Ashley takes my smile as flirting, because now she's caressing the bicep she was admiring.
My parents are right, though. If Dawson doesn't ask her this weekend, I'm going to ask Monday night at tutoring.
I just don't know how.
I look up at the stars and wonder if she's looking at them right now, too.
Probably not. They're probably in bed.
I snatch the bottle out of Alicia's hand and take a long slug.
"My turn," Ashley says, taking a slug of her own. "So, Aiden." She slides closer to me. "I heard you don't have a date for Homecoming yet. You planning to ask anyone?"
"Probably," I reply noncommittally.
She hands the bottle off to someone and rests her hands on my hips. "Wanna go for a walk?"
A walk isn't really what she wants. I know exactly what will happen if I agree. We'll go to the lacrosse field and hook up-like we have before.
And I want to hook up.
Just not with her.
Part of me wonders what would happen if I did. If Keatyn would hear about it. If it would make her jealous. But jealousy would imply that she actually likes me.
Although most of the time she acts like she doesn't, I know differently.
In the chapel, she seemed so fragile. So sweet. And the way she clung to me- "Aiden!" Ashley says. "I asked you a question."
"Um, I'm not feeling great. Maybe some other time," I say, not wanting to hurt her feelings. When did I start to care? In the past, I wouldn't have said that. I would have just told her I wasn't interested. Actually, that's a lie. I would have taken her somewhere to hook up. But that was before Keatyn. Somehow, she's changed me.
"But-" she says as I give Logan a quick salute and get the hell out of there.
On the way back to my room, I run into Chelsea coming out of the boys' dorm.
"Hey, Aiden. All alone?" I roll my eyes and don't bother to reply. As I walk past her, she grabs my arm. "I was talking to you."
"Yeah, well, I don't have anything to say."
"You miss me," she says. "We were good together."
"You were screwing around on me. Somehow, that doesn't constitute good."
She leans in and tries to kiss me. I dodge her. "Don't."
"I'm sorry, okay. I'm sorry about Prom night. I was drunk." She gives me a sweet smile. "I think we should try again, Triple A. Let's go to your room. I'll make it up to you."
I hesitate for a second, because it was good. And I really thought I liked her. But then she humiliated me.
Chelsea responds to my hesitation by placing her lips on mine and shoving her tongue in my mouth.
I push her off me. "Stop it. You're coming out of the dorm. I'm not into sloppy seconds."
"That's not what I hear."
"What do you mean by that?"
"You and Dawson are both doing the new girl. I heard they're together this weekend. Probably doing all sorts of fun, naughty things. I mean, Dawson is fine."
"I'm not doing the new girl," I tell her, backing away further. "It's not like that."
"You haven't hooked up with her?" Her eyes widen. "Wait. Do you really like her? Like you did me. When you like a girl you make her wait."
"I didn't make you wait. We'd been together all of two weeks. I just thought-"
"I was into you."
"Well, you certainly acted like it. We'd done everything but had sex."
"So we did some stuff. Big deal. And you have no room to talk. You had been with plenty of girls. You asked me to Prom, not to be your girlfriend. I assumed you were still having fun, too."
"It really doesn't matter anymore, Chelsea. I don't care."
She pushes me against the wall and slides her hand down my chest. "I'm just going to say it. I want you, A. Tonight. Now. Tomorrow. Let's go to Homecoming together. Rewrite our fate."
"Sorta like fate," I mutter.
"Exactly," she says, bringing her lips to mine.
I put my hand in front of my mouth to block her kiss, not wanting her to ruin my lips again.
"Not interested, Chelsea," I say, then turn to go up to my room.
I shut the door in her face when she follows me, but from outside the door she says, "All you'll ever be is Keatyn's sloppy seconds, Aiden. You should forget about her and be with me."
I don't bother to reply, but as I flop on my bed, I can't help wonder if she's right.
I try to go to sleep, but my brain won't stop running through my past with Chelsea.
Logan and Maggie were going to Prom together. They were happy and in love. It was all mushy and gooey, and something I hadn't yet experienced. I thought Chelsea was hot, so I asked her to Prom one night at the Cave. She said yes, and things were intense between us for the two weeks before.
I thought it was love.
I don't think I really loved her. I think I wanted to be in love. To experience more than just the rush of hooking up. To have someone who cared about me for more than just what I did on the soccer field or the way I looked. Which is completely hypocritical, because I thought I was in love with Chelsea for two reasons. She looked sexy in her little cheerleading outfit, and she gave great head. Probably not the makings of a fairytale love.
I remember being so embarrassed of myself, my actions. Getting drunk, ruining Logan and Maggie's night, getting it on with not one, but two girls.
And then I made that damn wish on the moon.
For my perfect girl.
I get off my bed and gaze out my window at it.
I know I got my wish. I know Keatyn is my perfect girl. I just thought when that girl came into my life it would be easy and effortless.
Then I start thinking about what she told me in the chapel yesterday. Replaying it all. Her friend being stalked. Almost kidnapped at her party. How her friend just up and left and didn't tell very many people. How she's living under a different name. How her parents are famous. How she feels like she's living a lie.
The more I think about it, the more certain I am. She was talking about herself.
So who is she?
I shut my blackout curtains, turn on the lamp over my bed, grab my laptop, and start searching.
I start with her name, Keatyn Monroe. But all I really get from that is a bunch of Marilyn Monroe. I go through pages and pages of searches, but can't find anything.
I switch to an image search, still nothing.
So I try Facebook.
None of the Keatyn Monroes are her.
Then I search her name and the word stalker.
Nothing.
But wait, she said her friend is lying about who she is. Could she have changed her name?
Or maybe just her last name?
I search just Keatyn.
Then switch to Keatyn on Facebook.
I search through hundreds of profiles, not finding her.
I stand up and pace the room.
What do I know about her? She lived in California. Famous parents.
Famous and California, could her parents be actors? Involved with Hollywood? Or maybe a professional athlete? Or run a company people would know of?
I look at the clock and sigh. It's nearly four in the morning. This is ridiculous.
I've been searching for way too long.
Clearly, I am obsessed.
But, at the same time, I feel a little bit invigorated. Like I'm getting closer.
I search the name Keatyn along with the words famous parents. I get a lot of hits about current actors with famous parents, but still not what I'm looking for.
What do people in Hollywood do? Where do they go? Move premieres, right?
I type in Keatyn, Movie Premiere using the image search function.
I scroll through a few pages, my vision starting to blur.
I'll look through these and then stop for the night.
On page ten, my eyes move across the screen in a haze then stop.
Wait. What was that?
I go back a few pictures and spot a photo that could be her.
I click to make it bigger.
It's a photo from a popular kid's award show. I immediately recognize the actress Abby Johnston. And standing next to her is Keatyn Douglas, daughter of the late Mark Douglas.
Wow. I was right.
I can't help but smile. She's about twelve in the photo, not as tall as her mom. Her face is still chubby with baby fat, not the chiseled cheekbones she has today. Her hair is long and blonde, she's tan, and wearing just a little mascara. She and her mom share the same smile, and she's adorable.
I do a quick search to pull up Mark Douglas. See he was a professional model. And that she has her father's eyes.
I stop, get up to stretch my legs again, and grab a Mountain Dew and a bag of chips. I need caffeine and food.
After chugging about half the can and shoving chips into my mouth, I switch to Facebook and easily find Keatyn Douglas. There's a photo of her and a guy. I click on it and read her description. Me and B in Monaco. <3 I scroll through her other photos. Her and the guy, who's real name is Brooklyn Wright, looking in love. On the beach. Surfing. Kissing. Getting matching tattoos. Her with her BFFs, Vanessa and RiAnne. Her prom night, looking gorgeous in a sparkly gown with a handsome guy who looks sort of familiar. Then some photos of her with another guy named Cush.
I close my eyes, feeling like a stalker. Feeling like I'm invading her personal life.
But at the same time, I need to know.
I click on the album titled Birthday Party. She's looking exceptionally hot, wearing a little strapless cream dress with a flouncy skirt, her long legs tan and her feet encased in gorgeous heels with jewels on them. She's wearing a simple gold heart locket, the one she wears every day. I notice the date. Saturday, August 20th.
I glance at my calendar. Her first day here was Thursday, August 25th. Orientation day. The day she kicked the soccer ball at me. Only five days after her party. I remember what she told me in the chapel. She invited him to a party. There was a commotion. He told her he was taking her to a van out back. But she got away. A guy fought with him. The police came. They took her statement. She was hysterical. Threw up. She'd been drinking. It was her word against his. There was just not enough evidence.
I click out of her photos and take a look at her wall.
There is a post yesterday morning from RiAnne. It says, I miss you.
I scroll back some more. See the talk about her. The gossip. The rumors. She is the one who left. She's the one lying about who she is. She's the one who almost got kidnapped. That's why she was so upset today. Why she was shaking.
She said only a few people know she left.
And one of those people has to be Brooklyn Wright. I've seen their texts. That means she trusts him. Were they two people pulled apart by circumstances beyond their control?
Does she still love him?