"Please make sure no one photographs you and Peyton together."
"They won't. It's going to be a long, lonely week. Video chatting just isn't doing it for me. Well, it sorta does it for me. Last night she was wearing a hot little nightie."
"Do you and B talk much?"
"I talked to him on his birthday, but we're both busy and, honestly, what we've always had in common is you. So, not to change the subject, but I wrote a song for Peyton."
"The one we worked on at The Crab?"
"No, that's not finished. This is a new one. I was thinking about singing it to her this weekend, but I don't want her to think it's dumb. If I play if for you, will you tell me if it's lame?"
"Tommy says you know who your true friends are if they'll tell you the truth."
"And I know you will. Hang on, let me grab my guitar."
I wait for a second, then Damian says, "I'm putting you on speaker. Here goes."
"When the stars come out at night, It's like when you walked in my life.
Burning so bright, You became my light.
Oh-ooooh-ooooh-oooh, Burning so bright.
We'll light up the sky, Like a meteorite.
With our hearts full of fire, We're pulsing inside.
Sparked by the flames Of a burning desire.
Oh-ooooh-ooooh-oooh, Burning so bright.
We'll light up the sky, Like a meteorite.
The day we said goodbye Nearly broke me inside.
And the light won't return Until you're in my arms, girl.
Oh-ooooh-ooooh-oooh, Burning so bright.
We'll light up the sky, Like a meteorite.
Oh-ooooh-ooooh-oooh, Oh-ooooh-ooooh-oooh."
He stops strumming his guitar.
"Damian, I'm in tears. The part about saying goodbye. It's beautiful. And I love the long oohs. Your voice is just so damn dreamy. You seriously amaze me. I don't think I could ever write something so beautiful."
"You wouldn't change anything? Nothing sounds dumb?"
"I wouldn't change a word. Just know that she's totally going to cry. She's a lucky girl, Damian."
"I think I'm the lucky one. I'm glad you like it. Do you think it's good enough for me to share with the band?"
"Hell, yes. Is it harder for you to share the ones about her?"
"Yeah, they're so personal that I lose my ability to be objective."
"You shouldn't. You sang that with so much emotion it gave me goose bumps. Hey, random thought, but make sure there are no pics of our families together lying around when she comes to your house."
"I'm one step ahead of you. All right, I gotta get to the studio."
"Bye, Damian."
I lean back in Cooper's chair, replaying Damian's song in my head and thinking about B. I know that the day we said goodbye broke me inside.
But I don't really feel broken anymore.
I just need to figure out a way to keep him safe.
And I think I know how.
Me: I've been thinking about your safety. You should take the photos of me off your Facebook page and start putting up photos of you and her. Maybe if Vincent thinks you've moved on, he won't feel the need to follow you.
B: I'm sorry about everything. I think it's good we're seeing other people.
Me: You're not jealous?
B: I'm trying not to be. It's kind of like when I told you I was going on tour. You said you were happy for me, just not happy for you. That's kind of how I feel.
Me: That's kinda how I feel too. I saw her hug you after you surfed. I couldn't help but wonder if Vincent hadn't happened if that would've been me. Or if you'd have been with her anyway.
B: Remember what I told you? That it doesn't matter where you've been, Keats, only where you end up.
Me: I remember.
B: It's where we END UP THAT MATTERS.
Me: I want to be back on our beach.
B: We will be. And we'll figure it all out then. Damian told me what you did. How you danced at a club in front of Vincent. Part of me thinks you're crazy. Part of me thinks you're really brave.
A few days later, Keatyn is sitting in class watching a movie.
And somehow it's triggered . . . something.
Caused it to gnaw at the corners of my brain.
It's a thought.
Or a memory.
Trying to get through.
I close my eyes for a second, shutting out my surroundings, and I'm quickly back at the Undertow.
Vincent's strong arms are around me. He's wearing a charming smile.
I relive a series of fragmented moments.
The beach.
The ashes and his loss.
Our dinner.
The brush of a hand across my knee.
Words filled with innuendo.
Kisses that lingered on my cheeks.
Standing at the railing of a deck.
Good advice.
A twirl. A hug.
A toast from across the pool.
An offer to go to his room.
Cartwheels in the sand.
His buff chest.
Blowing a kiss.
Then Garrett. Asking me why I never went with Vincent when he offered.
Was I honest when I answered that question?
I'm not even sure.
Besides, I have to look at it from his perspective.
He idolized Mom, but was always sweet.
Never once was there even a hint of animosity.
He sees the photo of me.
The original girl of his dreams.
Me.
He sets out to meet me in person, finding me on the beach.
I remember when he looked into my eyes like he knew me.
Because, to him, I was familiar.
The first photo he took was of Cush and me.
The question is, why?
Did he really already own the film rights?
And, if so, when did he buy them?
Before or after he saw the picture?
Riley knocks my elbow, causing my head to drop and almost hit the desk.
"Wake up, sleepyhead."
"I wasn't sleeping. I was thinking."
"Sure you were. Probably daydreaming about Aiden on the rug."
I close my eyes again.
Was it all just a mistake?
But then I remember the van.
Him calling Mom a whore.
The drugs.
The ropes.
The bell rings to end class, and I'm thinking about ropes as I gather up my books.
Gives a whole new meaning to the term tied up in contract negotiations, I think with a laugh.
On Thursday, December 7th, Keatyn gets a message from her grandpa. It's good news.
-All is well. We have representatives meeting with two of the investors this week. Both seem eager to sell.