Hate Me (27 page)

“You wouldn’t change anything? Nothing sounds dumb?”

“I wouldn’t change a word. Just know that she’s totally going to cry. She’s a lucky girl, Damian.”

“I think I’m the lucky one. I’m glad you like it. Do you think it’s good enough for me to share with the band?”

“Hell, yes. Is it harder for you to share the ones about her?”

“Yeah, they’re so personal that I lose my ability to be objective.”

“You shouldn’t. You sang that with so much emotion it gave me goose bumps. Hey, random thought, but make sure there are no pics of our families together lying around when she comes to your house.”

“I’m one step ahead of you. All right, I gotta get to the studio.”

“Bye, Damian.”

I lean back in Cooper’s chair, replaying Damian’s song in my head and thinking about B. I know that the day we said goodbye broke me inside.
 

But I don’t really feel broken anymore.
 

I just need to figure out a way to keep him safe.

And I think I know how.

 
Me:
 
I’ve been thinking about your safety. You should take the photos of me off your Facebook page and start putting up photos of you and her. Maybe if Vincent thinks you’ve moved on, he won’t feel the need to follow you.

B:
 
I’m sorry about everything. I think it’s good we’re seeing other people.
 

Me: You’re not jealous?

B:
 
I’m trying not to be. It’s kind of like when I told you I was going on tour. You said you were happy for me, just not happy for you. That’s kind of how I feel.

Me:
 
That’s kinda how I feel too. I saw her hug you after you surfed. I couldn’t help but wonder if Vincent hadn’t happened if that would’ve been me. Or if you’d have been with her anyway.

B:
 
Remember what I told you? That it doesn’t matter where you’ve been, Keats, only where you end up.

Me:
 
I remember.

B:
 
It’s where we END UP THAT MATTERS.

Me:
 
I want to be back on our beach.

B:
 
We will be. And we’ll figure it all out then. Damian told me what you did. How you danced at a club in front of Vincent. Part of me thinks you’re crazy. Part of me thinks you’re really brave.
 

Me:
 
Thank you. I have to get to dance. Congrats on 3
^rd
place this weekend.
 

B:
 
<3

Random.
 

10:45pm

Dance goes from after school until curfew. Peyton only lets us stop to drink water and eat the sandwiches she had brought in for dinner.

Katie and I both fall flat on our backs in bed the second we walk into our room.

“I’m exhausted. How in the world am I supposed to stay up and do homework?” she groans.

“I don’t know. I’m tired too.”

“The bad news is, I still don’t have that tricky footwork in the second part down.”

“You’ll get to work on it tomorrow morning.”

“I can’t believe we have to be back at six. It’s just wrong.”

“We don’t want to embarrass our school though.”

“That’s true. Do you care if I take a shower first?”

“Naw, go ahead. I’m going to call Aiden.”

Before I call him, I read through all the adorable, random texts he sent me tonight.

Hottie God:
 
Riley says I need to lie naked on the furry rug in your room. Would you mind?

Hottie God:
 
I miss you.

Hottie God:
 
I’m going to fail the French test. Annie is as bad at speaking as I am.
 

Hottie God:
 
I wish you could come to our away game.
 

Hottie God:
 
Can’t wait until this weekend at your loft.
 

Hottie God:
 
My mom is taking me shopping for my birthday.
 

Hottie God:
 
I miss you.

Hottie God:
 
We just took down the Eiffel Tower. All the cardboard was starting to fall off it and we were told it was a hazard. :(

“Hey, Boots,” he answers.
 

“Hey, yourself. I got all your texts.”

“Ha. Random, right?”

“They were cute. And in reply, I would say: you can get naked on my furry rug anytime you want, providing I get to watch; I can’t wait until this weekend either; I was sad to see the Eiffel Tower gone; and what are you going to shop for?”

“You forgot something.”

“What did I forget?”

“That you missed me too.”

“I missed you too, Aiden. It’s part of why I can’t wait for this weekend. Are you going to tell me what you have planned for after Winter Formal?”

“Nope. And I’m shopping for clothes.”

“I wish I could do that instead of the dance competition. I’m starting to get nervous for it.”

“Peyton says you and Maggie have the routine down.”

“We do. And our small group hip-hop routine is really good. I feel great about that. But I want the whole team to place.”

“I’m sure you will. I won’t get to see you tomorrow night either,” he says sadly.

“I know. Sucks. I’d like to meet you at Stockton’s but I’m just too tired.”

“Meet me for breakfast?”

“That sounds good. Night, Aiden.”

“Night, Boots.”

After I hang up, I decide to skip my shower and do something for Aiden instead.

Look outside.
 

3am

I wake up to the sound of my phone vibrating.

I open one eye and see that Aiden’s calling.
 

“Open your curtains and look outside,” he says, sounding way too chipper for whatever the hell time in the morning it is.

“Uh, what time is it?”

“Doesn’t matter. Open them!”

I stumble out of bed and, with one eye still shut, pull open my curtains.
 

“Oh my gosh!” I whisper, seeing both falling snow and Aiden outside.
 

I push open the window.

“Get dressed and come outside!”

I run into my closet, using my phone as a flashlight, pull on some clothes, and then launch myself out the window.
 

The ground is covered with a thick layer of snow. There are millions of white flakes falling and sparkling in the moonlight.
 

“It’s so pretty!” I say as Aiden takes my hand.
 

“Look at the trees. They’re all covered in ice.”

“Oh, Aiden. I’ve never seen trees like that. It’s like a real life winter fairyland!”

I run over to one of the trees and feel a branch. It’s slick and frozen.

“Have you never seen snow before, California girl?”

“I have. This is just different. When I’ve been to places with snow, the snow was already there. You know, like, you fly into a ski resort and there’s suddenly snow everywhere.”
 

I hold my arms out and twirl in a circle, sticking out my tongue and letting the snowflakes melt on it.
 

Aiden does the same.
 

As I watch him, I realize that my heart is like one of these snowflakes.
 

Aiden has been slowly melting it.

He leaves his tongue out and pulls me into his arms, touching the tip of his tongue to mine, so we’re catching snowflakes together.
 

When other students start wandering out of the dorms, he says, “I knew it wouldn’t last long.”

“What wouldn’t?”

“Us being alone out here.” He kisses my forehead. “I’m glad you got to experience the quiet of it.”

“It’s beautiful, Aiden. Thanks for waking me up.”

He smiles at me, then grabs a handful of snow and shoves it down my shirt.

“Ahhh!!” I scream. “What the hell?”
 
 

“It’s tradition. Eastbrooke students always have a huge snowball fight to celebrate the first big snow. It’s about to get crazy!”

“Really? How fun!”

I drop to the ground and quickly start stockpiling snowballs.
 

After about four, though, my hands get cold.

“I need to buy waterproof gloves.”

He slips my wet gloves off and brings my hands up to his face. “They’re cold.”
 

He takes my hands and puts them underneath his shirt—on his bare skin—to warm them up.
 

I stare into his eyes and watch the snow fall around him. Then I stand on my tiptoes to kiss . . .
 

SPLAT!!

A snowball hits me right in the cheek.
 

I turn toward the direction it came from to find Riley and Ariela grinning at us.
 

“They’re dead,” Aiden says.
 

He takes his snow gloves off, blows warm air into them, and then puts them on me. “Go get ’em!”

I grab my pile of snowballs, hide behind a tree, and launch them at Riley and Ariela, who have taken off running.

I’m bending down to make another snowball when Dallas shoves a bunch of snow down the back of my shirt.

I scream and go running behind Aiden for protection.
 

The snowball fight continues until the sun comes up.
 

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 6TH

Fragmented moments.

History

I’m sitting in class watching a movie.

And somehow it’s triggered . . . something.

Caused it to gnaw at the corners of my brain.

It’s a thought.

Or a memory.
 

Trying to get through.

I close my eyes for a second, shutting out my surroundings, and I'm quickly back at the Undertow.

Vincent's strong arms are around me. He’s wearing a charming smile.

I relive a series of fragmented moments.
 

The beach.
 

The ashes and his loss.

Our dinner.

The brush of a hand across my knee.

Words filled with innuendo.

Kisses that lingered on my cheeks.

Standing at the railing of a deck.
 

Good advice.
 

A twirl. A hug.

A toast from across the pool.

An offer to go to his room.
 

Cartwheels in the sand.
 

His buff chest.
 

Blowing a kiss.

Then Garrett. Asking me why I never I went with Vincent when he offered.
 

Was I honest when I answered that question?
 

I’m not even sure.

Besides, I have to look at it from his perspective.

He idolized Mom, but was always sweet.

Never once was there even a hint of animosity.

He sees the photo of me.

The original girl of his dreams.
 

Me.
 

He sets out to meet me in person, finding me on the beach.

I remember when he looked into my eyes like he knew me.
 

Because, to him, I was familiar.
 

The first photo he took was of Cush and me.
 

The question is, why?
 

Did he really already own the film rights?
 

And, if so, when did he buy them?
 

Before or after he saw the picture?
 

Riley knocks my elbow, causing my head to drop and almost hit the desk.

“Wake up, sleepyhead.”

“I wasn't sleeping. I was thinking.”

“Sure you were. Probably daydreaming about Aiden on the rug.”

I close my eyes again.

Was it all just a mistake?
 

But then I remember the van.

Him calling Mom a whore.

The drugs.

The ropes.