The Keatyn Chronicles: Books 1-3: (Stalk Me, Kiss Me, and Date Me)

by Jillian Dodd

  “I’m gonna need it. I have no idea what I’m going to say,” Brad says, looking worried.

  I think back to one of Tommy’s movies. He played a seemingly average football coach, who was really a kick-ass espionage spy.

  “Aw, that’s easy,” I say. “Just remember these words: kill, kick ass, destroy, annihilate, win, and GOOOOOO COUGARS!”

  Dawson grabs my ass. “I think maybe we should just let her talk for us.”

  “Or bring her out there with us. No one will even be looking at us.”

  I roll my eyes at them. “You’re silly. I gotta get to class. Nice meeting you, Brad. I’ll email you some ideas.”

  During first period, I ask Riley what he thinks of the idea of themed weekends.

  “Sounds like a lot of work,” he replies.

  I frown, so he adds, “But fun. Very fun.”

  I start an email and brainstorm ideas. Let’s see, what were some parties I’ve been to?

  There was a Moroccan themed bash, complete with belly dancers. How fun would that be? Have someone teach us to belly dance. There was great food, lots of pretty, brightly-colored fabrics, oh, and someone was doing henna tattoos, and the music was very chill. People smoked from elaborate hookahs and drank different kinds of bold teas. Embroidered pillows were scattered around low tables. There were colored lanterns. I wore a turquoise dress with golden embroidery. I think I was about twelve and I remember feeling extremely grown up.

  Then there was the classic beach luau Tommy and Mom had at our house in Malibu. Drinks served in pineapples, floral leis as everyone arrived, tables laden with exotic fruits and flowers, a whole pig roasting in a pit in the stand. (Truth: it was a fake pig, a stage prop, not sure how it was flammableish, but whatever. Mom is a big supporter of animal rights and although she eats meat, seeing it roasted whole in front of her was not appetizing.) There was a combination of Hawaiian music and beach boys. Surf boards out front. Surfers were “performing” as in surfing before sundown, the beach was lit with tiki torches, hula girls were dancing, and there were some big sumo wrestler-looking guy who could eat fire on a sword or a stick. I’m not sure. I couldn’t watch. I think this theme would be good when we are all sick of the snow. Guests wore bikinis, floral shirts. It was chill, laid back.

  Mom did a Parisian themed baby shower for her best friend, Millie Rodriguez. Wandering artists in berets, a chocolate replica of the Eiffel tower—a little overboard, if you ask me—pink and black awnings, amazing French food, cigarettes in long holders, waiters in black tails. Old black and white French romance movies playing on a big screen across the back yard.

  Then I think about other themes, like toga/Greek, the 70’s and other eras, Harry Potter, Safari, Aliens, Masquerade.

  I send my ideas in an email to Brad. I even suggest that we get other clubs involved. Like maybe let the art department, either teachers or the art club, raise funds by henna painting or drawing characters. I also suggested that each week there is some kind of contest, to get the competitive spirit going, and that each theme we do we have a charity we raise money for. I was also thinking the girls will probably get into it, but I’m not sure about the boys, so maybe the competitions are fun, or somehow sports-related. I told him I would defer to him on that. I mean, even lawn darts and croquet can be highly competitive.

  If nothing else, I told him, it will look great on our college applications, and we’ll have some fun doing it.

  She likes to knock boots.

  French

  I plow through the rest of the day, buzzed on caffeine and getting surprisingly nervous about the pep rally. I’m not even nervous to go to French today. I mean, I tutored Aiden without letting his lips touch mine.

  I can, however, feel the exact spot where his touch practically burnt my skin. It’s right here, at the top of my pinkie and across to my middle finger. There’s no noticeable scar or anything, but I can still feel it.

  He is pleasant during class, but then he makes me worry. “Don’t screw up at the pep rally today. My sister said you guys don’t really have the dance down very good.”

  “I have the dance down just fine. I won’t be screwing up.”

  I hope.

  Oh. I should have paid better attention yesterday. Damn him for distracting me when with his, It’s tutoring with food crap.

  Annie, who has become my official Student Council campaign manager, says, “Okay, so we can start putting up campaign signs Monday morning at 6 am, so we’re going to have to work on signs all weekend. I was thinking we’d do something fun and girly, lots of purples, pinks, silver glitter. But I haven’t come up with a good campaign slogan for you yet.”

  From behind me Aiden says, “How about Vote for Boots. She likes to knock boots.”

  I turn around, so totally and completely offended.

  My face is probably screwed-up looking, but I don’t care.

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “Oh, uh, yeah, that’s probably a bad idea. I was thinking like knocking boots, as in kicking a soccer ball with the boots, not, uh . . .” He runs his hand through his beautiful, dark blond hair in frustration. “Gosh. I’m sorry. Shit.”

  “Merde.”

  “What?”

  “It’s shit in French. At the very least, I hope I can teach you to cuss properly. Whatever.” I turn to Annie. “I have a campaign idea. I want to use the school colors. All the signs will be red and yellow, with lots of gold glitter and leopard. I was thinking, Vote for Keatyn Mon-roaaaarrrrr. Like you roar at football games? What do you think?”

  Aiden whispers in my left ear. “Rawwwrrr.”

  And holy merde. He growls so sexily. The thought crosses my mind that I would like to make him growl for real.

  In bed.

  Annie says, “That’s such a good idea and using school colors is brilliant. We’ll make some cool signs. I’ve already managed to sneak some wine into my room. We’ll drink, make posters, and watch cheesy movies all weekend.”

  “We have the dance team sleepover tonight, but for the rest of the weekend that sounds good.”

  Aiden whispers from behind me, “So what about fuck?”

  And, for a second, I thought he asked me to, well, you know.

  My face gets all hot. I feel like I’m going to faint. The idea of doing that with Aiden is overwhelming. I grab Annie’s diet Coke off her desk and down it.

  Regain my senses.

  I finally realize that even though Annie and I moved on, Aiden is still talking about dirty French words.

  I take a deep, cleansing breath.

  “Well, there isn’t just one word. And it sorta depends how you mean it. How do you mean it?”

  “Um, what if I wanna tell someone to fuck off?”

  “You could say, Casse-toi! which, really, is a nicer way to say it. It’s more like saying, piss off.”

  Miss Praline starts class and is blabbering on about French club and not actual French class, so Aiden passes me a note.

  Sorta like fate.

  2:55pm

  I’m looking out at the bleachers filled with students and praying I do well. I would pray that I don’t trip, or fall down, don’t forget a kick, or miss a step, but Mom read some child-rearing book recently and says we aren’t allowed to say don’t or can’t anymore. They say when you tell someone don’t fall down, that’s what they focus on, and that’s what they do. So I’m telling myself, do the routine perfectly, kick as high as you can, have a smile on your face, don’t panic, um, I mean, be calm.

  Okay, it’s time!

  I run out there, smile big, and do the dance.

  And I did it!

  I did the routine perfectly—well, not completely perfectly; I was a little late on one kick, but that was because for a second I was blinded by Aiden’s smile.

  We jump around with the cheerleaders.

  Coach, Brad, and Dawson walk out to huge cheers. While Brad is speaking, Dawson looks over and winks at me.

  Afterwards, I head to the library t
o meet Aiden.

  On the way there, I get an email from Sam.

  Congratulations. As of the close of business today, you are a new loft owner. I’ve taken care of setting up the insurance, the utilities, cleaning company, and security. You should be all set.

  I message him back a thank you, along with the name of the designer he will be getting a bill from.

  Then Brad and Annie text me.

  Brad: Your ideas rock. I’ll go with you to talk to the dean about it. This weekend?

  Me: Sound good! You’re speech was awesome. Very motivational.

  Brad: Thanks :) Your dance was awesome. A lot of the girls messed up. You didn’t.

  Me: I was off on one kick, but I don’t think anyone noticed. Kick ass tonight!!

  Annie: I have a sample sign done. Want you to see it. Where are you?

  Me: Just walking in the library to tutor Aiden.

  Annie: Oo la la. Be right there.

  Aiden says, “What’s up, B-Moi?”

  “You know, it almost sounds like you’re saying be mine.”

  “I sorta am, aren’t I? Well, in a more intimate way.”

  “Okay, so when we travel to France someday, I’m thrilled that you’ll be able to cuss and get laid, but we need to focus on your vocabulary words for this week.”

  “You want to go to France with me, huh?”

  “What?”

  “You said when we travel to France someday.”

  “I, uh, you know what I meant.”

  “Yeah, I do.” He gives me a blazing smile. Like, full wattage, bigger than I have yet to see. It radiates up to the top of his blonde spikes. He puts his elbow on the table and rests his chin on his fist. Then he looks at me in his dreamy way. “We will definitely go to France together. Maybe I’ll ask you to marry me there. Top of the Eiffel Tower, sunset?”

  “I don’t even like you. Why would I marry you?”

  “You love me.”

  I laugh out loud and get a couple shushes from the people sitting near us.

  “Come on, Boots, you know I’m right.”

  “I know nothing of the sort. And you really need to focus, or you will not be passing French, and I’m not the kind of girl that likes to fail.”

  “And I’m not the kind of boy who will take no for an answer.”

  I let out a frustrated breath of air, which blows my bangs up off my face, and just start French. “Okay, so chicken is what?”

  “Poulet.”

  “Good. How about bread?”

  “Pain.”

  “Right, but say it like this. Pain. It’s more like pan, but the N is more nasal sounding.”

  “Pain. You’re going to be a pain in the ass, I can tell.”

  “Hey, I’m helping you here.”

  “How do you know I’m not purposely failing, so you will tutor me?”

  “Because last year you almost failed, and you didn’t know I existed.”

  He ponders that for a minute. “Naw. I’m good at every class. Straight A’s. All AP classes. How do you say fate in French?”

  “Sort”

  “Yeah, exactly. It’s sorta like fate.”

  “Don’t you need to be getting to football? You know, so you can sit on the bench?”

  “Silly, Boots. You’re looking at tonight’s starting Varsity receiver.”

  “Oh. Well, congrats.”

  “You’re going to be cheering for me.”

  “I’m going to be dancing.”

  “For me.”

  “For the team, silly.”

  “We need to dance again. Under my lights.”

  “Say it in French.”

  “Uh, danse avec moi, um, under lumieres, tonight, um, I mean, noir?”

  “Close enough. Good.”

  “So is that a yes?”

  “Non, I have a dance sleepover.”

  “Merde.”

  “See you’re learning. And you’re gonna be late. Go.”

  He looks at the clock and says, “merde,” again and then stops and looks at me.

  “Good luck, Aiden.”

  Annie runs up to the table and tosses a poster on it. “What do you think?!”

  She’s very excited.

  “Oh my gosh! That looks fantastic! I love how you did the Roar part coming out of a megaphone with the cougar sticker on it. Adorable.”

  She looks around. “Can I talk to you?”

  “Sure.”

  “Ace asked me to hang out in his room on Saturday.”

  “And?”

  “And, does that mean he wants sex?”

  “Not necessarily. Have you asked him?”

  “No. I don’t want to sound stupid. I don’t want him to know I’ve never done it.”

  “I was in Aiden’s room recently. Nothing happened.”

  “I’m hoping to kiss him this weekend.”

  “He has nice lips and awesome arms. I think kissing Ace would be fun.”

  “You want to kiss him?”

  “No! Like, I think you will enjoy it.”

  “Yeah, probably. I hope so. What if he doesn’t try and kiss me?”

  “Kiss him?”

  “Maybe.”

  “So are you going to do it with Dawson soon?”

  “Do you think I should?”

  “He seems to make you happy and kind of giddy. You still sort of obsess over Aiden, but it seems like you’re always mad at each other.

  “Yeah, and you’re right. Dawson does make me happy.”

  Party, celebrate, hookup.

  10:40pm

  We win the game. I dance well. Dawson plays really well.

  I meet him outside the locker room afterwards to give him a kiss before I go to the dance thing.

  He throws one arm around my shoulder while we’re walking toward his dorm with Ace, Brad, and Bryce.

  “So what are you guys gonna do tonight without us girls around?”

  “Oh, there’s gonna be plenty of girls around,” Brad tells me.

  “We’re gonna party, celebrate, and hookup,” Bryce yells.

  “Amen, brother,” Ace adds.

  I look at Dawson. He’s grinning too, like that’s exactly what he’s planning on doing.

  And that irritates me a bit. I know I have no rational reason to be irritated, but I am.

  I walk faster, causing his arm to fall off my shoulder. “Well, you have fun. See ya later.”

  Then I walk fast toward my dorm, not looking back. Actually, I’m not walking fast. I’m marching. I probably look like Gracie does, when she screams, NO! and marches away from you, clutching whatever she doesn’t want to give you back. Usually your phone.

  From behind me I hear Dawson say, “Keatie, why did you just leave like that?”

  I try to keep the emotions I’m feeling out of my voice. Which means, I resort to my bitch voice. “I have to get to the sleepover, and you have to get to your celebrating and hooking up.”

  “Yeah, I actually want to talk to you about that.”

  Great. See, I was right. He didn’t want me to kiss Dallas last night, but it’s okay for him. Damn. I totally should have made out with Dallas.

  “Go ahead,” I say. “Talk.”

  No wait. I’m not doing this. I’m not gonna be disappointed. I’m the one that doesn’t want to be in a relationship. He can kiss whoever he wants.

  But then I look at him standing there, dark and gorgeous in front of me, and I can’t help but feel jealous. I don’t want his hot lava kisses touching anyone else’s skin.

  He pulls me into his arms. I want to resist, but I can’t. He kisses me. I kiss him back. And it’s a really good kiss. Why would he want to kiss anyone else?

  “Mhmmm. I love kissing you. Keatie?”

  “Yeah, just say it, Dawes. Get it over with.” I roll my eyes at him.

  “Get what over with?”

  “Telling me you’re gonna hook up with other girls tonight.”

  He kisses my check. “I don’t wanna hook up with anyone but you. I want
ed to tell you that I’m going to miss you. I know you think we’re not ready to be in a relationship, but I’m not interested in anyone else.”

  “Really?” I smile. It’s hard not to smile about that. “That makes me happy.”

  “I want to make you happy. So, um, any chance you can sneak away tonight?”

  “Probably not.”

  “Then come to my dorm room real quick,” he says with a grin. “I have something I want to give you.”

  “Dawson,” I say, assuming what he wants to give me is currently residing in his pants. “I have to go.”

  He takes my face in his hands. “Please.”

  “Okay, but we have to hurry.”

  We run to his room. I’m slightly out of breath when he pushes me against the door and gives me a deep kiss. My body immediately heats up.

  I press my fingers into his sides guiding his hips closer to mine.

  “Mhmmm, Keatie, you’re going to have to stop that or I’m going to forget why I brought you here.”

  I press my lips into his neck and suck on the spot near his ear that seems to drive him wild. “I thought this was exactly why you brought me here.”

  He playfully makes a big gesture of pushing me off him. “There is a little present for you somewhere in this room. It’s your job to find it.” He walks over and lies back on his bed. “Better start looking.”

  “Do I get any hints as to what I’m looking for?”

  “How bout I tell you if you’re warm or cold?”

  “Or hot?” I say, my eyes smoldering, taking in the sexy way he’s lying across his bed. He’s freshly showered, wearing red Cougar athletic shorts and a white XXL Cougar T-shirt with the sleeves and most of the sides cut out. I can see glimpses of his buff chest and abs. He’s got his elbow bent and is leaning on his arm, which causes his bicep to flex.

  “You’re already hot,” he says. “I have a hard time focusing on the game when you’re dancing. I have this little fantasy where I get to strip that gold glitter thong off your sexy little ass and do you right there on the field.”

  “Dawson!” I shrill, then giggle. “What am I looking for again?”

  “Small wrapped package.”