Stalk Me

Table Of Contents

Title page

Copyright page

Dedication

Come play with Cush.

Abs to freaking die for.

I'm way into her.

You're single. I'm single.

So it was just a hookup?

To good to be true.

So, sue me.

This is important, people.

Pay for what you've done.

Possibly a little bit hotter.

It's cute. Can I keep it?

Body shots!

The biggest bitch of all.

A herd of sheep.

Picture of your world.

A little naughty.

Whatever you want.

My life is a mess.

The waves miss you.

Know when it's right.

Keats for my Keats.

Come and find you.

My horrific ends.

Hands all over your ass.

Our room feels very empty.

Explode with desire.

So this summer was amazing...

I mean, hell, no.

Commit social suicide?

Calm, easy, chillness.

Kill the troll's bubbles!

Click your heels together.

Everyone will love you.

A perfect four-leaf clover.

Author’s note.

The Keatyn Chronicles sneak peek.

Acknowledgements

Other Books by Jillian Dodd

About the Author

Jillian Dodd

stalk me.

The Keatyn Chronicles

Book one.

Copyright 2012 by Jillian Dodd

All rights reserved.  No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, without express permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes. If you are reading this book and you have not purchased it or won it in an author/published contest, this book has been pirated. Please delete and support the author by purchasing the ebook from one of its many distributors.

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. 

Bandit Publishing

Flower Mound, TX

Edited by Rebecca Peters-Golden 

Cover by Steena Holmes

ISBN: 978-0-985-0086-4-2

This book is for my kids, Kenzie & Connor.

Thanks for pushing me to succeed. 

You are both an inspiration in all you do.

Friday, May 6th

Come play with Cush.

3am

“Keatyn baby, come see The Cushman,” a tipsy Brandon Cushman says to me. 

I stay where I am. 

He walks over, slings his arm around my shoulder, and surveys the mess that is his house.

“Another epic party delivered. Saw your bff was hooking up in the guest room. Watched a little before they kicked me out." 

“Would that be Vanessa or RiAnne?” 

“Vanessa. I don’t know why she got so pissed. It’s not like I haven’t seen it all before.” 

I nod my head. Vanessa has been with pretty much everyone.

“So where's your boyfriend?" 

“Bathroom.” I roll my eyes. “Puking.”

“Sander’s the man. You crashing here?" 

“No, I’m taking him home. I’m supposed to go surfing in, like, three hours.”

Cush flashes me a grin so sexy it ought to be trademarked. “You looked hot dancing on the bar tonight. When you gonna dump The Sandman? Come play with Cush?”

Cush is a total player, and he doesn’t try to hide it. He’s good looking and popular, so his standard pickup line of
Let’s hook up
works on most girls. And why wouldn’t it? He’s six feet tall, has a soccer-toned body, and bright blue eyes. During soccer season, his dark blond hair gets buzzed, and he rarely shaves. Tonight there is a fair amount of stubble on his cute face. 

He puts his face close to mine, like he’s going to kiss me, but instead he scratches his scruffiness up the side of my cheek and laughs.

I rub my cheek. “Gee, thanks. Now I have Cushburn.”

Cush gently pushes my hair behind my ear and studies my cheek. “It is a little red. Why don’t you come up to my room? I’ll kiss it and make it feel better.”

I roll my eyes at him again and point toward the bathroom. “You wanna make me feel better, go check on The Sandman.”

On cue, Sander, my boyfriend of over a year, stumbles out of the bathroom. He drank too much tonight, as usual. 

Cush grabs a bottle of water out of the mini fridge and tosses it to him. 

Of course, Sander misses, and it goes skittering across the tile.

Cush and I try to hide our giggles as we watch him drunkenly chase it.

“Fuck you, Cush," Sander says, after he finally corrals the bottle. The guys do the drunken guy hug but skip the
I love you, man
. Cush isn’t drunk enough for that. 

I survey the room littered with all the popular kids from my school and think back to how I imagined my life just a few years ago. How I begged my mom to let me stay in Malibu. How, for the first time in my life, I was going to put down roots. How I dreamed of being popular. I dreamed high school would be like what I'd seen in the movies. I wanted to live out one big high school musical.

I can honestly say, I never imagined a scene like this.  

My best friend, Vanessa, is drunk, high, and hooking up with some guy she just met, but thought was hot. 

RiAnne was making out on the couch with a guy from the lacrosse team, but a few minutes ago they headed into one of the bedrooms. 

Cush's parties used to be fun back when there were about ten of us. Spin the bottle, beer pong, movies, some mild hooking up, all of us thinking we were so cool to be topless in the hot tub. 

The more fun we had, the more people came, and the more wild the parties got. Tonight there were close to a hundred people.

“When’s your mom back?" I ask Cush. 

“Saturday night,” he says with a frown, eyeing the beer bottles strewn all around.

"I'll come over after surfing to help you clean up. Cleaning ladies come Sunday?"

Cush gives me a hug. “You know it. You’ve got the code. Wake me up when you get here.” He flashes his sexy grin at me again. “Or, better yet, join me in bed.”

I help Sander stagger out to the gaudy purple Lamborghini he bought himself for his eighteenth birthday. He falls asleep the minute I start driving. I look at him, softly snoring in the seat next to me. With his hazel eyes, great smile, and hair that usually has more product in it than mine, the former child star has grown up quite nicely.

After traveling the world while my mom made movies, living in so many different places, and only having tutors, I was so excited to go to a real high school. I used to spend my days writing scripts for my perfect life. Scenes of becoming popular. Magical parties where I’d meet a cute boy, he’d kiss me, and we’d fall in love. Scenes where the captain of the basketball team would ask me to dance; we’d kiss, and fall in love. Scenes where that popular boy would kiss me in the moonlight and ask me to be his girlfriend. Scenes where we’re in the center of a school dance slowly swaying while everyone does a choreographed dance around us. Scenes where he’d shoot the winning basket and be on top of the team’s shoulders, but would find me in the crowd and blow me a kiss.

I wanted two things from my high school experience: I wanted to be the most popular girl and date the most popular boy.

And it all happened.  

Kinda. 

High school is a lot trickier than I ever imagined, and it sorta sucks sometimes. 

It’s hard to juggle what your friends want, what your parents want, and what the guys want, and still get what you want.

Especially when you’re not sure anymore what you want.

And it doesn’t help that I’ve been starting to think that RiAnne and Vanessa only became friends with me because of who my mom is. 

My mom is Abby Johnston. Yeah,
that
Abby, America’s favorite romantic comedy actress. America’s sweetheart.

And really, now that you know who my mom is, you probably don’t need me to tell you about my sort-of stepdad, action film star Tommy Stevens, or their four-year-old triplets (Avery, Emery, and Ivery) and two-year-old daughter (Gracelyn). They are all constantly photographed as they travel around the world making movies.

I’ve been lucky to avoid that the last few years. I’ve lived here in Malibu, gone to school, taken dance classes, played soccer, and surfed.

Sander came to school the middle of my freshman year. He had been a popular child star who decided to take a break and be a normal kid. 

And, as one would expect, lots of girls were vying for his affections.

Vanessa, specifically. 

She was popular among our freshman class and lost her virginity to a cute junior boy, but it’s not like she ruled the school. She saw Sander when he was registering and deemed him her ticket to the top. She would date him, and they would become the most popular couple. 

Obviously, we had written nearly identical scripts and were both trying out for the same role, but Vanessa was sure she’d get the part. And if she couldn’t win it on her own, she’d buy and scheme her way to the top.

I’ve never seen anyone plan so extensively. She bribed the receptionist into telling her when his first day was. She bought and planned multiple outfits for his first two weeks of school. She even had backup outfits for all the possible dates he might ask her on. She gave the school counselor a spa package she
just didn’t have the time to use before it expired,
so she could be his new student guide. She had RiAnne and me pore over his old fan sites and quiz her on his favorite food (Mexican), the color of his eyes (hazel), his sign (Sagittarius), and his dogs’ names (James and Dean).

He showed up a day earlier than expected. I was in the office dropping off some Tommy Stevens autographed memorabilia for a school auction when he said hi to me. We hit it off because we had so much in common.