Stalk Me

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



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



“I’d say we’re both,” gorgey dark Riley tells me. “And my brother is a senior, so I pretty much have the place wired.” His easy way reminds me of Cush.



“You’re a good guy to know, then. 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. Why the hell not?



I’m single. You’re single. Let’s mingle.



Just because I’m not going to fall in love doesn’t mean I can’t have some fun. That was one thing I was always kind of jealous of RiAnne about. She told me she loved kissing boys. She slept with some of them, but she loved kissing them. She’d go on and on for hours about the merits of this boy’s technique or lips versus another boy’s.



I should add that to my list of things I want to do.



I want to kiss a lot of boys. I don’t want to be slutty, but it’s the first time I’ve been completely single. I should enjoy it. Is kissing a lot of boys considered part of working on me? I’ll have to ask Kym that, but I’m pretty sure it qualifies. It’s like self-improvement. Practice makes perfect and all that.



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



“Uh, not to burst your bubble or anything, but I prefer older guys. I’ve never dated a guy my age.”



Just as 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 laugh.



“My point, exactly.”



“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 trying to meet some girls? I heard there’s a couple other new junior girls. You could 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?”



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



“I’m not into all that either. Plus it’s been my experience that guys are a lot 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 bffs anyway.” He throws his arm around my shoulder. “I’m your new bff, and I think I’ll be your new boyfriend.”



“Um, I kinda have a boyfriend.”



Shit. That sort of came out wrong. I don’t have a boyfriend. I tried to come up with an appropriate relationship status for me and Brooklyn on the plane. It’s more like friends with benefits. I thought about what he said about letting fate decide if we should be together, but I’m pretty sure I don’t believe in fate.



At least until some guy tells me he’s been talking to the moon.



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



“I highly doubt that.”



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



Eyes that make me know I'm not the only one who’s not a virgin. This boy is clearly not new to the game. And you know what? 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. Riley and Dallas roll their eyes at the freshman. I’m thinking he won’t be invited.



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. Plus, I already know it.



I turn to Riley. “You sure your brother feels that way?”



“What do you mean?” he asks.



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



Dallas laughs. “SLAAAAMMMM.”



“You’re cute,” Riley tells me.



“Thanks, I think.”



“And my reputation clearly does not precede me.”



“You have a reputation? Ha! Did you make one up? You haven't been here long enough to get a reputation. I mean, unless you’re gay. You been hooking up with all the boys during football camp?”



“I’m not gay, and the boys have heard all about the Johnson brothers’ summer in the Hamptons.”



I hear a chorus of Hell yeah, You’re the man, Dude, and Bro, from the freshmen behind me. It’s obvious by their enthusiasm that Riley has shared way too much about his summer and they are in awe of him. Or what he did, more likely.



Dallas says lazily to Riley, “You are the man.”



I cough. “Bullshit.”



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



“Save a horse; ride a cowboy, huh?”



“Now that’s what I’m talking about.”



I laugh.



He’s funny.



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’ve never really had any rules to follow. I’ve never had a curfew. Really, my only real rule is that I have to wear a helmet if I ride rollerblades, skateboards, longboards, or Brooklyn’s motorcycle. But that’s about it.



Riley snaps his fingers. “I have a great idea. Keatyn is a boy’s name. Let’s 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.



But I’m not.



I’m actually having fun, and I haven’t thought about the stalker in almost twenty minutes. So I give him some shit, like I used to give to Cush. I think he likes it. “Seriously?”



“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 brothers’ 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 brothers’ sloppy seconds or girls who were too drunk to know better?”



“Oh, I’m gonna like you.” Riley nods. His eyes run from the toes of my pointy boots up to my tan collarbones. “You 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, now I just turned it around and made his experience seem like a bad thing.



“I think you’re faking a boyfriend.”



“Oh really?” I grab my phone and pull up a picture of Brooklyn and me. One of only two that I was allowed to download to my new phone. We’re standing facing each other, 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. Brooklyn is looking at me in the dreamy way he always does.



Not that you can see that in the photo. I wasn’t allowed to have a picture of his actual face.



“See?”



The boys pass the phone around.



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



Then they all huddle around my phone. You’d think I just handed them a centerfold.



I try to grab my phone from them. “Oh my gosh, you’re not supposed to be looking at my body.”



Riley has my phone now. “What are we supposed to be looking at?”



“At us. Can’t you tell how happy we were?” Were being the key word in that sentence.



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



To prove his point, he puts his phone in front of me and scrolls through about a million pics of him with 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 sports tryouts are tomorrow, and some other stuff that was all online.



I don’t understand why we need to hear it all. It’s pretty obvious that everyone has either read it or doesn’t give a shit because no one is even paying attention to him. Well, except for a few girls down front, who are pretending to be rapt.



Or maybe they are. Who knows. Who cares.



My phone is passed to Dallas. He stares at my bikini, then jumps slightly when it vibrates in his hand. “Ooooh, you just got a text from B with a heart.” I try to grab the phone. “It says, Miss you already. Last night was amazing and well, this morning too. Winky face. Then, Love you, heart. Oooh la la.”



Love you??? What’s that all about? And when did he add a heart next to his name? See, it’s this kind of stuff that’s confusing. Sex can really confuse the issue. Actually, I think sex makes you kinda forget that there even are issues.



“See, I’m not making him up.”



“What did you do last night that was so amazing?” Riley arches an eyebrow at me and there’s a stupid grin on his handsome face.



I look at him a little puzzled. “What do you think?”



“I take it you’re not a virgin?” Riley says smoothly. “Me either, but most of these douches are.” He points back at the freshman boys.



“You have no idea what he’s talking about. Maybe we made pancakes this morning. Or maybe we caught a great wave, and it was amazing.”



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



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



Ought to be interesting.



Probably more like lame.



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



I’d like to meet a few of them because I could seriously stand to party.



And because I’m single.



The boys and I walk toward the commons area, where we’re supposed to go next. As we’re walking, I spy a group of boys out in the big green lawn kicking a soccer ball around.



A crazy idea pops into my head.



Something I would do if I were the cool/crazy girl in a teen movie.



THE SETTING: BOARDING SCHOOL



A group of boys are playing soccer in a big green lawn in front of the path to the commons area. commons area. They are split up into shirts versus skins because half the boys. . .



What am I doing?



Screw it.



The scenes I write never seem to happen. I’m done planning it all out. Planning for every contingency. That’s the old me. That’s the me that Vanessa liked. The girl that always behaved exactly how she was supposed to.



I’m going to live in the moment, because if this doesn’t work and the stalker finds me, I might not have that many moments left.



This is the script of my life, and I’m in charge of living it. I don’t care what crazy teen girl would do.



This is about what I want to do. I’m wadding up the script and throwing it in the trash.



Right now I want to run down there, steal the ball, and kick it in the goal.



And I’m gonna do it. I don’t care what anyone thinks.



I’m confident. I’m good at soccer, and it’ll be fun.



I look down at the boots Cush gave me. They make me feel confident. Not that cowboy boots are the best for kicking a soccer ball. They’re good for shit kicking, Grandpa says, but what the hell.



The ball is heading toward me as we walk closer.



Here goes nothing.



I take off suddenly, run down the little hill, intercept the ball from the gorgeous, shirtless boy it was getting passed to, dribble the ball down the field, and kick the ball straight into the goal.



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



Like he is seriously the God of All Hotties.



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



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 new friends, who stopped to watch me.



Then I think, why in the world did I just do that? I didn’t look like some cool girl! I probably looked like some freaking lunatic.



Shit. I’m such a liar. I do care what people think.



I’m gonna go hide in my room, cut my hair and dye it, and pretend to be someone new tomorrow. I wonder if the Garrett will let me change my name again?