I know that I don't have until March with Aiden anymore.
That his time bomb app just went off.
My biggest problem is the reporters, not my friends.
Because if they announce that I'm here, Vincent will come.
And I can't do that to Eastbrooke.
To the place I love so much.
I've been stalked and kissed and dated and loved, but now I can see it clearly on their faces.
Hate.
I hear the big metal doors behind me close and know that Peyton has made it safely out of the ballroom with the laptop.
I hate to do it, but I need to tell my friends one more lie.
Just one more lie.
And in order to do it, I'm going to have to give the performance of my life.
But I'll do it because I love them.
I stand up straighter, jut my chin out, and become the cold, uncaring bitch who takes whatever she wants from whomever she wants because she thinks she's entitled to it.
I peek through my fingers, finding Aiden.
He's the one I have to convince more than anyone.
I smirk, looking at him like he's a piece of trash, not worthy of my time, then shrug. "I came to Eastbrooke because I wanted to see if I could act. To see if I could pretend to be someone else. I lied because . . . Well, because I could. Because I'm a good actress."
Aiden darts off the dance floor.
I turn around, my eyes following him.
Wanting to talk to him.
To tell him I'm sorry.
To tell him this isn't how I wanted him to find out.
My hand reaches out toward him.
He shakes his head at me, puts his hand up in the halt position, pushes his back against the exit door, and walks straight out of my life.
Tears spring to my eyes as Whitney grabs my elbow, pulling me close to her.
"Very slick," she says. "And very interesting. But don't worry, I have backups of the photos. Peyton's not getting out of this."
I hold my head high, still in bitch mode. "Yeah, she is. Because it just so happens, I have a few photos of my own."
I reach down, take my phone out of my clutch, click a few buttons, and send her the photo where she's lying across Coach Steele's desk.
When the picture pops up, the smug look slides off her face.
I wrench my arm away from her.
"If you ever try to hurt Peyton or any one of my friends again. If any of those photos ever show up anywhere, I will show these photos to the whole school. I'll tell them how you couldn't get Camden by sleeping with him, so you settled for his brother. I'll tell them that your relationship was a sham."
"What do I care? I'm going to college."
I give her a smug, bitchy smile. "Because I'll also send them to every Ivy League school you applied to. Camden kept everything. And there are hundreds of pictures and screenshots for me to choose from. I could release one a week for the rest of your life. If you wait until we're older, then I'll send them to your boss. Your parents. Your friends. Your husband. Because you can bet on this. If those photos ever see the light of day, I will destroy you."
For the first time since I've known her, Whitney looks scared.
She nods at me in understanding, puts her head down, and slinks off the stage.
Still shielding my face, I head off the stage toward Cooper.
I can tell he's pissed.
"What the fuck was that? What the hell were you thinking? There are reporters here. We've got to get you out of here now."
"No."
"What?"
"I said no, Cooper. I'm not going anywhere. Help me out by rounding up those reporters. I need to talk to them."
As he goes off to speak to the reporters, Annie walks up to me and says, "I thought you were different. You made me believe that nice girls could be popular. I've mentioned your resemblance to Abby Johnston quite a few times. We saw her in New York! It would've been so easy for you to tell me the truth. Which means it was all just a mean game to you." She grabs Katie and pulls her into the conversation. "Katie and I are in agreement on this. We're not friends anymore. Although I doubt we ever were."
Her and Katie march away as I recoil slightly.
I wasn't expecting that from them.
I want to go after them and say I'm sorry.
But I can't.
I turn around and stare at the door Aiden just walked out of.
I want to chase him.
Beg him for forgiveness.
Tell him the rest of the truth.
But as I see Cooper and the dean herding the reporters into a room, I know that I can't do that either.
I remember Grandpa once telling me, Sometimes you can't find yourself until you're lost.
I thought it was just another silly Southern saying.
But I get it now.
I was lost.
And, somehow, throughout this whole ordeal, I found myself.
I know exactly who I am.
And if Aiden is the boy of my dreams . . .
If he really is my moon boy . . .
My fate.
Then he'll understand.
Someday.
I try to rid my mind of Aiden and focus on the task at hand.
Keeping Eastbrooke safe from Vincent.
I walk toward the room where Cooper and the dean have corralled the press.
As I get to the door, they're both walking out.
Cooper speaks to the dean in rapid-fire fashion. "She lied because she's being stalked. I'm her bodyguard. We cannot let this get out on social media or Eastbrooke itself will be in danger." Cooper points to some students on the dance floor who are on their phones.
"I can handle the students," the dean says. "What I can't control is the press."
"I'll handle them," I say confidently.
The dean walks onto the stage and takes the microphone. "All right. Everyone listen up. Take out your phones. Excellent. I'd like you to delete any photos you took of Keatyn. If any of you posted about her, Abby Johnston, Eastbrooke, or what just transpired, I'd like you to delete it immediately from any and all social networks. At Eastbrooke, we pride ourselves on our students' security and privacy. Each and every one of you knows security, excellence, leadership, and a sense of community is what keeps Eastbrooke strong. As is always our policy, we will be monitoring your social media to make sure you are showing yourself and our school in the best light. Anyone who publicly speaks of this will face detention and possible expulsion. Do I make myself clear?"
Cooper says to me, "One down, one to go. You ready?"
"I need to make a quick phone call first. While I do, could you find me some paper?"
He grabs a large decorative snowflake off the wall. "Will this work?"
I can't help but chuckle. "Yeah, that will work." Then I call Damian.
"I heard what you did for Peyton," he says immediately. "Thank you."
"Is she okay?"
"Because of you, yes. But she's a wreck. I'm headed to the airport now."
"I have a favor."
"Anything. You know that."
"I'm about to talk to the local press. In order to keep them quiet about me being at Eastbrooke, I need to give them a bigger story."
"Bait and switch. Hollywood does it all the time."
"Unfortunately, I don't have a bigger story to offer."
"But I do. That's why you called me."
"You're right. Damian Moran's date in New York City with his new girlfriend would do the trick. But we'd have to fix Peyton's social media first so Vincent can't connect her to me."
"Of course. We'll do whatever you need. It's the least we can do."
"Aiden walked out when he heard the truth about my mom."
"You told everyone the truth? Peyton was sobbing, so it was hard to follow exactly what happened. She just kept saying you saved her."
"I told them who my mom is, but I didn't tell them the truth about why I lied. I told them it was because I wanted to prove I could act."
"Why didn't you tell them about the stalker?"
"Because there are people here who would call Vincent themselves if they knew the real story. I have to protect my friends. Protect Eastbrooke."
"You should be protecting yourself."
"That's next on the list. Okay, I have to go."
"Let's meet tomorrow to discuss."
"Damian?"
"What?"
"Thanks for always being my friend."
"I love you. I'm pissed and scared that you outed yourself but, at the same time, I'm proud of what you did for Peyton. Seriously, Keats, you've changed. I like it."
Cooper motions for me to follow him.
"Thanks, Damian. I gotta go."
I follow Cooper into a room where the press, three reporters and two cameramen, have gathered. All of them are young.