Ohmigawd!
Did I just say that out loud?
I can't believe I just said that! I'd like to blame it on the alcohol, but I can't. I only had two glasses of champagne.
Brooklyn slowly takes a sip of my beer, licks his lips in the sexiest way ever, and leans back in the sand next to me.
"Maybe if you didn't have a boyfriend, the guy would think he had a shot."
He leans closer to my face. I can't help but look at his mouth. God, I want that mouth. Please let him kiss me. Lying in the sand, under the moonlight, in a beautiful gown, would make for the perfect first kiss scene.
Instead, he gently rubs his thumb across my cheek and looks deeply into my eyes.
“I know you, Keats. You're not the same when you're with your friends. You turn into a high-strung, power-hungry, popularity whore when you’re with them. That's not you. You're my little laid-back surfer girl."
His girl?
Awwww! OMG!
Wait . . . little girl?
Ack! No!
"I don't know who I am anymore. Or even who I want to be. Sometimes I feel like I live two separate lives. When Sander and I started dating, it was my dream come true. All I ever wanted was to be popular, have lots of friends, and date the most popular guy. Now that I have it all, it just feels . . . um . . .” I search for the right word.
“Fake?”
“Kinda. It's like I'm living the movie of my life based on some script I wrote when I was twelve. Actually, I am. I still have the script I wrote. When I thought the best thing in life would be to have a boy kiss me. When I thought being popular and dating the hottest guy would be the key to high school happiness."
I sit back up, fidget with my beer, and pop my toes in and out of the sand. I feel like I’m at a turning point in my life, and I’m just not sure which way I should turn.
He pulls a joint out of his pocket, lights it, and hands it to me.
“You seem really uptight.” His eyes get big, and he grabs my arm. "Did he hurt you? Is that what this is all about?"
“Ha.” I laugh pathetically. “Don’t I wish.”
"You wish?"
I take a hit and then another. Then I start to get tears in my eyes.
Just what I want. The guy I totally crush on to see me all weepy.
He sees my tears, puts his arm around me, and is concerned. “Keats, tell me now. What happened?"
I slam one of my hands down in the sand in frustration. “I just don’t understand it. People say I’m pretty. Guys hit on me at parties and whistle at me on the beach. So why doesn’t Sander want me?”
“What do you mean, he doesn’t want you?”
“Shouldn’t the guy I’ve dated for over a year want to have sex with me? I mean, I can understand that he believes in no sex before marriage, but shouldn’t he at least have a hard time resisting me?”
Brooklyn starts laughing.
I swat his arm. "Stop laughing.” But then I can't help it, and I start laughing too. It’s funny.
Or tragic. I’m not sure which.
Or maybe it’s just the weed.
"You've been dating him for over a year.”
“I know. We really haven’t done much more than kiss.”
Brooklyn giggles and takes another hit. "That's awesome. The way he always has his hands all over you, I thought for sure you were doing it.”
"It's not awesome. It's totally embarrassing. It’s like I’m not desirable.”
He grins at me and nods his head up and down. "You should definitely break up with him." Then he stands up and says, “Come on,” pulls me up off the sand, and walks me to my door.
He leans against the mahogany door outside my bedroom. “You’re still coming with me tomorrow night, right?"
“Tomorrow night?” What is tomorrow night?
“Damian’s last gig?”
Duh. “Of course; I wouldn’t miss it. I’m sorry, B. I just have a lot on my mind right now.”
I look up into his eyes.
He smiles, leans in, and kisses the side of my head. Kind of by my temple. While his lips are still lingering close to my ear, he says, "For the record, Keats, you are very desirable."
Then he turns and walks away.
I don't dare move or take a breath. I want to relive his words over and over. I want to feel the spot where his lips touched my face. The fire that I just don't feel when Sander kisses me.
I plan out the scene in my mind. One of the many different scenes I’ve scripted for the story of my life but have yet to live.
FADE IN: MALIBU BEACH HOUSE
THE DECK BATHED IN THE MOONLIGHT.
A young couple says goodnight. The handsome surfer heads home, so the young blonde slips out of her wet and sandy dress. She’s wearing only her bra and panties.
KEATYN
(Lays dress across chaise to dry.)
BROOKLYN
(Comes back up the stairs. Sees her with no dress on. His eyes run hungrily down her body.)
KEATYN
(Shocked and slightly embarrassed at first.)
You’re back.
BROOKLYN
(Swallows hard. Desire fills his eyes.)
KEATYN
(Feeling bold, she takes a step closer to his waiting arms.)
(They share a passionate kiss. The kind of kiss that makes a girl feel desired.)
(His hands slide down her back, leaving what feels like a trail of fire behind them. The kiss is better than either one had ever imagined.)
BROOKLYN
Break up with him, and be with me.
I stand on the deck, bite my lip, and watch him walk up the beach. I don't care what my friends think. Kisses like that would be worth it.
Who cares if I’m not popular anymore?
Now if only I could get Brooklyn to follow my script. To want to play his role.
I give the beach one last look, then turn and go inside.
I grab one of my mom’s romances off my desk and read the racy parts. I pretend that Brooklyn does all those things to me.
Can’t live without me. Can’t breathe when I’m around. He kisses me hard, pushes me onto the bed, and does all the other stuff they talk about. And it’s not just the sex that I want.
I want it all.
A hot guy; one who’s sweet and sexy at the same time. One who wants me so badly he can barely control himself. One who stands up for what he believes in.
One who wouldn’t care what his friends thought.
And, maybe, one who’s been staring at the moon, too.
Saturday, May 14th
You’re single. I’m single.
8:25am
I wake up feeling determined, so I call RiAnne. She’s not as bitchy as Vanessa. Since Vanessa is the Queen Bee at our school, she can get anyone to do whatever she wants, and if they don’t, she’ll make their life a living hell.
Been there. Seen it. Burned the t-shirt.
“Have you talked to Vanessa this morning?” she asks me.
“No, have you?”
“Yeah, and girlfriend, trust me, you don’t want to. She’s super hungover and is being The. Biggest. Bitch. Ever. I called and asked if she wanted get a smoothie, and she about bit my head off.”
“Last night she offered to sleep with Sander.”
“Doesn’t surprise me. He’s about the only boy left at school that she hasn’t slept with.” She laughs. “Like, I’m not calling her a slut or anything; it’s just a fact.”
“I know what you mean. If I tell you something, promise not to tell her?”
“Last night she told me that my roots were showing and that she thought she saw cellulite on my thigh. I don’t even know why I called her. I have an emergency root touch up with Leonardo this morning and then I’m going to yell at my trainer. As hard as that man works me, there shouldn’t be an ounce of fat on me.”