Keatyn Unscripted (The Keatyn Chronicles Book 8) Read online

  It’s gorgeous!

  But I still don’t know what it means.

  It’s a big elaborate seduction scene. I can’t imagine a boy going to this much trouble for anything else. No wonder he got so many girls last year. I mean who wouldn’t fall for all this shit?

  Well, except for me. Because I know what he’s trying to do.

  And I feel disappointed.

  Really disappointed.

  “I don’t get it,” I say. “I thought you wanted to dance with me? Or did you have a uh, different kind of dancing in mind? If you want to have sex with me, at least be honest with me and tell me that’s all you want.”

  He looks around, panic on his face. “Shit. That’s not what I want. Oh, that is kinda what it looks like. Crap. I’m sorry. No. Let me start over.”

  He walks over, grabs a clear corsage box off his dresser and hands it to me. “This is for you.” It’s a beautiful cascade of deep purple roses. I’ve never even seen roses this color. (Axed this. The first time he gives her flowers comes much later.)

  He takes it out of the box, slides it on my wrist, holds out his arms. “All this is not supposed to be a seduction. This is supposed to be me, recreating a dance. I wanted to dance all twenty-nine dances with you all alone. I even have a 29 song playlist on my ipod if you’re ready.” He grins. “They’re kinda all slow songs too. I want to dance slow with you.”

  And then I feel amazing again.

  Like all is right in the world.

  He turns on the music, pulls me into his arms and sways with me. By song four, we are barely moving, but my body is molded up to his again. And once again, we are staring at each other, not saying a word. One of his hands runs lazily up my arm, then across my shoulder, then across my jawline, under my chin. And then finally, across the back of my neck, pulling me toward his lips.

  We kiss. Soft, slow gentle. I seriously have never felt anything so intense. How can soft butterflies flitting through the air kisses have so much power over me? (Because you love him!)

  I was right, for sure his powers are in his mouth. And he is so using them against me. And I am but a mere mortal. I can’t resist.

  “Want some champagne?” he murmurs. “I have chocolate too.”

  I don’t want to stop dancing, really don’t want him to let go of me.

  “I really don’t want to move from this spot.” I tell him. Told you. I can’t lie to him. What’s wrong with me?

  He gives me another soft kiss, “You don’t have to move.”

  He does though, pops the bottle, pours it into glasses, hands me one.

  He puts his glass up in the classic I’m about to do a toast position, so I don’t take a drink yet. He says, “Now a soft kiss, ‘aye that kiss, I row in endless bliss. Cheers.” (Oh, shit, Aiden. Bad move.)

  He takes a drink. But I don’t. I’m standing here frozen.

  Like Oh Shit, What Just Happened here frozen.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks me, “Do you not want champagne?”

  “You just quoted Keats.” I say, still shell shocked.

  “Yeah, you knew that, huh? It’s a great quote, right? I read it today and it reminded me of you. Of our kisses. How they make me feel.”

  I put my hand up to my face, to the bridge of my nose, run it across my eyebrow. My hand is shaking.

  I look down at my champagne. And drain the fricking flute. “Can I have some more, please?”

  “Uh, sure.” He pours me some more. I drain that glass too. I’ve never done champagne shooters before, but hey, there’s a first time for everything, right?

  “More?”

  “Okay,” he says, taking away my glass. “What’s going on? Why are you downing champagne like it’s a Jaeger bomb?”

  He pulls me back into his warm arms. And my mind is replaying my last night with Brooklyn, trying to decide if we had true love, or if this is it. Did I just get some kind of sign? And was it a he quoted you Keats, you are destined to be together sign, or a he quoted you Keats, you should be thinking about Brooklyn and run away from him kind of sign? (In the published version, you got to see her and B together and felt her emotions and the crush and love she had for him. In this version, all you really know is they slept together, and it seems like she’s being a bit overdramatic here. By spending more time with her and B and their summer of love, it makes more sense why she freaks out here.)

  He starts swaying against me. And before I can think any more thoughts, he is kissing me. Really, freaking kissing me. The kind of kisses I have been dreaming about.

  Oh my. What ever the people who make the gods did, they did this one up right. But then of course, he’s using his mouth on me.

  What else would I expect?

  Other than a few more, earth stood still, brain shattering, meteor showering moments. (She is so expressive and lyrical when she talks about Aiden. It was so funny to me that people didn’t know they would end up together. HE IS THE ONE!)

  His hands are in my hair now. Then he stops kissing me, takes off his suit jacket. He has on just his black T-shirt and his arms are so hotly jacked. I run my hands across his muscles.

  “Tell me the quote again.”

  “Now a soft kiss, aye that kiss, I row in endless bliss.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “You’re beautiful. I haven’t told you that yet tonight, have I? How I didn’t even recognize you at first. I just saw this amazing body in a sinful dress and thought, Wow, who is that? Then I looked closer and realized it was you. Your hair is,” he laughs, “well, its looking a little messed up right now, but it looks even sexier. Do you have any idea how sexy you are?”

  “No, I don’t. And last night. I thought, I mean I really thought you didn’t like me.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Because we were completely alone in a room and all you did was kiss me. We didn’t even make out!”

  “Is that why you cried?”

  “Uh, no. I cried cuz Dawson kissed me and it was gross. And my lips felt amazing from kissing you, and then they felt gross and it made me sad.”

  “I fixed that though. I kissed you again.”

  “Yeah, you did. My lips are feeling a little gross right now.”

  “Oh really?” he mutters and kisses me some more. But no matter how much he kisses me, no matter how long he kisses me, it’s like he gave me a love potion, and I can’t get enough. I will never be able to kiss him enough.

  Song 18.

  “I’m tired of dancing.” he says, and pulls me down on the futon with him. I look over and see the keg of beer is still in his room.

  “You always keep a keg in your room?”

  “No, well we have to move it all around, so we don’t get caught. But, yeah, usually. Our dorm advisor thinks I’m a good boy. So he never checks my room. Do you want a beer?”

  “Actually, yeah. That sounds good.”

  He gets up and pours us each a beer.

  “So you still haven’t told me about the quote. Why did your face go completely white, when I said it?”

  I try to think of a good story, but I can’t come up with anything, so I tell him the truth.

  “The guy I dated, hung out with, my best friend, calls me Keats. He also loves any kind of old literature and quoted me Keats a lot. And we had kind of an intense night (Make that, summer.) before I left to come to school. But he told me that I should experience all school has to offer, and that includes high school boys, so here I am.” (Somehow I’m not sure “experiencing” high school boys is what he meant.)

  “And you’re in love with him?”

  “I love him. We’ve been best friends for three years, but I don’t know if it’s like true love. Like if you even believe in that stuff. Like soul mates and stuff.”

  “I believe in that stuff. I told you that. I also told you that’s why I didn’t stay with the girls I dated for very long. I kept thinking it could be something, but then I just couldn’t make it be something, so we broke up. I’ve
never done anything like this for a girl before. I’ve never quoted her poetry. You are different, Keatyn.”

  There we go, the You Are Different line. Player, player, player.

  I giggle. “In other words, I’m weird?”

  “Pretty much,” he laughs, and then pulls me back in for more kissing.

  I’m in heaven, dreamland, fantasy world, the underworld, Mt......uh what is the mount where the greek gods hung out? I can't remember, but I think I’m there too.

  We make out for days.

  At least it felt like it.

  But even though we have moved on to making out from just plain amazing kisses. He is still like being very very good. His hands are in my hair, down my back a little, but that’s it. While his mouth is behaving skillfully, his hands are behaving prudishly. And all the guys told me Aiden has great hands. What the hell do they know? Maybe he’s saving them or something.

  Then all of a sudden, the ipod blasts out a loud booming rap song.

  “Shit, I think my 29 songs are over.” He runs over and turns down the music.

  “So, it’s almost curfew. I should probably walk you home.”

  We are walking hand in hand and talking.

  “You having a party again tonight?”

  “Probably. But I may not go. I might just go crash in someone else’s room.”

  “Well, they will like the lights.”

  “Yeah, I’m thinking the lights might have to stay.”

  “Tonight was amazing, really.”

  “So the intense night you had, um, does that mean you, uh, slept with him?” (Aiden, don’t be jealous! She’s with you. You’re gonna mess things up!)

  “Um, yeah.”

  “And had you done that with him a lot, like before?”

  “Oh, no. It was my first time. First couple of times anyways.”

  “So he is special?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, here we are.” We are standing outside my dorm. He kisses my cheek and says, “See ya later, Boots.” (I love that he doesn’t kiss her in the final version. He pats her on the back. Which becomes a bit of a joke between them.)

  And after all the romance, the making out. I still have absolutely no idea where I stand with this guy. Because I’m pretty sure, now he’s mad at me.

  I look at my phone.

  I have a couple texts from Riley, asking where I am, one from Tyrese, with the party info, and one from Dallas, asking if I will take him to the party tonight. If I got invited.

  Which I did.

  And although I thought I would go home, lay in my bed and dream about Aiden. Now I’m too confused by his actions. And I am afraid to text Riley. He would probably attack me, and I’m confused enough. I need a mellow boy, one who will chill will me and not make my head hurt. So I text my mellow boy back.

  Me: I did get invited to the party, but I’d rather chill. Meet me at the Cave at 1?

  Dallas: Will do. And will bring party favors ;)

  Me: Just don’t bring Riley, okay?

  Dallas: Why, I saw you two getting down on the dance floor, of course after you left he was getting down with pretty much everyone on the dance floor. Some sophomore named, Audrey, in particular.

  Me: Who did you dance with?

  Dallas: Just a group of people. No one special.

  Me: Why am I kinda pissed Riley was dancing with someone else?

  Dallas: Weren’t you off dancing with someone else? IN HIS DORM ROOM? (Good point, Dallas.)

  Me: Yeah, nothing happened though. I mean we danced, kissed, finally made out a little, but that’s it. Then, well, uggg :( it all went to shit :( Tell you when I see you :)

  You’re fun to kiss.

  2 am

  I’m laying on a blanket, in the clearing at The Cave. Dallas on one side of me, Dawson on the other.

  Yeah, Dawson. As in Gorgeous.

  What do they say about strange bedfellows?

  Riley, Katie, Tyrese. Peyton, Ace, and Jake are all at the party. Along with some other people. I guess after the dance got them pumped up, chilling at the cave was not something that sounded good to them.

  Dawson was sad. When I got here, he was sitting by himself. He looked up at me, and I swear, I might have seen tears. (Ahhh, poor Dawes.)

  And I feel bad for him because I know it too. Love sucks.

  “Tough day, huh?”

  He runs his hand back through his hair and then rubs his hands down his face. “Yeah. Shitty day. Are there a bunch of people coming here tonight?”

  “I don’t think so. Only me and Dallas that I know of.”

  “I can’t handle being friends with her,” he tells me randomly.

  “With Peyton?”

  “Yeah, I love her. Standing there watching her dance with Jake tonight. I wanted to alternately kill him, kill her, or kill myself.” (If you are one of my readers who isn’t a teen anymore, this line so sums up the intense feelings you have about life and love at that age. Everything seems so much bigger and more important than it is. I remember crying and begging and pleading for my mom to let me go to this “one party” because it was literally the most important thing ever. She relented. Let me go. Nothing important occurred.)

  “She asked me about our kiss last night.”

  “Oh. God.”

  “No, I told her you were really drunk, that I stopped it, that it was messy and horrible.”

  “You’re not exactly cheering me up here.”

  “I let her know it meant nothing. That is was nothing. She told me what happened. She also said you had a fight before it, that she pushed you, and it was partly her fault.”

  “She said that? She always says it was all my fault.”

  “I think maybe she’s realizing in a relationship, it’s never one person’s fault. Just like in Physics. The Newton dude’s law. Like for every action, there is a reaction.”

  “That’s pretty freaking deep, dude. And you haven’t even smoked yet, have you?”

  “No. I don’t know if I will. I just wanted to come out here and think. You’re not the only one with relationship problems.”

  “What you said about my brother earlier, that really true?”

  “Sorta. Not really. I don’t think we would have done anything, but I sorta made a little move, and he was teasing me telling me he was making me wait. I can’t even believe I was considering doing what I was considering doing anyways. I’ve known him for three freaking days. I’m an idiot.”

  “No, your not. This is all new and exciting. It will get old and boring pretty fast, trust me.”

  “So have you tried to get her back?”

  “Ye-ah. All the time. She won’t listen to me. Says we are just friends. I can’t be her friend.”

  “So you’ve apologized?”

  “A million times.”

  “What did you apologize for?”

  “For hooking up with another girl, what else would I apologize for?”

  “Well, she told me today that the hookup wasn’t really the problem.”

  “What the f*ck? What do you mean?”

  “She said you lied to her about it. That she can’t trust you anymore.”

  “I didn’t lie to her when she first asked me. I really didn’t remember!”

  “Maybe that’s what you should tell her. Earn back her trust. Also what Aiden said to you the other night, that his sister would never get back together with you because of how you were acting, when you were like pawing my top. You been acting like that a lot lately?”

  “We just got back to school!”

  “This summer maybe? Last spring?”

  “Hmm, yeah maybe. So what am I supposed to do? Go without girls to try and prove something to her?”

  “I think maybe that’s exactly what you need to do.”

  “Can’t I just buy her some jewelry or something. That was my dad’s suggestion.”

  “I don’t think you want to look like you’re buying her, do you?”

  “No. I can’t freakin
g win.”

  “What if you could?” (This simple question starts so much.)

  “What do you mean?”

  “I think your image needs a makeover.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Dallas crept up on us and whispered, “Hey guys,” and wrapped me in a big hug.

  “I love you already, you know that.”

  “Hey, I need hugs too.” Dawson said, and Dallas and I jumped on him, hugging him, knocking him to the ground.

  Dallas says, “So tonight was good, then went to shit, what happened with Aiden?”

  “Yeah, what happened with Aiden?” Dawson asked.

  “Well, he took me to his dorm room, opened the door and he had put lights up on the ceiling and had rose petals on the floor, and seriously, I was pissed. Here he had been telling me he wanted to dance with me, made it sounds all romantic, and I walk into this huge seduction scene.”

  “So you don’t want to do it with Aiden?” Dallas said.

  “Well not yet! Not until I know if he likes me. And we go out and all that and like fall in love or something. Like it’d be a while, for sure! After last night, I thought we were done, then he scored the points for me, and I was hopeful. So we danced, kissed his amazing kisses. But still, no making out. No hands. Nothing. Then he decides to pop the champagne, and he then he does this sweet toast. By fucking Keats.”

  “What’s wrong with Keats? Isn’t he the romantic poet dude?” Dawson wondered.

  And Dallas was like “Ohhhh, the surfer dude. He calls you Keats, right? You got mad at me and said no one else could call you that.”

  “Yeah, plus he always quotes Keats poetry to me. And he did one about nothing becoming real until you experience it and that was right before we had sex. My first time. The night before I came here! Like four days ago!”

  Dawson lowered his voice said, “Oh, dude. Bad move, huh? Like mood killer?”

  “Ya think? I like froze. Then I slammed two flutes of champagne and tried to chill. He didn’t know. And his quote was sweet, like about bliss and kisses.”

  Dallas laughed, nudged me with his elbow. “So THEN did he try to get down and dirty?” (LOL, Dallas.)