chelsea:  All my friends hate me because of her. Surely, you don’t think I’m going to let her get away with it.

Aiden:  No, all your friends hate you because you were offering sex to their boyfriends. And what makes you think Keatyn did it? There are other people who wanted to get back at you besides her. 

Chelsea:  We’ll see . . . Have a nice break. 

“That must be why she texted Logan and Ace. She wants my friends to hate me.”

Aiden nods. “I think so. I want you to know that I told you everything about my past on break. Promise me that you won’t believe anything she says about me or your friends.”

“Okay. But what about your birthday?”

“What about it? I can honestly say that from the time Riley punched me in the nose until now, I haven’t even thought about it. But my mom did text me today to say they’re coming the week after, both to see the dance competition and to celebrate my birthday.”

“Your sister is planning a dinner.”

“As long as you’ll be there, I’ll be there.”

“I wouldn’t miss your birthday, Aiden.”

He kisses me. “Good. Are you hungry? Why don’t I order Chinese and we can study French here?”

“That sounds good. I’ll go dry my hair.”

Aiden stays in my room until he has to leave to make curfew. We eat, study, snuggle, kiss, and talk about where he wants to have his birthday dinner. I suggest we go back to our French restaurant.

After he showers me with goodbye kisses and heads to his dorm, I grab my laptop and start shopping.

Back to shore.

12:25am

I go into the stairwell and make myself at home on a cold, hard cement step. I pull up the video conferencing software and click on B’s photo. While I’m waiting for him to come online, I stare at his tan face.

I close my eyes and remember what it was like with him. So different than it was with Cush.

It was never fast. One time, I wanted to do it on the beach—like, quick—and he told me sex isn't about just riding the wave. That it should be the joining of mind, body, and soul. That it’s waxing your board, paddling out, floating over the swells, patiently waiting for and preparing yourself for the bigger wave. Then it’s all about working your way back to shore.

It never felt like just sex with him.

But I know why.

It’s because I loved him.

But then I think about Dawson and how hot it was.

How Aiden can make me feel on fire with a single touch.

And I can’t help it. I want it all. The connection and the heat.

I think about his surfing reference of working your way back to shore. Which is fitting because it’s exactly what I’m trying to do. Get back to my family. To him. To my home. To our beach.

I know I can’t keep going like this.

I hear him say, “Keats?”

My eyes fly open. “Sorry, I was just thinking about surfing.” I start to get tears in my eyes. “God, I miss you. For two years, I saw you almost every day. I feel like a piece of me is missing.”

“I feel like a part of me is missing too. I miss everyone. Our beach.”

 “Are you getting tired of traveling?”

“The flights are a bitch sometimes, and I complain about it. But then I find myself on another amazing beach. Kinda like our summer of waves—all the beaches we discovered. Except bigger and better.”

“It was a good summer.”

“Yeah, it was. So, I’m sorry, I haven’t had time to get together with the guy on the takeover stuff yet. I will, though. This week or next, maybe.”

“But, I thought that’s why we were talking tonight, so we could get started? We need to start now, B. You don’t understand. There are a lot of moving parts to this.”

“What do you mean?”

“It has to be timed so that it hits Vincent all at once.”

“What does?”

“A hostile takeover alone won’t do it. I have to push him from every direction. The publicity for Mom’s movie starts this week. We have to start this week.”

I’m starting to panic. I need this to go according to plan. It has to.

“Oh,” he says. He closes his eyes and looks down. I notice he looks stressed.

“I have something I need to tell you.”

“Okay.”

“Something was delivered to my hotel room earlier.”

“What?” I say, instantly on edge.

 “A box. In it was a framed photo of me, taken when they handed me the trophy this past, uh, weekend,” he stutters again. He’s shaken.

“Can I see it?”

“Garrett made me send it to him, hoping for forensics.”

“He won't find any.”

“Probably not, but I took pictures of it. The ones I texted him when I got it.”

“Send them to me.”

I watch as he grabs his phone off the table. He gives me a bleak look and I wish I could reach through the phone and brush the lines of stress from his face. They just don’t look right on him.

My phone vibrates with the text.

“I know this is going to upset me so, before I see it, I just want to tell you how proud I am of you. How, through all this shit, you've grown and focused and taken a chance on your dream.” I put my fingers against the computer screen.

He mimics me, our hands touching tenderly onscreen.

“I was serious when I said I wouldn't be here without you. That night at the Undertow was a turning point in my life.”

In both our lives, I think, remembering falling straight into Vincent's arms.

I keep my hand glued to his as I look down and see the photos pop up on my screen. I click on the first one, making it bigger. It’s of a plain white gift box, white tissue paper pulled open, and black rose petals sprinkled around an ornate black picture frame.

I look up at him. “I just looked at the first photo with the black rose petals, so I know it's from Vincent. B, have you been keeping anything from me?”

He stutters, “Uh, um . . .”

“Look, it's okay if you have. My mom did the same thing, trying to protect me. So, if you've gotten other things from Vincent, or seen him, tell me now.”

“What? Uh, no. He's never been spotted, other than Long Beach. But, except for Hawaii, my tournaments have been out of the country.”

“And he’s never sent you anything else or threatened you in any way?”

“No. Other than not being able to see you, this whole thing really hasn't affected me that much. Until now.”

I look at the second text. This one is a close-up version of the photo inside the picture frame. I can see B holding a trophy above his head in victory. It's exactly as I imagined the scene when I heard it. But then I notice writing on the bottom. I quickly zoom in to read, I wouldn't be here without you. I love you, Keats. I smile until I notice the spots. I squint, trying to figure out what they are.

“What are you looking at?”

“Your quote. But I see spots around them and I—” I instantly lose my voice as my eyes focus in on the reason for the red spots. There's a single bullet hole in Brooklyn's forehead and the whole back of his head is blown away. A horrible special effect frozen in time.

I drop my phone into my lap and cover my eyes with my hand, willing my brain to wipe away what I just saw. No wonder Mom freaked when she got a similar photo of Tommy.

“Keats.”

I uncover my eyes, B’s face a welcome sight compared to the horrible image in the photo. “What you said about me has put you in danger.” Guilt, love, and horror swirl in my brain causing tears to spill down my face and filling me with hysteria. “I’m so sorry, B. I'm so sorry you had to see that. You never . . . should’ve . . . said you love me.”

“Um, about that.”

“About what?”

“The I love you part.”

“That's what made you a target. This photo is for me, not you. He's trying to scare me,” I sob. “He’s succeeding.”

“Keats, look, I just need to tell you something . . .”

“You have gotten other stuff from him?”

“No, it's, well, there's this girl . . .”

His words feel like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of me.

“No! Don’t, B,” I beg, covering my eyes again. “Don’t say it. I can’t hear it. Not right now.”

“Keats. I know you’re seeing . . .”

“No, don’t! Just lie to me.” I feel like a riptide is pulling me under, drowning me. I’m crying hysterically now. I put my hand against my forehead, trying to calm myself down, but I can’t. My heart’s beating wildly.

“You need to calm down.”

And that sets me off. “Calm down?! Calm down?! The only thing that’s getting me through this is the thought of being able to go home. You made me promise you another chance. That we’d be back on our beach. I can’t do all I’m about to do if you aren’t gonna be back on that beach with me.” I sob more. “I just want to go home. He ruined our beach, B. I want it back. I want my family back. You and the beach are part of my home. I. Just. Need. To. Go. Home.”

“It sucks, but . . .”

“No buts! What if that horrible picture happens?”

B nods and buries his face in his hands.

Then he looks up at me with a mix of tears and determination in his eyes. “You're right. We have to do this. We have to get our lives back. I’ll text you with a time to talk to the takeover guy.” He puts his hand back on the screen. I reach up and touch it. “And I promise when this is over, we'll both go home.” I nod as he says, “I love you, Keats,” kisses his tattoo, and gently closes his laptop.

I shut mine too.

And cry.

I’m sure he’s seeing someone. And it’s okay if he is, but I need him in this with me. I’m not sure I have the guts or the courage to do it alone.

I love you flits through my brain. I do love B. I just don't know what kind of love it is anymore. And, based on what he says, he doesn’t know either. Still, I know he's part of the mix. Of all the people I love. Of my family. Of my friends. Of him. My home. And I know that neither one of us will be able to go forward without going home first.

I sneak back into my bedroom and try to go to sleep, but every time I close my eyes, I see the photo Vincent sent B.

Only I see it in motion.

My phone buzzes on my nightstand.

Hottie God:  You’re probably asleep, but I just wanted to tell you I miss sleeping with you. 

Me:  I’m awake. I miss it too.

Hottie God:  Then maybe I should do something about it.

Me:  I think maybe you should.

I unlock the window and keep my eyes open until I’m safely wrapped in his arms.