The following is part 9 of an extended sneak peek of:
love me
The Keatyn Chronicles: Book 4
by Jillian Dodd
Take off your pants.
1am
It’s stopped raining, but is still cloudy, damp, and chilly. I trudge back through the trees, getting my boots all covered with mud.
Aiden isn’t here yet.
Which makes me wonder about fate.
Is it fate he’s not here?
I sit down on a stump, realizing too late that it’s very wet. And now, so are the back of my sweats and even my thong.
Is there anything worse, really, than a damp ass?
This is not very romantic.
I hear the brush moving and get a momentary rush of worry about getting caught out here after curfew.
But the tree limbs part, and Aiden walks into the clearing carrying a Burberry sleeping bag.
“No way I’m sleeping outside in this weather,” I tease.
“The backing is waterproof, so we won’t get wet when we sit down.”
“Too late for that.” I turn around and show him my wet backside.
“There’s nothing worse than a damp ass,” he says. Which are the exact words I just thought a few seconds ago.
Oh, the fates are so toying with me.
He spreads out the sleeping bag with the shiny side down, kicks his shoes off, then stands on top of it and starts taking off his sweatpants.
Uh, holy shit.
What is this?
I watch though.
He has the best legs at school. They have just enough light blond hair to be masculine, but not enough to be hairy.
“What are you doing?”
“Take off your pants,” he commands.
“Isn’t this moving a little fast? I mean, we haven’t even made out yet.”
He laughs and shakes his head at me. “Silly, Boots. I’m going to let you wear my sweats. I have athletic shorts underneath.”
“Oh, um, I . . .”
“What? It’s not that big of a deal.”
“Except that my underwear got wet too.”
He runs his tongue across his bottom lip and grins at me. He’s never made this facial gesture in front of me. And the combination of his mouth and tongue both looking at me at the same time.
I can’t even tell you what it does.
It’s like my stomach flips, like I was on a roller coaster, and we just flipped upside down doing 75 mph.
You had sex with Dawson tonight, you idiot. Thought he was the one you should be with.
What is wrong with me?
I need off this ride and fast.
Have you ever been on a roller coaster, upside down, and all of a sudden it feels like maybe your seatbelt—that little piece of webbed material—isn’t quite as tight as it should be? You feel yourself slide a fraction of an inch and prepare to fall to your death before it tightens up again?
I feel like I’m ready to fall out of the roller coaster.
Plummet to my death.
And I briefly think, What would my heaven be like?
When my dad died, Mom explained heaven as this amazing place where Daddy was living his best days over and over. Like the day we got ice cream and rode the Ferris wheel then walked along the beach, the three of us, holding hands.
And my mind flashes to Aiden gliding a feather all over me. That is my idea of heaven. Not sex on the side of the road.
“You can take them off too. I won’t look,” Aiden says, referring to my wet undies as he hands me his warm sweats.
And, sadly, he doesn’t even attempt to peek as I slide them on.
I say what’s on my mind before I think better. “Have you ever been naked in these?”
He pulls me onto the sleeping bag with him and kisses me in response.
And his hands. His talented hands are finally moving across my body.
For the first time, he feels like a normal boy.
Like a normal, horny boy.
He stops and leans up on one arm. “So you figured it out, huh?”
And I want to say, That you are a god? Yes, I know.
He makes half the symbol with his fingers. It looks incomplete, so I mirror it with my fingers and hold them up to his.
And when our fingers touch, I swear to God in heaven, a spark shoots from my hand to his.
“A four-leaf clover,” I say breathlessly.
He rolls up on top of me, straddling me and pinning me under his weight. It was an effortless move.
I look at him, my eyes wide.
“Use both your hands to make the double O’s,” he tells me.
So I do.
Then he puts one hand on each side of mine, forming two more O’s.
“That does look like a clover.”
“It’s going to take both of us to make this work,” he says wisely. “I heard Dawson was taking you on an actual date tonight, before the game.”
“He says he’s going to fight for me.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Aiden says, still forming the clover. “I’m going to win.”
“It sorta looks like our hands are having sex,” I laugh. “Like the way they are joined together, kinda . . . uh, never mind.”
“Let’s talk about sex.”
Just Aiden saying the word sex almost leaves me more breathless than actual sex with Dawson.
“Uh, okay.”
He leans down, his mouth about twelve inches from mine. “We’re going to take things slow.”
“I want to take things slow. Like if you were just hoping for sex from me, you should probably halt the wooing process.”
“Does that mean you won’t be having sex with anyone else during the wooing process?”
“Um, I’m not sure. I want to say no, but I’m having kind of a hard time with that.”
“So that’s why I’m not winning? If we had sex, would I win?”
I let out a little laugh. “I don’t know. You think it would be any good?”
He runs his finger gently down my neck. “What do you think?”
I swallow hard. “God, don’t do that to me. I screwed up with Dawson and slept with him too soon, but it’s good. Really good. Frustratingly good.”
He starts to get off me, but I grab his hands.
“I really don’t want to hear this,” he says.
“You need to hear it. I think I have been convinced that because the sex is good, that our relationship is good. I mean, he’s trying. We had a nice dinner tonight. I thought I could handle going fast with the sex part of the relationship and slow with the feelings part, but I can’t. It’s all messed up. All backwards. I’m just saying, I’m not having sex with anyone again—well, anyone new—until I know they are worth it. I want to wait.”
“Boots?”
He moves closer to my face.
“Yeah?”
“I’d wait for you forever. You don’t get it do you?”
“Get what?”
“When I said I’m going to ask you to marry me, I wasn't joking. Were going to be together for a long time. There's no need to rush things when you know that.”
“Do you know how weird it is for a guy to say that? Guys hate commitment.”
“I told you, I saw you, I knew. Did you not feel it? Was it just me?”
“No, I felt it too. I just thought you were a player and fought it.”
“Don’t fight me anymore.”
I don’t get to reply. His lips quickly close the gap between his and mine.
All of a sudden, there is a huge clap of thunder and a bolt of lightening hits a tree not too far from us. Rain starts coming down in buckets.
Aiden pulls me up off the ground.
We laugh at how soaked we both instantly are.
But then we lock eyes. His lips press against mine.
And there in the pouring rain, I get The. Best. Kiss. Of. My. Entire. Life.
And I’m pretty sure with this kiss, he branded me.
Seared his initials into my skin.
Like bite marks from a vampire.
I’m his.
Everyone wants to do it.
2:30am
There were no tongues.
Just lips colliding.
Lightning around us mimicking the electricity I feel every time our lips touch.
It was a simple, single, electrifying kiss.
Which is very confusing.
I get up, go out into the stairwell, and call my mom.
“Mom, I don’t know what to do. I’m dating both the hottie god and Gorgeous. When I’m with Aiden, I want him, but when I’m with Dawson, I want him,” I whine.
“You can’t flip flop like that. It’s not healthy. Are you doing more than just kissing Dawson?”
And I don’t normally lie to my mom, but I think I have to here. “Uh . . .”
“I will take that as a yes.”
Shit.
“I was planning on not doing it with him. I was going to wait until I figured things out. But it’s very hard not to with him. To pretend like none of this happened. It just feels good. Is that wrong?”
“Sex is an emotional commitment, one that shouldn’t be taken lightly. You should be sure when you do it because once you do, you can’t take it back.”
“So where does sex just for fun come in? Come on, Mom, I know you’ve had to just hook up with someone.”
“Well, yes, maybe I have, but wow, this is sorta hard to talk about.”
“Tell me about it. You want me to talk about it, but then you don't want to tell me stuff. I also would like Tommy’s opinion on this. I’m really, really confused about it. Like I’m thinking it’s not that big of a commitment emotionally for boys. They like it, they feel in love, they say they love you, but then when their ex calls them or when some orange fake-boobed girl wants to do them in a cabana, they forget all that.”
“Keatyn, what would you have done if it Brook had texted you and said baby please?”
“I would do what I did. Tell him to go away.”
“What would you have said if you had been by yourself?”
I sigh. “I probably would have wanted some answers. I would have asked him how he could do that to me, when he said he loved me.”
“Maybe you should ask him now.”
“Maybe I don’t care.”
“I think you do.”
“So let’s get back to how to hook up without emotion. I think that’s what I am going to start doing from now on.”
“Keatyn Elizabeth. You better not. I would be very disappointed in you. More importantly, I think you would be very disappointed in yourself.”
“The god of all hotties said he’d wait. He says that when you know you are going to be with someone forever, waiting is not that big of a deal.”
“He sounds like a nice boy.”
“He sounds like he’s telling me what I want to hear. Let me talk to Tommy.”
Mom huffs, then says, “Fine. here.”
I hear Tommy’s voice smooth voice say, “Hey, baby, what’s up?”
“How did you have random sex with people you weren’t in love with?”
“Because it felt good.”
OMG. Thank god. I’m normal. That’s why I am still doing it with Dawson. It feels good.
I hear Mom in the background go, “Tommy!”
“Well, it does feel good, and that’s why guys want to do it. That’s why everyone wants to do it.”
“Yeah, it is.”
“But you’re young, and you shouldn't be hooking up with someone you don’t care about.”
“Why not? I think I’m gonna be a player. Have some fun.”
“Do you really think that’s the answer? Tell me this. If you hadn’t slept with Gorgeous, would what he did hurt as bad?”
“Uh, I’m not sure. Let me think. Um, no. It hurt because he told me he loved me. Which if you ask me is a pro-player argument. And a good reason not to give a shit and just have fun.”
“Something tells me you are not really that kind of girl. What do you think?”
“I think I’m never falling in love again, no wait. If a boy tells me he loves me, I’m never going to believe him again. I’m also seriously considering becoming that kind of girl.”
“I think you will change your mind about that in the future, but I agree. I think you should take things slow.”
“You and Mom didn’t take things slow. It worked out. It’s no wonder I’m messed up.”
“We were adults, and we just knew.”
“I just knew too.”
“Then why when you were dating and sleeping with Gorgeous, were you worrying about the hottie?”
“Tommy, you are too deep, dude.”
“Think about it and when you figure it out, we’ll talk some more.”
“I already know the answer.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I am in love with both of them.”
“You told me when you met the hottie you instantly fell in love with him. That correct?”
“Yes.”
“But you’re fighting it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because the boys I fall in love with hurt me. I’m two for two. Those are bad odds. Even Shark wouldn’t take bets on that.”
“Who is Shark?”
“Oh, a boy I met in detention. He’s my bookie.”
“You have a bookie!? And why were you in detention? You’ve never gotten a detention in your life!”
“Uh, I didn’t mean he’s my bookie. He’s like a bookie. If I wanted to do a bet—which I don’t—he’d be the guy to see. As for detention, the hottie delayed me once, well, uh, twice. I was a smidgen late for curfew. Then I was in a bad mood and maybe I cussed in French.”
“Why?”
“The hottie god was trying to tell me my lips are his bliss, but I didn’t know the French word for bliss, so I asked the teacher, and she didn’t know, and he wouldn't tell me, and so I looked it up on my phone. I was using my phone for school purposes, and she took it and put it into phone jail. And I said merde. And then I maybe said seal.”
“Your lips are his bliss?”
“Yeah, and he put little Hershey’s Bliss candies on my bed.”
“He’s putting on the full court press.”
“Oh, that’s not even all of it.”
I tell him about all the wooing. The lunch, the clover, the points, the lights, the dances, the glass clover, the tutoring, the Eiffel tower, the car door, the french dinner, even the feather, and our mating finger clover tonight, and our kiss in the downpour.
Tommy chuckles.
“What?
“The hottie likes you. A lot, baby. Has Gorgeous done anything like that? Cuz it sounds like it’s all just sex.”
“I mean there is that, but he’s also super sweet.”
“Name one thing he has done that is super sweet.”
I was going to say he was rubbing under my sweatshirt during that one game, but maybe that falls into more of the sex category.
“He brought me breakfast in bed one morning.”
“What else?”
“He walks me to class and stuff. He looks adorable when he’s waiting for me outside my dorm. He licked hot fudge off my face, invited me to the Hamptons, gave me a piggyback ride, gets me coffee, asked me out, told me he loves me, bought me a key necklace, said it was the key to his heart. Of course, then he tried to give the key to someone else, but then he told me I changed the lock because her key didn’t work anymore, and he loves me. And tonight he took me to a really cool restaurant and told me he is going to woo me, that he’s going to fight for me.”
“I think you already know who you like, you’re just afraid to like him.”
“I’m not sure about anything.”
“Give it some time, baby. Sometimes you just can’t fight fate.”
What is it with that saying?
You just can’t fight fate.
I wanna scream, Bullshit! Yes, I can! I already kicked fate’s ass when I got over the hottie god. I don’t want to believe in fate. I say screw some predetermined path. I’m blazing my own trail. I just wish to hell I knew where I wanted the trail to lead.
I get on the internet.
Type in: How to fight fate.
Don’t laugh.
I’m sure I’m not the only person that has attempted this feat. Maybe the only one that has attempted to ward off a god in the process, but still.
Most of what I pull up is lyrics and videos for some song from the early 2000’s about fighting fate. I read the lyrics, don’t like the words, because they are not telling me what I want to hear. The singer is accepting the fact that you can’t fight fate. Isn’t there someone bold out there in the world somewhere? Someone who is brave enough to share their fight on the internet?
Apparently not.
There is some quote in a movie about fighting fate.
Not helpful.
A long abandoned Facebook page.
Maybe I need to revise my search.
I type: How I can fight fate?
What happens when you fight fate?
Still no luck.
So if Aiden is my fate, why is Dawson so compelling?
I look up problem solving. Maybe I need to look at this dilemma with a more critical, logical-type approach.
And this is actually helpful.
I learn that I should try to figure out the root of my problem. Like if I was having trouble with a relationship, is it because I’ve been drinking? Because I was beaten or abused as a child? Things like that. It says you have to deal with your roots, before you can grow the plant.
Go back to my root problem.
Shit.
What did I tell Mom? I would have wanted some answers. I would have asked him how he could do that to me when he said he loved me.
We all know who my root is.
Brooklyn.
But I’ll be damned if I’m calling him.
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