Hate Me

When I get back, he’s got his pants unzipped and the Titan unleashed.



I have to say that I never really thought boy parts were particularly attractive.



Until now.



But, then again, everything on Aiden’s body is perfection.



In my eyes, at least.



He pulls me back onto his lap and resumes his hard kisses, his hands simultaneously finding their way under my skirt and pushing my panties aside, so that . . .



I can barely even describe it, I’m so overwhelmed.



But my parts are touching his parts.



All I would have to do is push up a little, then slide back down on top of it and we’d be doing it.



When Mom had surgery a couple years ago for tennis elbow, they told her not to make any big decisions when she was on pain medication. Not to sign anything. That her judgment could be impaired.



Would it be bad of me to take advantage of Aiden while his judgment is impaired?



As he’s sliding me back and forth on top of him, I don’t care about his judgment. I just want to do it.



But then I look deep into his eyes.



I feel the heat.



The hunger.



But not the connection.



His eyes don’t have the focus they usually do.



And I can’t do that to him.



I want him to remember every single detail of our first time.



Which means I have to get the heck off him or it’s going to happen by accident.



Like accidentally on purpose.



I roll so that I’m lying on the bed next to him, take the Titan in my mouth, and do what he enjoyed at the loft.



Aiden’s so damn cute afterward.



You’d think I just gave him a million dollars, let him watch porn, and made him a sandwich. The grin on his face is so contagious that I can’t help but smile too.



“We almost did,” he says. “You stopped it. I didn’t think you’d stop it.”



“If you weren’t all drugged up on pain medication, I wouldn’t have.”



“I made the trainer stop at the store so I could buy us a movie to watch tonight,” he says, the drugs obviously causing him to flit to a random topic.



“You did?” I say, humoring him. “What did you get?”



“Clash of the Titans,” he says, suppressing a laugh. “I also got the sequel, Wrath of the Titans.”



“Oh,” I say, realizing he’s still sharp as a freaking tack.



When I’m with Aiden, I never know whether to curse the gods for making him or praise them for doing so.



But for this, I’m going with damn the gods.



I’m just saying.



“Are you going to tell me about the name? And, more importantly, has it lived up to its name so far?” I can tell he is both teasing and serious.



I might as well tell him now. Maybe he won’t remember it.



“Do you know the story of the Titans?”



“Sure. They were the first gods before Zeus and all of those guys took over.”



“Right. So you know that I called you the God of all Hotties when I first met you.”



“I’m still in your phone as Hottie God.”



“Yes, you are. I thought you were so beautiful that you must be part god. You also seemed to always have this power over me.”



“What kind of power?”



“Like, I couldn’t think straight. Sometimes I thought you could read my mind. I’m pretty sure you’re infused with love potion. And when you kissed me . . .”



“When you kissed me, I was done for. Ever since that first kiss on the Ferris wheel. Totally and completely your love slave.”



“You didn’t act like it.”



“I was trying too hard, I think. But you were like uncharted territory. I had to make my own map. I was serious when I said that I did stuff for you that I’ve never done for anyone else, but I also know that, had I done it for any other girl, she would’ve been ripping her panties off for me. Instead, everything I did just seemed to piss you off.”



“Because I heard you were a player. I was still getting over B and, the way you made me feel, I was afraid of setting myself up for heartbreak.”



“And what do you think now?”



“That I’m setting us both up for heartbreak.”



He places his hands possessively on my cheeks, exactly the same way he did in St. Croix. Like he desperately needs me.



He gives me a single long kiss.



The kind of kiss that always affects me the same way.



Deep within my soul.



Telling me that we can make it through anything.



That we can survive the kiln.



Which, if I do what I’m thinking about doing, is going to get very hot very soon.



“So, tell me the rest of the Titan story,” he says, changing the subject again.



“Remember that day, when you got mad at me about wearing Dawson’s jersey?”



“Because I said you were dumb?”



“Exactly. And then you went all Alpha Aiden, threw me across your desk and attacked me.”



“Alpha Aiden?”



“Yes, you finally took control. Showed me how you felt. It was hot. Like the kitchen counter. The pool table. Anyway, my legs were spread apart and I could feel you were excited. And the way you were kissing me, I thought maybe we’d do it, you know. Then and there. And I wanted to. I don’t know, my brain just thought Unleash the Titan in the heat of the moment.”



“I wanted you too. But I didn’t want to be . . .”



“I know,” I say, rubbing his hand. “I’m glad now that we didn’t. And I was so freaking happy that you finally kissed me with your tongue that I didn’t care. But, see, if we watch the movie tonight, you’ll know that I got it wrong. The Titans wanted to unleash the Kraken, so that the people would hate the gods, which would, in turn, make them less powerful. So, technically, that should’ve been its name.”



“But in the heat of the moment you couldn’t think straight?”



“Exactly.”



“I like Titan better than Kraken.”



“I do too.”



“Have you ever named a guy’s,” he gestures toward his crotch, “before?”



“No.”



“Even better,” he says with a grin.



Writing the script.



6:25pm



I order Aiden some Chinese food, give him a pain pill, and stare at his beautiful face as he sleeps.



And I know.



Know what I have to do.



Know that I can’t lie to him any more.



That I can’t wait until March to tell him the truth.



That I’m going to tell him after the dance.



In our hotel room.



And that I’m going to do it before we go any further.



I know there’s a definite chance that he’ll hate me.



That he’ll walk away.



That he won’t understand.



But I can’t do it with him until he knows all of me.



I want him to know all of me.



So I spend the rest of the evening writing and rewriting the script.



THE SETTING: HOTEL SUITE AFTER WINTER FORMAL.



AIDEN



(Opening a bottle of champagne)



KEATYN



(Lighting all the votive candles Aiden brought)



(They kiss)



I need to tell you something.



AIDEN



(Sits on the edge of the bed)



What?



KEATYN



(Stands in front of him)



I’ve been lying to you. Actually, I’ve been lying to everyone about something. And I need you to know.



AIDEN



(Looks concerned)



Okay.



KEATYN



I came to Eastbrooke because I was being stalked. My last name isn’t Monroe. Well, technically, it is because it was legally changed, I think. I’m not really sure about that. I used to be Keatyn Douglas. And my mom doesn’t work in oil and gas. But she is in France. And her name is Abby Johnston.



AIDEN



(Stands up in shock)



When I get back to my dorm, I find another present wrapped with a pink ribbon.



I open it and find a teeny pair of boy short undies with two words written across the butt.



I smile at them, now certain Riley is my naughty Santa, and pack them in my bag to wear tomorrow night.



Then I work on a special gift for Vincent.



THURSDAY, DECEMBER 15TH



For being you.



7:25am



Aiden stops by my dorm before he goes to breakfast.



He sees me dressed in normal clothes as opposed to my uniform and says, “I forgot you’re going back to California today. Are you sure it’s safe?”



“Yeah, I’m sure.”



“Do you want me to come with you?” he asks sweetly.



I smile at him, remembering the last time I saw my dad. I wonder if he would’ve done anything differently if he had known it would be the last time he’d ever see me.



“No, Aiden. But I want to thank you.”



“For what?”



What do I say? What are the last words I want him to remember?



“For being you, Aiden. For being everything.” I turn away, pretending to look for a bracelet because I’m not able to look into his beautiful green eyes.



He turns my chin toward him. “You’re coming back, right?”



“I sure hope so,” I say with a grin, trying to making light of it.



“I hope so too,” he says, kissing my forehead.



I hug him tightly, kiss him passionately, and then watch as he limps up the hill toward class.



I go back into the privacy of my room and make a few more phone calls.



It’s perfectly perfect.



10:30am



Cooper texts me as I’m en route to the airport.



Cooper: I don’t like this. I should be going with you.



Me: I’m meeting Sam. Just have to sign papers dealing with this takeover. He has power of attorney, but it’s limited and doesn’t cover this.



Okay, so I’m lying to him, but only about why I’m meeting Sam.



But why I’m meeting him is too personal to share with Cooper.



He’d say I’m admitting defeat.



But I want to be prepared.



Just in case.



Cooper: Still . . .



Me: Your flight lands in L.A. before mine does. I’m wearing the wig and the flight is booked under your name. I’ll see you when I get there.



Cooper: You swear to me you’re going to see Sam?



Me: I swear. Plus, I don’t think it would be smart to both miss school on the same day.



Cooper: True. All right. See you tonight.



On the plane, I look at a magazine that Peyton gave me last night at dinner. On page eight is a spread about Damian, including two pictures of him and Peyton. In one they are coming out of a trendy restaurant and in the other coming out of a club. Obviously, he didn’t keep her busy in the bedroom the whole time.



Shit.



But then I look at the caption and realize that you can’t clearly see her face in either photo.



Damian Moran, lead singer of the hottest new band on the planet, Twisted Dreams, was seen this past weekend with another blonde on his arm. And this blonde apparently held his attention for the entire weekend. Who is this gorgeous mystery girl? Can she tie down the playboy? And, come on, Damian, how about some equal opportunity for us brunettes?



I’m really thankful they’re spending the holiday in St. Croix, where there are no photographers.



And I pray Damian will keep their relationship a secret until March.



I roll the magazine up and carefully put it in my backpack next to the brunette wig.



I’m not wearing the wig for this part of the journey.



I’m just me.



I have to be.



I close my eyes and listen to music during the long flight, arrive on schedule, and hop in Sam’s rental car.



We drive for about thirty minutes through what I think is one of the most beautiful parts of the country.



Hilly. Lush. Green. Blue sky.



Sam turns onto a dirt road, winds up a hill, and says, “This is the spot.”



I nod, understanding and taking it in.



He stops the car on a large flat area. “Is this what you were envisioning?”



I get out of the car and walk toward the view of the ocean.



And smile.



“You did good, Sam. It’s perfectly perfect.”



“I got lucky,” Sam chuckles.



“No,” I say. “It was fate.”



I spin around, taking in the beautiful view in every direction.



“You’ve done everything exactly the way I requested, right?”



“I followed your instructions to the letter.”



“And you’ll do whatever it takes from a price and timing standpoint? We don’t have much time.”



“The current owners are aware of your timeline and if the offer is what they expect, we’ll have the deal closed on Monday.” He looks at me closely. “Are you sure this is what you want? To be cremated? To have your ashes spread here?”



“Yes. I’m positive.”



He shakes his head, but all he says is, “Then I just need your signature.” He holds out a clipboard, hands me a pen, and points to the places I should sign.



“Thank you so much, Sam. I love it.” I pull an envelope out of my purse and say, “And here’s this.”



He takes it from me and places it safely in his briefcase.



I look back at the ocean, smile again, and feel an overwhelming sense of peace.



I close my eyes.



Say a prayer.



Then get driven back to the airport.



Cooper: The police questioned Vincent today. He admitted to giving her a business card. When they asked if he knew she was dead, he acted surprised. He asked if they thought he had anything to do with it. They said they were just trying to piece together a timeline of her last hours alive. He said that he only saw her in the club and had hoped to hear from her this week. He even offered to take a lie detector test because, he said, for business reasons, he didn’t want his name to be associated with a murder investigation. He had an alibi and passed the lie detector test.