Keatyn Unscripted (The Keatyn Chronicles Book 8) Read online

  The boys tell me they all just met last week during football camp.

  “So what are you gonna do here?” Riley asks me.

  “I’m not sure. You guys like to party? Or you serious athletes?”

  “Oh, we like to party,” gorgey, dark Riley tells me. “And my brother is a senior, so I pretty much have the place wired.”

  “You’re a good guy to know then,” I say. “You can introduce me to your hot brother and all his friends.”

  “How do you know my brother is hot?”

  “Cuz you are,” I flirt.

  “Naw,” says Riley, “I think we’re gonna keep you to ourselves.”

  “Uh, not to burst your bubble or anything, but I kinda like older boys. Boys my age tend to me a bit immature for me.”

  Just as the the words leave my lips, it’s like I’m on a movie set, with a script in my hand about immature boys. And they’re all following along. A boy up front rips out a loud fart, and they all start laughing.

  “My point, exactly,” I say.

  “That dude may be immature,” Dallas tell me. “But we’re not. Notice he’s not sitting with us.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  Riley asks, “So how come you’re not down trying to meet all the girls? Find your new bff?”

  “Notice how all the girls are trying to get as close to the front as they can? Trying to make a good impression?”

  “Yeah,” both Riley and Dallas say.

  “Why are you in the back?” I ask them.

  Dallas laughs, “Because we don’t give a shit about good impressions. We just wanna goof around.”

  “Me too, boys, me too. Plus, most of my best friends have always been guys. Guys are way easier to get along with. No drama.”

  Riley raises his eyes at me. “We’ll get along just fine. You don’t need girls for your bff anyways.” He throws his arm around my shoulder. “I’m your new bff, and I think I’ll be your new boyfriend too.”

  “Um, I kinda have a boyfriend at home.”

  “Not for long. I promise, I’ll make you forget all about him.” He grins a very seductive grin at me.

  “He’s 17, a semi professional surfer, and seriously hot. I highly doubt that.” (You may notice that ages also changed. He was 19 in the series.)

  “Oh, you underestimate me,” he says, his eyes smoldering.

  Eyes that make me know I'm not the only not virgin sitting here. This boy is clearly not new to this game.

  And you know? He might be right.

  I may have underestimated him.

  Riley continues, “Plus, I can get us in all the good parties. My bro and I are tight.”

  He and Dallas fist bump each other.

  “Hell yeah, bro,” one of the boys from behind us says.

  The headmaster, principal, dean, whatever they call him, gets up and starts welcoming us.

  He’s telling us a bunch of boring history about the school, and I’m really not all that interested.

  I say to Riley, “You sure your brother feels that way?”

  Carson laughs, haha, and says, “SLAAAAMMMM.”

  “What do you mean?” Riley asks.

  “I mean, do you really think your older brother wants his baby bro tagging along with him?”

  “You’re cute,” he tells me.

  “Thanks, I think.”

  “And my reputation clearly does not proceed me.”

  “You have a reputation? Ha! Did you make one up? You haven't been here long enough to get a reputation.”

  “Well the boys here, have heard all about my summer at the Hamptons.”

  I hear a chorus of Hell yeahs, You’re the man, Dude, and Bro, from behind me.

  Dallas says lazily to Riley, “You are the man.” (I heart Dallas!)

  I cough, “Bullshit.”

  Riley laughs and says, “Just you wait and see. You can come play cowgirl with me anytime.”

  I quip, “Save a horse ride a cowboy, huh?”

  “Now that’s what I’m talking about,” Riley agrees.

  I laugh.

  He’s funny. And there’s something so cute about a cocky boy. Like you just wanna laugh at them.

  The dean guy is droning on about being special and chosen to go here and what an honor it is. And he may be going over rules. I’m still not listening. I’ve never been much of a rule follower. Well actually, I have never really had any rules to follow. I’ve never had a curfew. Really my only real rule is that I have wear a helmet if I ride roller blades, skateboards, longboards, or Brooklyn’s motorcycle. But that’s about it.

  Riley snaps his fingers and says, “I have a great idea. Keatyn is a boy name. Lets dress you up like a boy. You can be my roommate by day, and then be my hot little plaything at night.”

  I roll my eyes at him, like I’m so bored.

  Haha, I’m not.

  This is so much fun. But I have to give him some shit. I think he likes it. (Oh, Keatyn, he does.)

  “Seriously?” I say.

  “Forgive him,” Dallas says. “He thinks all the girls want him. He’s been going on and on about all the hot girls that came to his brother’s parties this summer that he slept with.”

  I raise my eyebrows at him. Like I don’t believe a word of it.

  “It’s all true, baby.” Riley says.

  “So basically you either had your brother’s sloppy seconds or girls who were too drunk to know better?”

  “Oh, I’m gonna like you.” Riley nods, looks me from the toes of my pointy boots, up to my tan collarbones and then says, “You’re gonna be my first real challenge.”

  “Sounds like I’m probably much too young and much too inexperienced for you.”

  He glares at me. At first he was trying to impress me with his experience, and then I just turned it around and made his experience seem like a bad thing.

  “I think you’re forgetting what I said earlier anyways. I kinda have a boyfriend.”

  Well sorta-ish.

  “I think you’re faking a boyfriend.”

  “Oh really?” I grab my phone and pull up a picture of me and Brooklyn. We’re standing facing each, swimsuits on, boards stuck in the sand next to us. His arms are casually around my waist, and he’s getting ready to lean in and kiss me. The sun is glimmering on the ocean as it’s getting ready to set, and the sky is a brilliant shade of fiery oranges, pinks, and reds. And he is looking at me in the dreamy way he always does.

  “See?” I say.

  The boys pass the phone around.

  I hear Carson say, “Dayummm, look at the bikini. Nice.”

  He and Parker are huddled over my phone.

  I try to grab it from them as they pass it to the twins.

  “Oh my gosh, you are not supposed to be looking at my body.”

  Jordan says, “What are we supposed to be looking at?”

  “At us. At how happy we are. How dreamy he is.”

  “All guys look like that when their arms are wrapped around a hot bikini,” Riley states.

  Then he opens up his phone and scrolls through about a million pics of him with hot bikini clad girls posing next to him, hugging him, kissing him on the cheek, kissing him.

  “See. I’m not in love with any of these girls. It means nothing.”

  Oh my gosh.

  He frustrates me.

  “Fine then. I mean nothing to him.”

  The dean guy is going on now about the activities for this weekend, how we should each join at least two extracurricular activities, how cheerleader and dance team tryouts are this weekend, and some other stuff that was all in the packet we received in the mail earlier this week. Which I scoured. Practically memorized.

  I don’t understand why we need to sit here and hear it all again, when surely everyone has read it because no one is listening to him at all. Well, except for a few girls down front, who are pretending to be rapt with attention.

  Or maybe they are. Who knows. Who cares.

  The phone is passed to Dallas, w
ho is staring at my bikini, I think, when it vibrates in his hand. He jumps slightly then goes, “Ooooh,” and proceeds to read my text out loud.

  “You just got a text from Brooklyn with a heart.” I try to grab the phone. “It says, Miss you already, Keats. Last night was amazing and well, both times this morning too. Winky face. Then, Love you, heart. Oh la la.”

  “See, I’m not making up a boyfriend.”

  “Soooo, what did you do last night that was so amazing?” Carson asks.

  I look at him a little puzzled.

  “What do you think?” I ask.

  “So I take it you’re not a virgin?”Riley says smoothly. “Me either, but most of these douches are.”

  “You have no idea what he’s talking about. Maybe we made pancakes twice this morning. Or maybe we caught a couple great waves, and they were amazing.”

  “Doubtful,” Riley says. “My vote is that he’s talking about hot sex with you.”

  Then the phone buzzes again.

  Dallas reads, “Oh don't forget to send me a pic of you in that sexy little school girl outfit, and maybe forget to put on your shirt. Then there is a big grinny face.”

  “I’ll take a pic of that too,” Riley says slyly.

  “Too bad he wont’ get to see you in your sexy little uniform every day, like we will,” Dallas says.

  “I hardly think they’re sexy.”

  “We’ll see, now, won’t we?”

  We are now being told that we are being dismissed and are to go get in line, pick up our schedule, get our dorm assignments and roommates. We’re supposed to go to our dorms, meet our roommate, and go to dinner in the dining hall together. Then tonight there is some kind of freshmen mixer. Where we’re going to play stupid icebreaker type games and get to know each other.

  Ought to be interesting. More like lame.

  All I know is there are a whole bunch of football playing upperclassmen with nothing to do tonight but workout. So, one would assume they are having a party. Or they should be.

  Time to meet a few of them.

  I think.

  As the boys and I are walking over to the commons area where we are supposed to go next, I see a group of older boys out in the big green lawn kicking a soccer ball around. And I figure, what the hell. This is the story of my life, the script of my life, and I am writing it.

  What would I do if I was the cool/crazy girl in a teen movie?

  I’d get noticed is what I would do.

  And it just so happens I’m pretty freaking good at soccer. My select team has won state the last two years in a row.

  Not that cowboys boots are the best for kicking a soccer ball. They are good for shit kicking is what my grandpa says, but what the hell. The ball is heading toward me as we get closer. I veer off the wide pathway, run down the little hill, intercept the ball from the gorgeous boy it was getting passed to, dribble the ball down the field, and kick the ball straight into the goal.

  Right around the extremelyyyyy, and I mean super de duper, super extremely hottie hott hot hottie.

  Like he is seriously the God of All Hotties. (Can we just take a moment to allow the importance of this scene to sink in? How many Keatyn + Aiden things arose from this scene? He calls her Boots because of it. Her new obsession with gods. The naming of the Titan. The golden laurel wreath she made him wear at the Olympics. The dream where she was wearing a gold embroidered dress. I could go on and on…..)

  I don’t say anything and neither do the boys on the field. I think I sorta shocked them, took them by surprise.

  The goalie for sure.

  I give the hottie god a big grin. A haha I just totally scored on you grin, then I jog back up the field to my friends, who have stopped and were watching me.

  Dallas high fives me.

  Riley says, “Uh, you just stole the ball from my brother.”

  “Sweet,” I say.

  Dallas says, “Dude, that was awesome! And in cowboy boots to boot. Haha,” he laughs at himself. “To boot, get it??”

  “Yeah, we get it,” I laugh.

  Dallas replies, “I said it before, and I’ll say it again. We’re gonna have some fun this year. I’m so glad you came up and hit on me.”

  “I did not hit on you.”

  “You asked if this seat was taken, and there was like this much space.” He puts his hands out and shows the others that there was like two inches.

  “Maybe I just wanted to meet some cute boys. Some nice, fun to hang out with boys. I figured the boys in the back were a good place to start. But if you would have all turned out to be losers, then I woulda had to ditch you.”

  “We still might ditch you,” Carson says.

  “No way,” Riley says.

  Dallas agrees, ruffles my hair, and says, “Yeah, now you’re like our mascot.”

  “What did your boy toy call you?” Riley asks.

  “Um, he calls me Keats, but my little sisters call me Kiki. Like key, key.”

  “Kiki is like a stripper name,” Ryan chimes in.

  “Uh....”

  “I like Keats,” Dallas tells me.

  “Uh, yeah, you can’t call me that. Only one person in the world gets to call me that.”

  He scowls. “Fine. What’s your last name?”

  “Monroe.”

  “K-mon?” Parker suggests.

  “Uh no. That’s dumb,” Dallas tells him.

  “Shut up,” Parker scowls.

  “Why do i need a nickname anyways?”

  “Cuz we all got nicknames. This week during football camp. You need one too if your gonna hang with us,” Dallas informs me.

  Riley says, “Well, Kiki it is then.”

  Omg!

  Seriously? Why did I open my mouth about Kiki? It totally sounds like a stripper name. And yeah, I want to get noticed, but I don’t want the boys to think I’m like some strip tease slut.

  I mean, certainly not yet anyways.

  You look like my next girlfriend. (Ahh! Aiden!)

  6:30pm

  I get my room assignment and meet my roommate. Her name is Morgan. She told me she plans on trying out for the debate team, plays a mean clarinet and hopes to get on the student council.

  And I think, you know what? Student council is not a bad idea. It said in our packet the freshman election campaigns start soon. And I think I just decided to run. For president maybe.

  Band? Uh no. Debate team? Uh, although I am proficient at arguing, I don’t really enjoy it, so probably not.

  I figure soccer, for sure. Tryouts are tomorrow afternoon. And definitely French club. That’s my favorite language. We’ve spent a lot of time as a family in France, Mom and Tommy have a big villa there, so it’s the language I’m most fluent in.

  Well, besides English, I mean.

  Her and I go to dinner, and she ditches me for some girl she met at orientation. I think she thinks I’m not her type, and I’m a bit offended by that. I’m an actress, well sorta, I mean, no not really, but I’m trying different things out. But I’m pretty sure, her’s is not a role I would consider trying out for.

  I’m standing in line when a older girl walks up to me.

  Well, I assume she is older. She looks older. Actually, she is freaking beautiful. Like her skin belongs on a Cover Girl ad. She says, “Hey, I’m Peyton. Sweet moves on the soccer field today. You totally scored on my brother. It was awesome,” she laughs.

  “The goalie was your brother?” I say stunned, although I can see that hotness runs in the family. I can still see the goalie’s face if I close my eyes. The shocked look on his beautiful face, the stiffness of that chiseled jaw, the surprise as the ball sailed right by his gloved hand. (As you can see, I also had a very clear picture in my mind of exactly what the hottie god looked like. His description is almost word for word to the final version.)

  “Yeah, he’s a sophomore. And I am hoping you are trying out for the soccer team tomorrow. I’m the captain this year.” (Obviously, I changed the ages a lot. She comes to Eastbrook
e as a junior not a freshman. Because my word, if she would have done all what she does as a freshman, I would have had to ground her.)

  “Really? And yeah, I was planning on it. I love playing soccer.”

  “Cool. See you tomorrow afternoon. Oh, and whats your name?”

  “Oh, sorry, it’s Keatyn.”

  “Cool name. Hey, I think you’re in my student advisor group tomorrow. I get to show you all around school.”

  “Can’t wait,” I say, but I don’t really hide my lack of excitement.

  “Don't worry. I’m not gonna show you all the boring things they want us to. We’re gonna go to all the best spots to meet boys on campus. I’m going to show you the best place to get coffee. But, shhh. Don’t tell.”

  I grin big. I like this girl already.

  “I won’t.”

  “See ya tomorrow,” she says, as she walks away with her tray and goes to sit with the gorgeous dark haired boy.

  I look around and feel a little awkward for a minute.

  Because I’m not sure where I’m going to sit. Do I go sit by some girls I don't even know, introduce myself and try to make a friend, or do I go back to my new guy friends?

  I see the guys in back, all sitting together, and Dallas waves me over.

  And where else am I gonna go? So I head over there. I’m weaving my way through the tables when, all of a sudden, the God of All Hotties, brother of Peyton, is standing in front of me, blocking my way.

  “Sweet moves,” he says, and then he looks me up and down. “I don’t think I've ever seen anyone play soccer in cowboys boots.”

  He laughs. He has a easy laugh.

  It makes me miss Brooklyn.

  A lot.

  He is so easy to make laugh. Okay, so granted, he’s high a lot, and that makes him think things are funny. But still, it’s cute.