“Will we see dolphins?”
“If we take the wave runners out and just sit there, we might.”
“What else?”
“Macramé a pair of sandals.” I laugh at myself. “I probably won’t do that. I don’t even know how to macramé. Let’s see. Make a necklace out of shells. I do that every time I come here.”
“I’d like a shell necklace,” he says, pulling my hand to his lips and kissing it.
“We’ll look for shells tonight,” I say as we wander into the great room and find Peyton kicked back, tropical drink in hand, nibbling off a tray of snacks.
“You need to go change,” she says to Aiden.
My surfboard.
8pm
I’ve given them the full tour, we’ve walked the beach, and we’re now sitting poolside, having a drink and a few appetizers before dinner.
Aiden is telling us about his parents’ Thanksgiving safari when Peyton says casually, “There’s a guy walking up your beach with a surfboard.” She takes another sip of her fruity umbrella drink then asks, “Do people surf at night?”
“Around sunset they do, but not usually in the dark,” I reply, instantly panicking that Vincent has found me.
But then I turn around and see him.
He’s walking up the sandy path, carrying a surfboard and looking like home.
“Oh my gosh! That’s not just any surfboard! It’s my surfboard!” I scream with delight.
I jump up and barrel towards him as he yells out, “Keats!”
I fling myself into his arms and plant a big kiss on him as he picks me up and twirls me around.
“I can’t believe you’re here!” I screech. “And you brought my board!”
When he drops me to my feet, I don’t let go. The last time I saw him, I didn’t hug him like I should have.
“I thought you were supposed to be here alone,” he says.
Shit, I think, glancing back at Aiden and Peyton. This is going to be hard to explain.
“I was but they showed up at the plane and—wait, how did you get here? Do people know you’re here? What if you were followed?”
“Calm down, Keats. I flew from Tokyo to L.A. Went to my dad’s. Even went to the Undertow and offered to play for them tomorrow night, knowing I wouldn’t show up. Then I snuck over to your house and got your board. Glad no one’s changed the garage code. Dad’s assistant picked me up at the pier, drove me around in circles, and then to the airport where I hitched a ride with a company exec to North Carolina. In North Carolina, I had another plane waiting to bring me here. No one knows I’m here but B and Dad’s assistant. Even my family thinks I’m home sleeping off jet lag.”
“I’m so glad you’re here.”
“I’m glad I’m here too. Now for what’s important. Tell me that incredible creature sitting on my deck is real and not an amazing jet-lag-induced mirage.”
“She’s real, Damian, but you can’t.”
“Oh, but I can. She has the most perfect lips.”
“Ohmigawd, no. Don’t look at her mouth. Don’t even look at her. And don’t talk to her at all.”
“I’m not going to be rude to your friends.”
“Don't you dare fall for her. You can’t.”
“Too late. She just smiled at me. I'm in love.”
“Damian. No.”
“Don’t tell me no. Be nice. I went through a lot to get here so that you wouldn’t be alone for the holiday. But, happily, you are not. And you even brought me a treat.”
“She is not your treat, but I suppose I’m going to have to have to introduce you.”
“Hell, yeah, you have to. I need to be introduced to my future wife.”
I laugh at him and start to walk back, when Damian grabs my arm and says, “You forgetting something?”
“Oh my gosh! Yes, I am!” I walk back to him with a grin. I love this boy. Ever since the first time I came here when I was nine, he's given me a piggyback ride up to the house.
He drops my board in the sand as I jump onto his back and hang on tight.
He does his normal crazy gallop up to the house, trying to get me to fall, and then deposits me on the deck in front of Aiden and Peyton.
“So, this is my friend, Damian. He brought my surfboard,” I say awkwardly, because I haven’t had the chance to figure out exactly what to say. At school, no one can contradict my lies. Damian and I need to get our stories straight.
“Damian, this is Aiden,” I say as the boys shake hands. “And his sister, Peyton.”
Damian stares into her green eyes with an intensity I’ve never seen.
“Hi,” she says, her voice cracking.
“It looks like I need a drink.” He barely gets the words out of his mouth when Sven sets Damian’s favorite pineapple rum drink in front of him. “It’s good to be back home,” Damian says.
“Home? As in, this is your home?” Aiden asks incredulously.
Damian nods.
“Where have you been?” Peyton asks him excitedly.
“Just traveling around,” Damian answers cryptically. Does he not want Peyton to know he’s in a band or is he worried about our cover story?
“Well, that’s very specific,” Aiden says in a condescending tone.
I look at Aiden. He’s not relaxed anymore. His body is stiff and he’s squeezing the life out of the napkin that was under his drink. Does he not like Damian? Is he mad that I gave him a big kiss on the cheek?
Damian glances at me, giving me his that-guy’s-a-dick look.
“Tell them where you’ve been, Damian,” I say, trying to ease the uncomfortable tension.
“Well, I recently had the pleasure of surfing all over the coast of Japan.”
Aiden smashes his teeth together and pushes himself away from the table with so much force our drinks slosh all over. “Excuse me,” he says and walks away.
Peyton looks at her brother with confusion as Damian says, “What’s his problem?”
“Uh, I don’t know.” I get up and go after him.
He’s marching quickly down the path Damian just walked up.
“Aiden, wait,” I say, running behind him. When he turns around to face me, there’s fire in his eyes.
“You seriously brought me on vacation to his house?”
“Um, yeah. He’s a nice guy, Aiden. You should get to know him.” I stare at him, not understanding why he’s so pissed. “Why are you acting like this?”
“Is that the real reason you told us not to come? Because he decided to?”
“What? No! I didn’t know he was coming, in case you couldn’t tell by my happy screams of surprise.”
“Of course. You’re his Keats. He brings your surfboard and you forget all about me and the dirt.”
“I haven’t forgotten about you or the dirt—oh, wait! He’s not the Keats guy.”
“Bullshit!” Damian yells out from behind us.
“Shut up,” I yell back.
“Don’t let her give you any bullshit stories, man. I’ve always been the Keats guy.”
I grab Aiden’s arm and march him back to the deck, saying to Damian, “Yes, you gave me the nickname, Keats. But I think he thinks you’re B.”
“Oh . . .” Damian says, finally getting it. He turns to Aiden. “Is that why you were being such a dick?” Aiden doesn’t reply, so Damian stands up, pulls me close to him, and laughs. “I may not be that Keats guy, but I was the first guy to kiss her. When she was twelve. You can be jealous of that, if you want.”
“But that’s it,” I quickly state.
“Yeah,” Damian says, faking sadness and shaking his head in sorrow. “I was always her frog.”
I smile at Damian. He’s being adorable and Aiden has already unrolled his fists.
“She hates this,” Damian says, then he licks his tongue up the entire side of my face and goes, “Ribbit!”
I playfully smack him, so he falls back into his chair.
I decide to tell them the story of how I know Damian. That
way Damian and I will be on the same page. “I’ve known Damian since I was little. We went to school together and after my dad died, my mom wasn’t coping very well, so the Morans invited us to come stay with them.”
“Back then, it was nothing like what it is today,” Damian adds.
“What was it like?” Peyton asks, batting her eyelashes at him.
“When Dad bought the property, it was a small resort. Six separate beach shacks, which eventually became pieces of the house you see today. The turret was originally on the neighboring property, but Keatyn and I were obsessed with it, so Dad bought it too. It was all that remained of a really old castle—which was home to either a Danish governor or pirates, depending on who tells the story. It was the first thing to get restored.”
“The resort was named The Carib,” I keep going, loving that this conversation has morphed into one about the property. “Carib was a reference to the Native Indians who used to live on St. Croix. But Damian and I took the i out and dubbed it The Crab.” I smile at Damian, remembering all the fun we’ve had here over the years. Back when my life was easy and carefree.
“So, pretty much anytime we came, we invited Keatyn and A—, her mom,” he says, covering quickly. “Dad always said she kept me out of trouble. And she did. She was always making up plays and making me act them out.”
I laugh. “I was sort of obsessed with the story of the frog prince.”
“And Prince Eric and every other fairy tale.”
Peyton stands up suddenly and grabs my arm. “Keatyn, come with me to get some drinks.”
I’m about to tell her all she has to do is press the button on the digital screen sitting on the side table, but she whisks me inside before I can speak.
“Ohmigawd! I just figured it out!”
“Figured what out?” I say, trying to keep the panic out of my voice.
What did she figure out? That he almost said Abby? Or that Matt and my mom have worked together on movies for years?
“That’s Damian Moran.”
I laugh with relief. “Um, yeah. I told you that.”
“No, you introduced him as Damian and then you said something about the Morans. That means his dad is the director, Matt Moran? And he’s Twisted Dreams’ Damian?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“But why didn’t you say that you knew him when we were watching his video?”
“I think I did. You probably don’t remember,” I lie. “You were busy lusting over him. I told you we’d get tickets to his concert, remember?”
“Oh, yeah, I do remember that. Anyway. Oh. My. Gosh. He is so dreamy. And even cuter in real life! Do you think he’ll sing for us?”
“Peyton, he just got off tour. I think he’s looking forward to some down time. No screaming fans.”
“Oh, of course he is. Shit.” She runs her hands nervously down her cover-up. “Do I look okay?” She peeks in a mirrored surface on the bar. “Oh, my hair is a mess. Why didn’t you tell me my hair’s a mess?”
“Damian loves windblown hair.” Shit. Why did I just say that? But it’s fine. Knowing Peyton, she’s probably just looking for a hookup.
“Did you see the way our eyes met? I swear, it was exactly how I pictured it would be with Mr. Dreamy. That instant connection. He’s amazing.”
Or not. Shit!
“Peyton, what do you mean? You don’t even know him.”
“So he’s not amazing?”
“He’s my best friend. Of course, he’s amazing. I just mean . . .”
“Fine. I don’t know him well enough yet to say, but seriously, I think I’m in love with him. He looked so sexy standing there . . .”
I tune out her gushing because they. Can. Not. Be. Together.
I picture it in my head. Vincent finding out Damian is dating some East Coast boarding school girl. He wonders how they met and immediately thinks of Miami. Of how Riley and Dallas were dressed in total prep. And then he comes to Eastbrooke looking for me. None of them would be safe.
“I think this calls for champagne,” I say, grabbing a bottle out of the fridge, four flutes from the bar, and hitting a button on the wall.
Maybe the champagne will calm me down.
Sven comes out of the kitchen. “Yes, Miss Monroe?”
“We’re having champagne to celebrate Damian’s surprise arrival. Can we get a bucket of ice?”
“Of course. Would you like me to uncork it for you?”
“No, thanks. We’ll do it.”
“Very well. I’ll bring the champagne stand out to the deck. Would you like to eat dinner poolside or on the screened veranda?”
“The veranda,” I reply as he retreats to the butler’s pantry.
“We brought champagne,” Peyton coos as she ditches her former seat for one on the couch next to Damian. I notice Damian’s eyes lingering on her long legs.
I hand Aiden the bottle. “Would you like to do the honors? You did such a good job with it the last time we had champagne.”
“And when was that?” Damian asks.
“They went to Keatyn’s loft in New York City a few weeks ago,” Peyton says dreamily as Damian squints at me. I shake my head slightly, letting him know that now is not the time for him to ask about the loft.
Aiden pops the champagne and we all stand as he fills our glasses. Then he raises his own in a toast. “‘A thing of beauty is a joy forever: its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness.’”
“That’s beautiful,” Peyton says as we clink glasses.
“And especially true, since we’re surrounded by nothing but beauty,” Damian says, holding Peyton’s gaze.
I grasp my chair and slowly sit. My mind replays B saying the same quote right before he kissed me. And how he recently texted me the rest of the quote. How I used it in my script.
I’m really starting to hate poetry.
“More Keats, huh?” I say to Aiden while Peyton and Damian flirt.
“I realize it’s risky, but it was one of the texts I sent you.”
“You mean one of the texts that you deleted.”
“Yes. I think I was somewhere between pathetic and desperate at that point.”
“What do you think it means?”
He takes a swig of his champagne, like it will give him confidence, as Sven returns with the champagne bucket.
“Dinner is served on the veranda,” he says. “Shall I move the champagne there?”
“Absolutely,” Damian replies excitedly. “I’m starved. What’s on the menu tonight?”
“Miss Monroe requested Kobe burgers—”
“With your homemade jerk sauce?” Damian interrupts.
“Of course,” the butler replies, with mock indignation. “Inga wouldn’t dare use anything else.”
“And there’s homemade French fries with her secret seasoned dip,” I tell Damian. “Your favorite.”
Peyton and Damian gather up their glasses and head toward the veranda.
Aiden grabs my pinky with his. “I think it means that love is a thing of beauty. That it never fades away. I’m sorry I was a jerk. I just thought . . .”
“It’s okay. You reacted and walked away,” I say, suddenly feeling sad. Mostly because I know he’s going to do the same thing in a few days. Only this time, he’ll walk out of my life for good. “Why don’t you go on to dinner? I don’t want to leave my board outside. I’ll just be a minute, but don’t wait for me.”
I turn and walk down to the sand, leaving Aiden standing there alone.
I pick my board up and lovingly wipe the sand off it. I remember practically passing out when B surprised me with it on my sixteenth birthday. How he told me I’d outgrown my beginner’s board. I run my hand across the hot pink and orange graphics that he designed and notice something new. Running down one of the rails is a sticker in flowing script.
I close my eyes, fighting back tears for the hundredth time today, and wonder when he added it. It had to be after he knew he was leaving, but before my party. It’s
exactly the kind of sweet thing he would’ve done. And I know exactly what I would’ve done once I’d seen it. I’d have taken my board out into the water and had a good cry; then I would’ve gotten my ass on a plane to wherever he was.
And, after hearing his side of the story, that’s probably exactly what he had hoped for.
It would have been romantic and dramatic. An amazing script.
The problem is, I don’t know how the story would’ve ended.
Would we have fought like we did in Europe and broken up for good? Or would we have ended up living happily ever after?
I carry my board to the storage area, standing it up next to the other surfboards and water toys. Before I leave, I run my fingers across the words and vow to bring chaos into Vincent’s life.
I wander over to the veranda slowly, trying to compose myself. I see Aiden, Peyton, and Damian, all sitting around the big table, laughing and eating. Well, Peyton and Damian are laughing. Aiden seems to be lost in thought.
I feel bad about what I said about him walking away, because I know I would’ve done the exact same thing.
I give him a smile and sit down next to him. He puts his hand on my thigh under the table and gives it a squeeze. I know it’s supposed to be a sweet, reassuring squeeze, but it doesn’t comfort me.
It sends tingles across my body, causing me want to forget about tomorrow, drag him to my room, strip him naked, and dare him to say no to me again.
I eat a few fries and pick at my burger—two things I normally love—while carrying on polite table conversation. After Damian steals the last fry, he says, “Peyton, would you like to go for a walk on the beach?”
“I’d love to,” she says in an unusually high-pitched voice.
She follows Damian toward the screen door but then stops and turns around.
“You guys want to join us?” she asks nicely, but I can tell it’s the last thing she wants.
“Naw, you go,” I tell her as Aiden says, “We should go.”
“Why should we go?” I ask him as Peyton rushes to the beach without waiting for us.
“I can’t just let my sister go out there with him alone. She doesn’t even know him.”
The Keatyn Chronicles: Adore Me Page 4