Stalk Me (6 page)

“I don’t know. Will it fit the role?”

“Oh, good point. I should sit somewhere else and wallow. Look broken hearted. Put the hoodie up and earphones in so no one will talk to me. Play the outsider. The jilted man. Can I have one of those big emotional breakdowns by your locker?”

“Sure, why not? Am I supposed to ad lib, or are you gonna script it out?”

“Hmmm. Not sure. This is gonna be fun, I think. I miss acting.”

“I know you do. So, Sander, I hate to do this, but I’m breaking up with you. I will post it on Facebook for the world to see. I hope you understand.”

“But sweetheart, I will die without you. You are my one true love. Now I have nothing. I will sink into the dark blackness of oblivion without you.”

“That might be overkill.”

“I’ll have to work on it. See ya later.” 

And just like that. A year and a half. 

Done. 

I change my Facebook status to single and look out at the waves. Brooklyn and some of the guys are already hitting the surf.

I pull my hair into a ponytail, brush my teeth, spf my face, throw on a bikini, and look at myself in the mirror. 

If today is the start of a new me, I should make a new impression. 

I rummage through my drawer and pull out a different bikini.

The skimpiest one I own. 

Before I started high school, I told Mom I wanted to look a little more, um, polished, I guess is the word, so she totally pampered me. I got polished, scrubbed, and massaged from head to toe. My hair is naturally a dark blonde, but the salt water and sun make all the light blonde highlights come out, so my long hair just got trimmed. I got lessons on how to apply makeup and how to fix my hair. My braces came off, and my teeth got whitened. I don’t need glasses, but Mom even let me get cool colored contacts, so I can change the color of my eyes from a piercing turquoise blue to a bright emerald green. I usually don’t wear them, though. My eyes are naturally kind of a bright purplish-blue, an exact replica of my dad’s. And, I don’t know, seeing them helps me feel like he’s still kinda with me. 

I think about how much I’ve grown in the time I’ve known Brooklyn. 

I now stand five foot nine inches tall. I’m tan and in good shape from a combination of surfing, kickboxing workouts with Tommy, dance classes, and soccer practices.  

I bought this bikini a few years ago in France. It was the bikini I always pictured myself wearing in the scenes I wrote. I thought that if Brooklyn saw me in this bikini, he’d stop thinking of me as a little girl and see me as the woman I thought I was. 

I chuckle to myself because wearing this bikini is a slam to all that Vanessa holds dear. She would have a fit if she knew I was being seen in a two-year-old bikini. 

You know, always worrying about what people think of what you’re wearing can be exhausting sometimes. 

And, let’s face it, most boys don’t know if you’re in last season’s bikini or not. 

My phone dings and dings. I grab it. Read the texts and Facebook notifications.

Vanessa:  WTF! Why in the world would you break up with Sander? He’s the fucking PROM KING!! Do you know how hard we’ve worked for this? And you want to throw it all away?

Vanessa:  Fine. So yes, I was hitting on him last night, but I was just doing it because I’m your friend. Wanted to make sure he wasn’t the kind of slime ball that would take me up on it. He passed. Oh, and by the way, I’m still sitting at his table even if you aren’t. Like no hard feelings.

RiAnne:  I can’t believe you actually did it! Broke up with the PROM KING the day after the prom? Who does that? 

RiAnne:  OMG! Where are you going to sit?

I don’t bother to reply. Shouldn’t they ask if I’m okay? Shouldn’t they care more about me than their spot at a lunch table?

My phone buzzes again.

Cush:  You’re single. I’m single. Let’s mingle.

His text makes me laugh. Typical Cush. 

Me:  Mingle? Is that your classier version of Let’s hook up?

Cush:  Trying to class it up for you, baby. Hang tonight?

Me:  Have plans, but need your support at school on Monday. The bffs are pissed I broke up with Sander. They didn’t even ask how I am. Just wanted to let me know that they are still gonna sit at our lunch table even if I can’t anymore. 

Cush:  Deal. But I have a favor. 

Me:  If you say sexual, I’m gonna scream.

Cush:  Oh, the visuals. I would definitely make you scream ;) But that’s not the favor. It’s that time again. 

Me:  Your dad in town?

Cush has one of those dads whom he both idolizes and hates. Last year, he asked me to go to dinner with them. His dad was newly engaged to a thirty-year-old woman. He’s been engaged twice since, each fiancée younger than the first. I’ve joined them for dinner every month since. 

Cush:  He broke off the engagement with Juliette. Has a new one for me to meet. This one’s probably still in diapers. 

Me:  Of course I’ll go.

Cush:  Pick you up at 7. Look hot. It’ll distract him.

Me:  You’re bad.

Cush:  Most girls tell me I’m good. Wanna find out?

I just want you.

9:10am

I walk out onto the deck, grab my board, and head down the beach. Brooklyn’s back is to me, but Mark notices me. He lets out a whistle, but I can tell by his goofy grin that he’s just giving me shit. They treat me like one of the guys, which is probably why I love hanging out with them. They are just so chill about everything. 

And high most the time, too, but whatever. 

Damian looks up from waxing his board and gives me a wave, then Brooklyn turns around and looks at me. His look is like something out of a movie.

FADE IN: MALIBU BEACH  

A FEW PEOPLE ARE SCATTERED ON THE UPSCALE PRIVATE BEACH OF THE MALIBU COLONY. PAN SCENE OF THE GORGEOUS HOMES LINING THE BEACH. 

A group of boys are preparing to surf. A blonde girl walks down the beach to join them. She is in a very skimpy bikini. A couple of the boys greet her. 

BROOKLYN

(Turns to face Keatyn. His eyes take in her skimpiest bikini. He realizes she’s grown up. She’s not the girl he became friends with. His eyes fill with desire, but he greets her casually.)

Hey, Keats. Surf’s up.

KEATYN

(Walks closer to him. Makes him uncomfortable.)

I see that.

BROOKLYN

Forget surfing. I need to talk to you.

(He drags her up to his bedroom.)

KEATYN

(Pretends to look surprised, but she isn’t. She speaks in a slow, sexy way, plays with her hair, and licks her lips suggestively.)

What did you want to talk about?

BROOKLYN

(Pulls her into his arms.)

I don’t want to talk. I just want you.

(He kisses her and throws her on the bed. They kiss passionately, and then he ravishes her body. She can’t think or speak; she’s so overwhelmed by his touch. He strips off her bikini then they make love.) 

(Or maybe they have sex. Whichever one would be hotter.)

 (Probably sex.)

(And it wouldn’t hurt. Even though it’s her first time.)

(Because that wouldn’t make it as sexy.)

(And then they would do it again. And like again. Because he can’t control his passion for her. He’s been keeping it locked inside him for far too long.)

(Oh, and be sure to get numerous close up shots of his abs. They really are amazing.) 

I picture the scene in my mind as I walk toward him. 

It makes me feel sexy. 

Desirable. 

I walk with a little extra sway in my step, but as usual, Brooklyn refuses to follow a script. The damn boy says, “Hey, Keats. Last one out is a rotten squid.”

So we all run out into the waves like a bunch of fifth graders.

The sun gets hot, the waves die down, and the guys all head out. I strip off my rash guard and catch a few rays, letting the heat dry my bikini.

“Wanna go back out there and play a little while longer?” Brooklyn asks.

“Sure.”

We’re floating on our boards when I decide it’s the perfect time to tell him the news. I’ve been dying to tell him all morning, but I wanted to wait until we were alone. 

So he can finally profess his love for me and all.

“So, I’m officially single.”

“Really?”

“You look surprised.”

“I didn’t think you’d do it. You’re a great girl, Keats. You shouldn’t worry so much about what people think. Maybe if you’d let people at school get to know the real you, like I do, you’d have more real friends. You’re cool. Start acting like it.” He gets distracted by a wave rolling in. “I’m gonna go tame that bad boy,” he says, and quickly paddles off.

Guess the professions of love will have to wait until later.

I sit on my board and watch him. I swear, I could watch him all day. He’s such a good surfer. He enters and wins all sorts of local competitions. He just finished college and now dreams about going out on the pro tour. Even though he looks like a slacker surfer, he’s really very smart. He went to a school where he was able to work at his own pace, graduated high school at fifteen, and already has a college degree in Literature. For the last six months, he’s been trying to decide what to do with his life. I just hope whatever he chooses keeps him nice and close to home. 

And, well, me.

I wait for another wave, paddle out, and ride it back to the beach.

When I get there, Brooklyn is talking to some guy I’ve never seen before. He looks like he’s in his late twenties, maybe early thirties. He’s quite a bit taller than Brooklyn, has dark, slicked-back hair, and deep mocha-colored eyes. He looks really out of place on the beach, though. Like he got lost on his way to the boardroom. He’s wearing a well-cut navy Armani suit, crisp white shirt, red paisley tie, and shiny black Ferragamo wingtips that have to be totally filled with sand.

I shove my board into the sand and jog over to them. I should be polite and say hi.

When I walk up next to Brooklyn, he grabs my waist and pulls me into his side in a surprisingly affectionate and possessive way.   

“And this is Abby Johnston’s daughter, Keatyn,” he says, introducing me. “Keatyn, this is Vincent Sharpe.”

“Nice to meet you,” I say, and extend my hand. 

I notice a scrolly tattoo peeking out from underneath Vincent’s French cuff when he holds out his hand.

He lets go of my hand and lets his eyes slowly wander down my body. Then he looks closely at my eyes. Like he knows me.

But he couldn’t know me. This guy is hot. I would definitely remember meeting someone that looks like him.

“Nice to meet you too,” he finally says to me. “Sorry if I was staring.” He lowers his voice and smiles a very charming smile at me. “You look just like your mom did in
A Day at the Lake
. I kinda had a big crush on her when I was fourteen. You bring back some memories.”

I roll my eyes. 

Figures. 

He was only checking me out because of my mom.
A Day at the Lake
was her very first movie. It didn’t do that well at the box office, but the poster of her blowing a kiss in a bikini sold millions of copies and made her a household name. Now the movie is sort of a cult classic.

“It’s okay,” I say without hiding my disappointment. Seriously, someday men are going to notice me and say,
Damn, that’s Keatyn Douglas,
not,
Oh, it’s Abby Johnston’s daughter
. “You seem a little overdressed.”

He smiles and points his thumb up the beach. “I was just touring a property up the way. It looks like I’ll be in good company when I buy.”

“Yeah, I guess. There are some famous people that live around here, but you might want to rethink your wardrobe,” I tease. 

He looks down at his suit. “I am a little overdressed. So, your boyfriend looks like he knows his way around a surfboard.”

I start to say,
He’s not my boyfriend
, but he says to Brooklyn, “If I’m going to embrace the beach life, I need to learn how to surf. You ever give lessons?”

“I’ve taught a few people,” Brooklyn says, nodding toward me. “She was my first student.”

Vincent smiles at me. “You looked great out there too,” he says, but the way his eyes slide down my bikini, I’m not sure he’s referring to my surfing skills.

“So we’re gonna get back out there,” Brooklyn tells him. “I’m around pretty much all the time. So when you’re ready, just let me know.” 

He grabs my hand and leads me over to our boards. 

When we’re back out floating in the water, he says, “That guy seemed pretty cool.”

“The suit was a bit uptight looking, but did you notice he had a tattoo on his arm? He’s probably cool.” 

“Yeah, maybe. Although, he was flirting with you even though he thought you were my girlfriend. That doesn’t say much for his character.”