I also take note of his comment, It’s who I am.
I hug Sander tightly. “It’ll be our little secret,” I tell him.
As we’re walking out of my room, I see the locket James gave me for my birthday sitting on my dresser. I put it around my neck and silently tell my dad I miss him.
All bullshit aside, I did.
11:30pm
The party is in full swing, and everyone is dancing. Brooklyn and I are sitting off to the side of the dance floor on some lounge furniture with a bunch of the guys we surf with. I had hoped they would all be out dancing and meeting new people, but Brooklyn’s telling them all about his Summer of Waves, as he is now calling it.
Personally, I would have named it the Summer of Love, but what the hell do I know?
He goes on about what makes one wave or surfing location better than another.
I look out at everyone having fun dancing.
I stand up in front of him
“Come dance with me.”
“You know I don't like this kind of music,” he says, dismissing me and continuing his story.
The guys are listening intently, like he’s the God of All Surfers. Seriously. They’re practically bowing to him, and he's loving it. Loving being in his own little spotlight.
I felt like I should be with him, since he came tonight, since he’s my date, since he’s supposed to love me.
But I can’t quit thinking about Cush. And the more I think about him, the more irritated I get with Brooklyn.
“I’m going to dance,” I say, but the only response I get is a slight head nod. Which is pretty much the nail in our love coffin. As much as I know it’s over, part of me can’t help but still try. I feel like I’m giving up on a dream. Like I failed somehow. “Please come dance with me.”
He shakes his head at me then speaks in an irritated tone. “You know I don’t like stuff like this, Keats. I’m here. What more do you want?”
And there it is.
The push that I needed.
“I want more, B. A lot more. I know we aren’t going out, but I’m done. Done with this. Done with us. I’m sorry.”
He nods his head at me in agreement.
I work my way out to the center of the dance floor. I know that’s where Vanessa will be. She says you should always dance in the center, so everyone can see you.
“You done talking to all the boring people?” she yells at me.
“Yeah!”
She reaches into her date’s pocket and pulls out a flask. I haven't had anything to drink yet, so I take two big swigs and feel the whiskey both burn and warm the back of my throat.
I dance with Vanessa and RiAnne and soak up the intensity of the crowd, the lights, the heat.
The beat.
A pair of familiar hands grabs my waist, and Cush grinds up against me.
I remember the nights we went dancing and how much fun we had. I remember the hot dream I had about him.
I'm not sure if it's the alcohol, the excitement, or just because his hands feel like they belong on me, but I turn around to face him, wrap my arms around his neck, and kiss him.
No, I make out with him.
Right here in the middle of the dance floor for the world to see.
His hands are still firmly planted on my lower hips, and I feel him squeeze them.
When the song ends, Vanessa pokes my back, because Cush and I are still swaying and kissing.
She gives me an approving smile.
“We’ll be back!” I yell to her as another song blares.
I grab Cush’s hand and pull him through the crowd, to the opposite side of the dance floor from where Brooklyn is holding court.
He pushes me into a dark corner and kisses me again.
“I just broke up with him. I think I love you,” I blurt out.
It's dark in the corner, but I can see the excitement in his eyes and a flash of bright white teeth.
He cups my face in his hand and gives me a soft, slow kiss.
“Really? I’ve been praying all summer that I’d get to hear you say that.”
I start talking fast. “I thought I was going to stay with him. I'm supposed to be in love with him, but then you walked in my house, and you gave me those boots, and they just sum up everything. Vanessa only likes me when I’m dressed and made-up perfectly, like when I’m an expensive designer boot. Brooklyn only likes me when I’m in a bikini with no makeup on, like I’m an old, worn-out boot. The boots you gave me are both. I can’t be myself when I’m with either one of them. I don’t want to just live in their worlds. I want to live in my world.”
He puts a finger up to my lips. “Shhh.” He pulls me into a tight hug and whispers into my ear. “Relax, Keatyn.”
I take a deep breath and nuzzle my face into his shoulder. His strong, muscular shoulder.
“It’s not just your world, Keatyn. It’s our world.”
“I’m going to be different this year. I just want you to know. We’ll sit with Vanessa, but I’m not letting her control me. I’m going to run for Student Council, try out for dance team, join the drama club, and help plan prom.”
“Prom, huh? You know, it’ll be my senior prom, and just so you know, you’re going to be my date.” He laughs and pulls me closer. “And, girl, we’re gonna do it up big. I’m talking party bus, big dinner, lots of pictures, lots of dancing, but then . . .”
“Then, what?”
“Then, it’s all about you and me. Private limo to our suite on the beach. Champagne. Walking hand in hand on the beach in the moonlight. Then back to our room. And you know I can do up a hotel room.”
“It sounds perfect, Cush. Just like a dream.”
“Our dream.” He leans back a little and looks into my eyes. “I don't care if you said it to a million different guys all summer long. When you told me you loved me just now, did you mean it?”
I nod my head on his shoulder.
All bullshit aside, I did.
I wrap my arms around his neck and lace my fingers through his thick hair that has grown out over the summer.
He touches my forehead with his and says, “Come on, birthday girl. As much as I’d like to stay here and kiss, this is your night. You need to be out on the dance floor soaking up the spotlight.”
I gently kiss his cheek as my insides melt away to a pile of goo.
Finally, a boy who understands my love of the spotlight and encourages it.
He pulls my hand, and I follow him out to the center of the dance floor.
Vanessa, RiAnne, Sander, and pretty much our entire lunch table, past and present, are dancing around us.
Cush is getting sweaty and, well, I've yet to see those new muscles. I grab Vanessa’s flask, do another shot, then unbutton Cush’s shirt.
He laughs at me, but is totally into it. I push his shirt off his shoulders, and then wave it above my head.
The girls around us scream, and the other guys quickly follow suit.
I don’t pay attention to the other guys though. I'm too busy staring at Cush’s chest. What was once thin and lean is now bulky and thick. His shoulders look broader. His pecs have new definition. There are thick rows of ab muscles. His arms are jacked, and every bit of him is perfectly tanned.
“You think I'm hot, don't ya?” he teases.
I nod my head yes and plant little kisses across his chest.
I take a break from dancing to run use the restroom.
The whole time I'm peeing, I'm thinking Vanessa was right.
My relationship with Sander was a sham.
Is that what I'm doing again? Am I getting wrapped up in a thing with Cush because it feels right? Because I think he gets me? Or is it because he's really hot and makes me feel sexy?
And what about Brooklyn?
The guy who’s supposed to love the real me. The guy who wishes I would avoid the spotlight, but doesn't seem to want to avoid it himself. When I came back home, I thought I had it all figured out.
I think about the boots Cush gave me.