Chapter 3
8 years ago…
I am not a pervert…I am not a pervert…I am not a pervert…
…I’m totally a pervert.
I adjust my position on my floral-patterned comforter, shifting onto my knees and sitting my butt on my heels. I slide a finger between the slats of my blinds and peer into the bedroom across the way.
I didn’t come in here to spy, I swear.
I’ve been looking all over the house for my algebra notebook since I got home from study group and I haven’t been able to find it anywhere. I had walked into my bedroom to search for it for a second time. But I had quickly gotten distracted when I saw a tawny-skinned blonde enter Keeland Masters’ bedroom.
An irrational wave of possessiveness had instantly flooded my stomach. “Who is that?”
Her face is obscured by the shadows. Without hesitation, she lifts her shirt over her head and flings it into the corner.
Gasp!
She reaches behind her back and unclasps her black and white satin bra and a second later, her huge breasts bounce free.
My jaw hangs unhinged and I cover my eyes with my fingers. This can’t be happening. Not my Keeland.
I know that girls throw themselves at him. They swarm him like bees on honey whenever he hangs out at the football field after school and there are endless rumors about his many hookups. But that doesn’t mean I’m mentally and emotionally prepared to see it with my own eyes!
So, why the hell can’t I look away?
I spread my fingers, peeping into the space between them just as the blonde sits on the edge of the bed and her face comes into view.
Ugh. Brittany Delaney. No…Keeland…why? Why would you fool around with Brittany Delaney? She’s the school slut. My Keeland can do so much better.
My 17-year-old heart cracks open in my chest as Brittany lies back on the bed and he climbs on top of her. His pale, white ass comes into view.
Hmmm. Not as round and muscular as I’d always imagined it in all of my daydreams...And his legs are super hairy…How come I never noticed that his legs are so hairy?
I should look away. I’m a total sicko for continuing to watch them go at it like animals…
Come on, Sammie. Look away…
…Still can’t look away…
He rolls over on the bed and Brittany climbs into his lap. They kiss sloppily as they hump all over each other. He sits up and she runs her hands through his shaggy, brown hair.
Wait — brown hair?
When Brittany dips her head and starts sucking on his neck, that’s when I realize that it’s not Keeland. Not at all.
A shrill scream escapes my lips. I clamp my hand over my mouth and duck away from the window, just as my brother, Daniel, peers over Brittany’s shoulder, looking for the source of the disturbance. I crouch down on the floor under the windowsill, pulling my knees to my chest.
Argh! For as long as I live, I will never un-see that!
I cringe all over as I collapse onto my back, staring straight up at the Twilight poster on my ceiling. I concentrate on Robert Pattinson’s handsome face in the hopes of erasing the image of my brother’s naked ass from my mind. It’s not working, I groan inwardly.
“Samantha,” I hear mom call from downstairs. “Dinner.”
It takes me a second to pull myself together and get the desire to puke under control. I really should have looked away sooner. That’s what you get for being a pervert, I chide myself as I pad down the hallway.
When I get to the bottom of the stairs, I see Keeland in the kitchen helping my mother set the table.
Shit! I instantly wish I’d known he’d be over for dinner. I would have brushed my hair and put on a clean shirt.
He looks up just as I walk through the doorway and our eyes catch. He gives me the widest grin. “Hey Sammie.”
I grab at the hem of the loose-fitting Reyfield High Soccer t-shirt that I’m wearing and start fiddling with it. “Hey Keeland.” Why do I always squirm when he looks at me like that?
He grabs something off of the edge of the dining room table and saunters over to me. My heart kicks harder against my chest the closer he gets. He hands a notebook to me. My algebra notebook. “I think this is yours.”
I try to steady my trembling hand as I take it from him. “Where’d you find this?”
A tiny smirk curves his lips. “It was right there sitting on the couch.” He cocks an eyebrow, leaning in toward me and lowering his voice. “Turn to the last page.”
My cheeks burn hot because I know that on the last page, I’d doodled in Math class. My name and his. Together. Mr. and Mrs. Keeland and Samantha Masters.
Shit.
“I — I —”
“Come on. Open it,” he coaxes, a glint of mischief in his eyes.
My pulse throbs madly as I slowly open the book to the very last page.
And, yes. My embarrassing doodle is there. My name with his, scrawled in my best handwriting.
But now, an intricate drawing of a flaming heart encircles my scribbles. The sketch is so detailed with its vivid reds and oranges and yellows, it almost feels like it’s alive on the page. The initials ‘K.M.’ Are inscribed on the bottom right of the page.
My face must be as red as a strawberry when I glance up into his eyes. I’ve held my breath for so long that I might be suffering from permanent brain damage by the time Keeland lets go of my gaze.
He grins down at me, his pale, metallic-blue eyes glimmering. “You like?” he asks facetiously. He always does this to me. He puts me on the spot just to see me squirm. Teasing me seems to be one of his favorite pastimes. In his eyes, I’m nothing but his best friend’s nerdy kid sister.
My mouth opens and closes a few times but nothing comes out. I’m mortified. I look over to my mother hoping she’ll supply a distraction. However, she’s completely oblivious to my plight as she moves busily at the stove, singing a Faith Hill tune under her breath.
I’m still struggling to formulate a sentence when I hear the front door open and the thump-thump of Daniel kicking off his sneakers. Keeland takes a quick step back just as my brother comes charging into the house, hair disheveled, shirt misbuttoned, reeking of sweat.
Before he can say a word, mom calls out to him from the stove. “Danny, you’re home just in time for dinner. Was Brittany able to help you with your Biology homework?”
My brother’s eyes go wide for a fraction of a second, but he recovers nicely. “Yeah, Brittany’s a great study buddy. She’s really hands-on and she explains stuff in a very visual way.” He and Keeland exchange conspiratorial grins. I roll my eyes.
Those two have had a bromance of epic proportions ever since Keeland moved back to Reyfield last winter with his mom and younger brother, Maxwell. I’ve known the Masters’ my whole life but they’ve moved around a lot since Keeland’s dad ran out on the family a few years ago. Jane, Keeland’s mom, has a hard time keeping a decent job so she tends to follow opportunities as they pop up. And each time, she drags Keeland and Maxwell along with her. They always seem to end up back in Reyfield, though.
When they showed up again last Christmas, my mom, the high school guidance counselor, managed to convince my dad to let the Masters’ rent the house next door. It’s a decision my father has regretted ever since because Jane is having a hard time keeping up with the rent. She must be working the late shift at the diner tonight. I guess that’s why Keeland let Daniel use his bedroom to bone Brittany Delaney. Gross.
My mother sets the pot roast in the center of the dining room table. “Okay, Danny you go wash up and Sam, go find your father in his study. Tell him to come eat.”
After dinner, Keeland approaches my father as he sits in his recliner in the living room watching Wheel of Fortune. “Mr. Trotten?”
My father glances up with a gaze that does nothing to hide his distaste for Keeland. “Yes.”
Keeland looks nervous as he approaches. “I know my mom’s been late on the rent a few times. She’s really doing her best to pay but things have been a bit tough. I just started a job at the grocery store. I wanted you to have this.” Keeland stretches out a hand to my father. From my perch on the stairs, I can’t see exactly how much money he’s holding.
My mother rushes into the room and intercepts Keeland’s hand. “Don’t be silly, sweetheart. You don’t have to do this. I’m sure that Jane just needs a little more time and she’ll square the rent away. Your prom is coming up soon. You could probably use your money for that.”
My father gives my mother the look of death. I heard him complaining the other day about Jane always being late on the rent and that he wants to evict her. My mother had come to Jane’s defense, reminding my father that the woman is a single mother doing her best to raise her two sons with the little money that she earns.
“Come get some pie to take home for Maxwell,” my mother says ushering Keeland into the kitchen before my father has the chance to get his hands on Keeland’s money.
Keeland thanks my mother profusely and says goodnight to my father on the way to the door. When he stops in the foyer to put on his shoes, he sees me sitting on the stairs. “Good night, Sammie,” he says in a singsong voice.
I try to play it cool. “Good night, Keeland.”
He comes right up to me and taps the tip of my nose. “Sleep tight, Mrs. Keeland Masters.” My whole body shivers.
He snickers softly as he turns and disappears out the door.