Authors: Jillian Dodd
I wash my face, put on some pjs, and fall into bed.
I am just on the edge of sleep when my phone rings.
I instantly shoot up in bed, panic griping me when I see Garrett’s name.
“Did you find her? Please tell me she’s okay.”
“She posted a picture on Facebook. We can run it through our facial recognition software, but I thought you might know faster. I just sent you the photo.”
Up pops a photo of Vanessa wrapped in a pair of deeply tanned arms.
“Ohmigawd!” I squeal with delight. “She’s with Bam Bam! That's why her dad isn't reachable either. She's with her dad on Bam's yacht.”
“Want to tell me who Bam Bam is?”
“Sure. His name is Juan Fabio Martinez. He's an Argentinian polo player. He’s really talented, went pro at fifteen, and he’s only a year older than me and Vanessa. His dad owns, well, like, South America, I think. He's awesome. He's looks like a Polo Ken doll and even comes with his own set of toys.”
“His own set of toys?”
“Yeah. Yachts, boats, suitcases full of cash, a helicopter, a ranch, horses, and Ferraris. Always a Ferrari. And always red. Last count he had eight. All different years and models. Every year around this time, he has a party on the yacht. His dad does some business with Vanessa’s dad, and she and I have gone the last two years. I forgot about that. If you would have let me keep my phone, I could have saved us both a lot of worry. I'm sure he texted me.”
“So she's safe and not with Vincent?”
“I’m positive. She's safe and not with Vincent.”
“Look at the photo carefully. Are you sure it's new, not from last year?”
“I’m positive. Vanessa is in a bikini I have never seen. She has new caramel colored highlights, and Bam has a new tattoo. See the Ferrari prancing pony on his shoulder. That’s new.”
Garrett lets out a big breath. “Good. I'm still worried that we don't know where Vincent is. Will you be at school all weekend?”
“No, I'm going to my loft in the morning.”
He lets out another big breath. “Even better.”
I get off the phone and say a prayer. Thanking God that Vanessa is okay.
I close my eyes and think about going to sleep, but then I remember to call Aiden.
“Is your friend okay?” he answers with.
“Yes. I just got good news.”
“I’m glad. I've been praying for that all day.”
“Me too. Thanks for today, Aiden. For talking—well, for listening to me and for getting us out of trouble for skipping.”
A Facebook notification dings in my ear. I move my phone in front of my face to see it. Whitney has posted a photo of Dawson kissing Rachel’s cheek in the limo.”
“Wow. That hurts,” I say to myself, forgetting Aiden is on the phone.
“What hurts?” he says.
“Whitney just posted a photo of Dawson kissing Rachel.”
“On the cheek. I just saw.”
I start to cry again. I swear my emotions have been everywhere today.
“I have to go, Aiden,” I choke out.
I hang up and turn off my phone.
I told myself that I was
not
falling in love.
I’ve tried not to care about Dawson.
But, apparently, I didn’t try hard enough.
That’s it.
I am officially done with boys.
Forever.
I’ll become a nun or a lesbian or a get a sex change or something.
Maybe sew my vagina shut.
I laugh at my stupidity and then cry myself to sleep.
Saturday, September 24th
What the hell?
7am
When the alarm wakes me up at seven, I really don’t want to get up. I’m tempted to throw on a pair of sweat pants, but I decide I need to wear a cute outfit to see my new home. The thought of seeing it temporarily puts me in a good mood even though my ass is seriously dragging.
Probably because I didn’t sleep much, and when I did, I dreamt about epic battles between good and evil and, not surprisingly, evil was winning.
I fix my hair, put on an adorable chiffon Free People mini dress. Killer lace-up Givenchy boots. I throw all my stuff in a Burberry Prorsum checked tote. I’ll see my loft, then go to all the shops where Kym wants me to try on dresses. Then I’ll spend the rest of the day trying to fill my closet with new clothes. I’m not going to let a dumb boy keep me from shopping. Or a stupid stalker.
It’s time I start to live.
And I think I will start by seeing just how much damage I can do with a black card. Mom always says looking good is the best revenge. Maybe it’s time I prove her right.
I look at my clock, see it's already almost eight, grab my luggage, and head out of my dorm. I walk down the big hill to the security building, where I have to sign out and wait for my cab.
I turn my phone back on, in case the cab company needs to get a hold of me, and throw it back in my purse.
I hear my phone power up then hear numerous dings and beeps as emails, texts, and notifications start coming in.
I'll look at them in the cab. Or just delete them.
I walk into the security building, say good morning to one of the guards, and size him up. Wonder if he'd ever let Vincent in.
“Morning, Miss Monroe. Your cab is waiting outside the gate.”
“Thank you,” I say as I sign the form he puts in front of me.
“I tried to call you a few minutes ago to verify you had called for one.”
“Sorry, I didn't have my phone on. Is that the procedure for visitors? You call before you let them in?”
“We have very strict procedures about who gets on campus. We have lots of important kids here and kidnapping is always something we worry about and guard against. We've never let anyone in that didn't belong. Never had an incident in my twenty-two years here.”
I pray silently that I won’t be the first.
“There was a girl at my old school that had a stalker. He was really tricky and got through campus security by lying about who he was and why he was there.”
“Well, you can be certain that won't happen here, Miss. We check and double check before we let anyone on campus.”
He waves at a delivery truck that has just come through the gate. I notice that the guard down at the booth just waved him though. The truck never even stopped.
“What about that guy?”
“Oh, that's Gary. He's been delivering to the café for a couple years. He'll stop and have a cup of coffee on his way out.”
“What do you do if Gary is sick?”
“What do you mean?”
“What if someone pretended Gary was sick and drove his truck in?”
“Well, we’d call and verify that he was sick, but if he's in Gary’s truck, he's probably okay.”
I give him a worried look. “Yeah, maybe.”
He looks at me shrewdly. “But you’re right. That might be a weakness to consider. Oh, there's your cab. Have a nice weekend.”
My cab pulls up as I walk out of the building.
We’re loading my bag into the trunk, when a car comes flying toward us. I recognize Dawson’s BMW.
It screeches to a halt behind the cab. All four doors open as Dawson and Jake jump out of the back seat. Dallas gets out of the front passenger side, and Riley slowly stretches his long body out of the driver’s side.
I'm trying to process how Jake and Dawson are with Riley and Dallas when they are on the amazing weekend trip with Whitney and crew.
My heart is in my stomach again.
Dawson marches up to me, grabs my waist, and says, “Keatie, what the hell?”
“What the hell?” I say back. I have no idea what the hell he means. I also pull myself out of his grip. I don’t want him to touch me.
“Why didn’t you tell me Whitney told you not to come? I only went because I thought it would be fun for us to spend the weekend together with our friends.”
“They’re your friends, Dawson. They aren’t really mine.”
“Bullshit. Jake loves you. He told Whitney off and came back with me. Bryce thinks you’re cool—”
I interrupt him. “It doesn’t matter. Whitney hates me. And I don’t want any part of a group that she’s in. She’s not a nice person, Dawson. She’s really not.”
“We all know she can be a bitch, Keatie. We just never expected her to do something like this.”
“I saw the photos of you and Rachel. Whitney told me you have been texting her all week long and that you were going to hook up with her this weekend. Obviously, she was right.”
Dawson shakes his head at me. “Whitney said put your heads together and smile. I’ve known Rachel since middle school. I probably have a million pictures of us doing stuff together. We’re just friends and the only thing I have been texting her about is this weekend. I don’t like her. And Whitney led me to believe that you were in the other limo. That it would be good for you to get to know everyone. When we got to the resort, I couldn’t find you.”
I speak to Jake. “You really told Whitney off? And left her?”
“I did. I told her that royalty has to treat everyone with respect and since she did that to you, I was leaving.”
“OMG! Jake. That’s awesome. But you know it’s just going to make her hate me more.”
“I don’t care,” he says and gives me a hug.
Dawson says, “Do I get a hug too? I tried to call you. I texted you. You didn’t reply and your phone went straight to voicemail. Then Riley called me and told me what Whitney said to you. He drove four hours to come get us last night and drove us four hours back here.” He runs his hand down my arm and looks at me so sweetly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I’m ashamed I didn’t tell him. I’m ashamed I hid in the bushes and watched him leave. Was I testing him? Was I playing games with him? I don’t even know. Little tears spring into my eyes.
“I was embarrassed, Dawson. And you seemed excited to go. I didn’t want to keep you from something that all your friends were part of. She also told me that I’m just your flavor of the week. Part of me was afraid she was right.”
“What a bitch.”
“And you were mad at me. You didn’t flip my skirt at the game.”
“I was upset about you hanging out with Aiden. I was so pissed at him at halftime. I was ready to . . .”
“Yeah, I saw. So anyway, I’m heading out. Going shopping in New York. I’ll see you all when I get back.”
“Where are you staying? We could stay with my parents.”
“We?”
“I like to shop.”
“Really?”
“No, not really. But I want to hang out with you. I only said yes to Whitney because I thought we’d go together.”
“Don’t worry about me, okay. I have a place to stay.”
“Where?”
“I have a place there, okay?”
“I was excited to go on the trip with you.”
“You never once asked me to go.”
“I just assumed we were.”
Jake says, “I’ll never forget: that’s how our teacher taught us to remember how to spell assume.
When you assume, you make an ass out of you and me.
”
“I’m sorry, Keatie.”
Dawson pushes me gently against the car and says to me privately, “But I have to admit, I like this plan even better. You. Me. Alone all weekend. It’s gonna be so hot, we might burn the place down.”
“You’re cute. Before you didn’t think you were good in bed, now look at you. Burning the place down? And I didn’t invite you.”
“I bet I can get you to invite me,” he says adorably. Then he gives me a sweet kiss. Which turns into a deep, hot kiss.
My body gives into Dawson much faster than my brain does.
I smile at him and sigh. “Fine. But we have to shop.”
“I can live with that.”
While he grabs his bag out of the car, I walk over and give Riley a hug. “Eight hours of driving just for me?”
“For my brother too. No way was I gonna let the bitch win, but what surprises me even more is that you let him go. Here I thought you were tough.”
“I maybe used to be, Riley. But I don’t want to fight her.”
“You care about my brother?”
Do I? I keep telling myself that I don’t. I keep telling myself to listen to my head. To just enjoy the sex. To not get attached. But, the truth is, when he jumped out of his car and pulled me into his arms, my heart felt very happy.
“I do care about your brother. It just made me feel really alone. And I told you. I don’t want to be part of a group like that.”
“Then we’ll make our own group. You, me, and Dallas. You know we’ll always have your back.” He looks at his brother. “No matter who you decide to date, okay?”
I smile at him. “How did you know what Whitney said to me? No one heard.”
“Aiden told me.”
I blink my eyes a few times trying to wrap my head around that. Aiden told Riley so that Dawson would know? He really is trying to be nice to me. “Wow,” is all I can say. But then I give Riley another big hug and say, “Thanks for being my hero again.”
Which way to the bedroom?
11am
I lead Dawson into my new loft. It’s beautiful. Everything I wanted and more. And it’s all mine.
“Wow, this place is amazing,” Dawson says. “This room is so cool. The curved beams on the ceiling. The bar. The pool table. This is a party room. We could have some killer parties here.”
“And it’s all mine,” I whisper out before I think better of it.
Dawson hears me and says, “What do you mean?”
I probably shouldn’t tell him it’s actually mine. That would probably be difficult to explain. Gosh, I hate this. Hate lying to everyone.
“Um, I mean when they moved, um, they sold our house in California. And since I can’t go to France every time we have a break or something, I needed a place. So they bought me this. You know, so I’d have a place to keep my stuff.”
He walks over to the big, comfortable-looking couches. “This is a nice couch,” he says with a sexy grin.
“Don’t look at me like that. We have shopping to do. We have a plan for today.”
But it doesn’t go down as planned.
He grabs me and pins me on the couch, kissing me, and pulling off my dress. And there’s something so hot about the way he wants me. The way he can’t seem to wait. How his kisses are so urgent. How his hands are everywhere. How I can’t get him close enough to me. How I want him closer. How I’m guiding him towards me. How he’s like the train we were just on, running quickly down the track, with one single destination.