Adore Me

Wednesday, November 23rd

Ruined my lips.

12:30pm

I re-read the moon in my hand.

While others may wish on a shooting star, it's the moon that holds my dreams afar.

I clutch it to my chest and take a deep breath while trying to figure out why Aiden would’ve written that.

I grab my phone, look up the quote on the internet, and get no hits.

Did he make it up?

My mind wanders to my own wish in the moonlight.

I shake my head. It can’t be.

And if Aiden really did make a wish on the moon then it’s official.

Fate is a cold-hearted bitch just like Aphrodite.

If Aiden truly was my fate, then fate would’ve allowed us to meet later in life.

Under different circumstances.

When I had gotten my life back, or when I had finally accepted that I’d never get it back.

A morbid thought flits through my brain. That I might not be here later in life.

A big part of me wants to turn the car around and go back to Eastbrooke.

I look at my phone and consider calling him. Consider reading all of his texts. Listening to all of his voicemails.

Asking him why he wrote on the moon.

But I can’t.

I have to deal with Vincent first. I have to get my life back. And after that, I promised to give B a chance.

I need to forget about Aiden. Put Eastbrooke and the friends I made there behind me.

My leaving is for the best. For everyone’s best.

I’m just not sure what’s best for me.

I've been mulling over a lot of options. I’ve considered moving to my loft, getting my GED, and starting NYU in the fall. But that would mean hanging out with Jake and Dawson. It would mean coming in contact with new people. People who I couldn’t make friends with.

I quickly ruled out that option.

Besides, I’m not going back to my loft.

I can’t.

I’m pretty sure Aiden ruined it, just like he ruined my lips. I’ll put it on the market and forget about it too.

I run my hand over my new four-leaf clover necklace and say a little prayer.

My phone rings, so I stop praying and answer with a polite hello.

“Miss Monroe, this is Edward at Jet Co-op. Before you board, don’t forget to stop in the office and sign the new paperwork.”

“I won’t,” I say. But, obviously, I had forgotten.

I hang up and ask the driver to run me back to the office.

I get out of the car and pull my sunglasses over my eyes, partially to block the light and partially because I'm a little freaked out to even go inside. I’m worried Vincent sent my photo to every airport in America.

I put myself into my role. I’m not Keatyn Douglas who’s being stalked. I'm Keatyn Monroe who’s just an Eastbrooke student.

Was an Eastbrooke student, I think, suddenly fighting back tears.

I’m looking at the office building, but in my mind I’m seeing the beauty that is Eastbrooke. The gorgeous trees. The old brick buildings. The commons. The people. I’m really going to miss everyone. I hate that I didn’t give them proper goodbyes. I hate that I did that to them. And most of all, I hate that I’m reliving this moment again.

I was stupid to go to Eastbrooke. Anyone in their right mind should’ve seen the potential problems.

But we weren’t really in our right minds when we made the decision. We were scared.

And I’m done being that way.

It’s time to take control of my life.

It’s time to fight back.

I take a deep breath and breeze into the office like I don’t have a care in the world.

“I’m Keatyn Monroe.” I shake Edward's hand and then review the contract for the many additional hours that I purchased on a whim a couple of days ago. That was when one of my options included me turning the tables on Vincent and stalking him.

I decided that might not be my smartest idea ever.

Besides, a new plan is starting to take root. Cooper and me on a farm in Iowa, way out in the country. Lots of acres where we can set up a firing range. A barn we can turn into a training facility. Maybe a few chickens, a cow, and a vegetable garden so that we would never have to leave. We could grow everything we eat.

Okay, maybe not. I don’t think I could kill a chicken.

Or a carrot.

I think I’d prefer to buy my food already dead.

I’ve thought about marrying Cooper. Going Amish.

Living out my life in hiding.

I’m also strongly considering faking my own death.

I’d hate to do that to my family but if I did, I could kill Vincent. My family wouldn’t have me, but they’d have their lives back. I could watch the girls grow up from afar.

Then, maybe I could become the CIA’s youngest operative. Cooper and I could travel the world and spy.

I bet he’d look damn hot in a tuxedo.

Oooh, I know. I’m going to watch Triple X on the plane.

Oh, the things I’m gonna to do for my country.

While Edward goes in the back to make a copy for my records, I hear two ladies at the next counter gossiping about who’s going to star in the next best-selling book turned movie.

One of them holds out a magazine. “Here, you can read this on your lunch break. Did you see the cover? I can't believe how scary skinny Abby Johnston has gotten. People think it's the stress of Tommy's affair.”

“I wouldn’t care what Tommy did as long as I could get a piece of that fine man. I’m not greedy. I’d be more than willing to share,” she says with a chuckle.

“You’re bad.”

“But honest,” she says as she wanders off with her lunch bag. “Besides, I read that this morning.”

I wander over and help myself to a bottle of water from the self-service bar, glancing at the photo on the magazine.

I think back to Vancouver. I noticed Mom looked thin, but she looks even skinnier now.

I get my paperwork back from Edward, step outside, and call Tommy.

I’ll use this situation to set the first part of my plan in motion.

“I saw that magazine cover of Mom. She looks even thinner than she did at Gracie’s birthday party. I’m worried about her, Tommy.”

“I’m worried about her too,” Tommy replies. “This thing. The guilt. The fear. The lying. It's eating her alive.”

“You're almost done filming in Vancouver, right?”

“Yeah, we wrap up this week and then I’m scheduled to start Trinity 3: Retribution in New York with Matt.”

“And she’s supposed to start her publicity tour for To Maddie, with Love, right?”

“Yeah. That’s why she hasn’t been eating or sleeping. She’s so afraid that all the press and promotion will really send Vincent over the edge.”

“Cancel the tour. Break her contract. Pay them whatever you have to, Tommy. Get her out of it.”

“I’ve considered that.”

“You have to do more than consider it. You have to convince her. And I know you two don’t like to be apart, but you shouldn’t bring her and the girls to New York. Send them to France with James and don’t tell anyone. Lie. Say she’s sick. Say she’s in rehab. Hire a battalion to guard the grounds if you have to, but I know she’ll feel safe there.”

“She’s supposed to start another movie soon.”

“Get her out of that too. I’m going to start putting pressure on Vincent, and I need her and the girls somewhere safe.”

“What kind of pressure?”

“Financial pressure. I mean, I won’t be doing it personally, but, um, someone with like financial expertise will be. And that, combined with the timing of Mom’s release—well, we just don’t know how he’ll react. That’s why I really need them somewhere safe. Tommy, do you remember last spring when you asked me about a role in Retribution?”

“Of course. I was a little crushed when you told me you weren’t interested.”

“I was afraid I’d embarrass you. Will you tell me about the role?”

“An old enemy has you kidnapped and I go badass to save you. I want my last Trinity movie to be my best, and I just thought if you played my daughter, it would bring my feelings out more.”

“I love you, Tommy. I don’t tell you that enough, but I couldn’t ask for a better dad.”

“You mean stepdad?”

“No, I mean dad. And I know my real dad would be okay with me saying that.”

“That means a lot to me. I’m sorry how things went down at the house. The girls were so happy to see you.”

“I shouldn’t have surprised you like that. And, don’t worry; I won’t be seeing them again. Not until this is over. So, would I need to audition for the role?”

“Hypothetically speaking?”

“Yes.”

“You’d have to audition, but only as a formality. I had it all planned out so that you could shoot it over your Christmas break.”

I don’t bother telling him I’m not going back to school. Or that the timing is perfect, because I’ll be needing the spotlight about then.

“I want to do it.”

“I wish you could.”

“I’m working with Cooper on all of this. He says I can do it, and that he’ll make sure I stay safe,” I lie. Then I add sincerely, “It’d mean a lot to me, Tommy.”

“That would be amazing.”

“So you get Mom to France, and I’ll do the movie. Deal?”

“Baby, you’ve got a deal.”

Wash away the hurt.

1pm

As I get back into the car, I get a text.

Grandma: You’ve been asking a lot of questions about love and fate. Here’s what I believe. Fate brings people into your life, but it’s up to you to decide who gets to stay.

I shove my phone into my bag, wishing it were that easy, and head toward the plane feeling sad.

I’ll be fine once I get to the island. I’ll build sand castles, watch the water wash them away, and know I made the right decision about both Aiden and Eastbrooke.

I’m hoping the water will wash away some of the hurt, too. So that all I’m left with is anger. Anger that I’ll direct towards Vincent until I destroy his life.

I take a step onto the plane, expecting to be greeted by my flight attendant.

Instead, I see Aiden and Peyton.

WTF!?

Doesn’t that boy ever freaking listen to me?

I stand in the doorway, arms crossed in front of me, shaking my head.

Because, no.

No. No. No. No. No. No. No.

As if it isn’t bad enough that Aiden is on my plane, he’s fist-bumping the pilots like he owns the place.

I study him closely. His bruises are almost gone. His hair is perfectly messy. His shoulders are back and confident.

He looks more like his old self.

Damn him.

But I guess it’s better than how he looked in the chapel and at the pep rally.

I close my eyes tightly, trying to forget, but knowing that in a few moments I’m going to make him look that way again.

Peyton sees me first, gives me an awkward smile, and brushes Aiden’s arm to get his attention.

He freezes while the pilots and attendant introduce themselves and then get to work.

Then he uses those damn tractor beams to hold my gaze as he walks across the plane. I couldn’t look away if I wanted to.

He grabs the crook of my elbow, causing me to jump, as he leads me to the back of the plane.

I’m pretty sure his touch was like a defibrillator, sending 360 joules of electricity straight to my heart.

Making it beat for him again.

Damn my traitorous heart.

Be strong, Keatyn. It doesn’t matter what your heart feels.

You have to use your head.

He thinks this is the big gesture.

And it is.

It so is.

I so want to jump into his arms.

Tell him I’m sorry.

Kiss every inch of his face.

But I can’t.

I squirm out of his hold but still end up trapped against the back wall. His tall, muscular chest is totally invading my personal space just like it did the first time I met him.

“You know you can’t come with me.”

He doesn’t respond.

Well, he does respond, but his response is to grab both my arms and pull me into a kiss.

A hard, possessive kiss.

A cotton-candy-has-filled-my-brain kiss.

I do everything in my power to remain stiff.

But I can’t.

Probably because of his godly love potion trickery.

And why the hell does he have to smell so good?

He pulls away, so I shake my head and start to speak.

But he stops me again with his lips.

After giving me another long kiss, he backs away slightly and cocks an eyebrow at me.

“You know you can’t—” I try to say.

Kiss.

“Stop th—”

Another kiss.

“I’m going to keep kissing you until you stop talking,” he tells me.

“But I—”

Kiss.

Ohmigawd, he is so frustrating.

“Aiden, but we already—”

His lips land hard on mine. Again.

And with every kiss, my resolve is weakening.

He stops kissing me and looks into my eyes.

I bite my lower lip to keep from saying anything else, while shaking my head, closing my eyes, and wishing I could close my ears.

Because I don’t want to hear what he has to say.

It was hard enough to hear it once. To end it once.

His face is way too close to mine. I can feel the stubble on his cheek. His breath on my neck.

His finger touching my lip.

“Does this mean you’re ready to listen?”

I shake my head no.

Because I can’t listen. I can’t hear it. It’s why I couldn’t listen to his messages or read his texts. I’m not strong enough.

He kisses my neck, causing my eyes to open in surprise. Then he bores those green eyes straight into my soul.

And his soul tells me the same thing it always does. That we should be together forever.

He breaks eye contact, holds his hands up, and says, “Boots, I give up.”

“Then why are you here?”

He kisses me again.

This time with his tongue. That love-potion-infused tongue that always renders me incapable of speech.

He should’ve just used it the first time.

“You were right. It wasn’t all about you. I jumped into relationships last year. I did things with girls I didn’t have feelings for. I wanted to do things differently with you. And I know you loved the Keats guy. It was unfair of me to judge your relationship when I know nothing about it.”

“But I can’t—”

He kisses me again then says sternly, “I’m not finished yet.” Then his voice softens. “Boots, I don’t care about my past, or yours.”

I study his face carefully, wishing it could be true. “Do you mean that?”

He gives me a teeny smirk. “Why, were you bad in the past?”

“Um, no,” I say, carefully choosing my words. “I was just kind of a different person.”

He cups my face in his hand, gazes into my eyes, and says sincerely, “I only care about your future. Our future.”

“But sometimes people's pasts come back and ruin their futures.”

“Not ours.” He holds his palm up and says, “Don’t move.” Then he picks up a heavy shopping bag from one of the seats. “I got you something.”

I watch as he reveals a large Mason jar.

I squint my eyes at it. “What's in there?”

“Dirt.”

“You got me dirt?” I ask incredulously.

He grins, his green eyes sparkling. “Yes. To build our mansion of love on.”

I try to pretend his reference to our love mansion doesn’t affect me, even though it makes me completely melt inside. I manage to give him a chuckle and say, “It’s gonna be a small mansion.”

He laughs too, then looks at me seriously. “It’s symbolic dirt. It also means a fresh start.” He sets the dirt down on the floor between us, then puts his hand on the wall above my shoulder, boxing me in like he’s done before. “I don’t care if everything we’ve told each other up until this point is a lie. We start over. Here. Today. This second. Both of us. On fresh dirt.”

I can’t speak. I can only look down at the jar of dirt—the non-sand dirt—and wonder how in the world he could possibly know the one thing that I so desperately need.

I’m lost in thought when he takes my hands in his, brings them to his lips, and asks gently, “Boots?”

Tears flood my eyes as my heart overrides my brain. I stare at the jar of dirt and say longingly, “I really want dirt.”

“You want dirt?” Peyton asks loudly from behind us. “Are you serious? I told him that was the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Aiden turns and glares at her.

She responds by miming zipping her lips and throwing away the key.

He turns back toward me and puts his forehead against mine. “We both need dirt. Please let me come with you.”

Damn the gods, damn fate, damn everybody.

But I find myself nodding.

Nodding and crying.

I may not be able to give him my love, but I can give him the one thing I couldn’t give anyone else.

Closure.

I'll let him come with me. I'll tell him on the island that I can't go back to Eastbrooke. That my mom is making me go to Vancouver or something. That maybe we can stay in touch. And if I survive my face-off with Vincent, maybe, someday, I could see him again and tell him the truth.

And I know it’s selfish, but maybe there will even be a few more take-my-breath-away moments before I put him on the plane and send him back to school without me.

I’ll tuck those moments away with the other ones I’ve had in my life and carry them with me while I fight Vincent.

The moments of a life that used to be.

His own eyes are teary as he uses his thumbs to brush away my tears. “Is that a yes?”

“Aiden?”

“What, baby?”

“I don’t want to start over. Not completely. We’ve had too many amazing moments to forget.”

The smile that spreads across his face could light up the heavens. It’s full of emotion.

He hugs me tighter and gives me a kiss.

A true love, fairy tale kind of kiss.

But I don’t want to hurt him again.

“There’s a lot going on in my life that you don’t know about. I was actually looking forward to being alone. Trying to sort things out.”

“There’s a lot we need to talk about, but I’ll give you whatever space you need.”

“Fine. I’ll let you and Peyton come with me.”

“Good,” he says, still running his hands slowly down the sides of my arms.

“Okay. So, uh, I should probably tell the attendant we’re ready to go.”

“Okay,” he says, but he doesn’t let me go.

He kisses me again.

After a long kiss, I let the flight attendant know that we’re ready.

We get buckled into our seats and prepare for takeoff.

Peyton scrunches up her nose. “So, you liked the dirt?”

I let out a little chuckle. “No one but me would’ve liked the dirt.”

She nods as she puts earbuds in, hits some music on her phone, and then leans back and closes her eyes. The flight attendant gives her a blanket right before we take off and she snuggles under it.

I grab my phone out of my bag and hold it up in front of Aiden’s face. All of a sudden, I feel strong enough to know what he said.

He takes it out of my hand, turns it off, and puts it in his pocket. “You have to turn your phone off now.”

After we get to cruising altitude, I ask for it back.

He shakes his head at me. “No, I’m deleting them.”

“But I wanna know what you said.”

“I’d rather tell you. On the island, in front of the ocean; preferably after a couple tropical drinks.”

“That bad?”

“Well, they started out with me trying to explain. Trying to understand. But then, toward the end, I’d say I was probably sounding pretty pathetic and desperate.” He shakes his head and smiles at me. “I don’t want to ruin my reputation.”

I watch as he scrolls through my phone, frowning, shaking his head, and occasionally rolling his eyes at what he wrote. “Pathetic,” he says, pressing buttons and deleting messages. When he’s finished, he hands me back my phone. “Only left one,” he says, putting his lips on my neck and grazing it with every syllable. “The most important one.”

I look down at my phone and read.

Hottie God: I’m not giving up on us. I can’t give up on us.

I’m really glad he can’t see the emotion that’s written across my face as I read. I close my eyes tightly and try to forget that in a few short days he’s going to have to do just that.

“Do you care if I lie down and rest for a bit?” he asks.

“Uh, no. Go ahead,” I tell him, but I’m not prepared for what he does. He stretches his long body out on the couch and puts his head in my lap.

I can’t stop my fingers from running through his hair, moving gently across one slightly puffy eye, touching his adorable freckle, and skimming across his nose. I'm convinced now more than ever that he's a god with special healing powers, because his broken nose is still completely straight and beautiful.

He closes his eyes and quickly starts breathing heavily.

I remember when he was asleep in Bryce’s room the night I saw his note, Why should I bother? And his answer, Because she felt it too. Back then I didn’t think he was talking about me. Now, I think he was.

Oh, I never should’ve let him stay on this plane.

Telling him goodbye is going to be one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. Right up there with leaving my family and B.

But I’ll just have to put on my big girl panties and do it. I want us to have an ending. I want him to be able to move on. To not have things up in the air the way they are with B.

I kiss his forehead, close my eyes, and try not to cry.

A few hours later, Peyton wakes up, stretches her arms above her head, unbuckles herself, and then comes to sit down next to me.

“We’re a fun crowd, huh? I’m sorry I fell asleep.” She looks down at Aiden sleeping in my lap. “He hasn't been sleeping much. Neither of us have.”

“Why haven't you been sleeping?”

“What you did with Whitney. Sitting with her when no one else would. That's the kind of girl I used to be. I never wanted anyone to feel left out. I got so wrapped up in myself, it's embarrassing.”

“Don’t be embarrassed. When I told you it would backfire on you, I was speaking from experience.”

“What happened?”

“Same deal. I started to worry more about my status than about people. I didn't like the way my best friend was behaving, so I decided to break away and make my own group. But I didn't go about it the right way. I didn’t choose those friends very wisely. My big coup was throwing a skip-school party and not inviting her. She ended up sitting at lunch alone while we were sharing party pics. It didn’t even really affect her, but I screwed up a friendship that was important to me, caused one of my friends to get drugged, and became a bigger bitch than she was. And even after that, she still helped me.”

“We talked,” she says, referring to Whitney.

“How'd it go?”

“Okay. I apologized for being an ass all year. I know she's always held that stuff over my head, but it’s been a long time since she's threatened to use it. Probably just my own insecurities. I was shocked she did that to Chelsea. She’s never done something like that for anyone. It’s always been for herself.”

“I think it was her warped way of apologizing for all the mean stuff she did to me. And if it’s any consolation, she's just as screwed up as we are.”

“You never seem to screw up.” She looks at my hand still absentmindedly running through Aiden's hair. “Except maybe with him. He likes you.”

“I like him too.”

“If only it were still that easy,” she laughs. “Like in middle school. All you have to say is she will like you if you like her back.”

“That's funny.”

She sighs. “What do you think of Camden?”

“I think deep down he's a good guy.”

“I sometimes wonder what it’d be like to marry him. But I can't really picture it.”

“Then it’s probably not right,” I say, my mind immediately conjuring up a wedding to Aiden. A hillside overlooking the ocean at sunset. Close friends and family. Ribbons in the trees and big hurricane lanterns lighting the aisle. Dinner at a winery. Brick patio. Candles on every surface and twinkle lights strung above our heads. Me in a dress with golden embroidery. Gorgeous shoes. Then a party. Dance floor set in the trees. Lots of wine. Lots of dancing. Aiden in a black suit looking a little dangerous and totally delectable.

Peyton touches my arm, causing my daydream to evaporate. “I just want you to know that when we go back to school, things’ll be different. I'll be different.”

I gave her an understanding nod.

Peyton and I have different backgrounds but we’re alike in so many ways. I know with a little more time she could’ve been a lifelong friend.

Lifelong.

I know that once I start this showdown with Vincent my life might not be very long.

But, I guess, at least it will be mine.

“So, what are we gonna do on the island?” Peyton asks.

“Relax. It has everything you could possibly want. Aside from the ocean, sandy beach, and infinity pool, there is a two-lane bowling alley, gym, movie theater, and even a small nightclub.”

“You and Aiden could dance. He said you guys had fun at the club in New York City.”

“We did have fun. I loved the Empire State Building. Did he tell you we watched a couple get engaged?”

“He did. You know, he’s gotten romantic.”

“What do you mean gotten?”

“All the little things he’s done for you. He’s never really had to try with a girl, but your relationship is different. And what the hell was the dirt about?”

“You know how some relationships are kinda shallow? You like them because they're hot, or just for sex, or cuz you want to make someone jealous?”

“Yeah.”

“He wants a relationship that's deeper. One that has a strong foundation. The dirt is supposed to be the start of it.”

She sighs and clasps her hands together. “My parents have a relationship like that.”

“My grandma told me this morning that she believes fate brings people into your life but it's up to you to decide who stays.”

“I hope fate brings me a gorgeous, down-to-earth, soulful hottie.”

“So did you have a Thanksgiving break back-up plan? Like, for where you were going if I said no?”

“I had one. Aiden didn’t. Every time I brought it up, he told me no.”

He's good at that word, I think.

“He said he couldn't entertain the thought of you saying no. That he had to focus on the positive. He's been a wreck, Keatyn. I've never seen him like this. No one has.”

“It was a bad deal.”

“But he didn't really do anything wrong. I don't get why you’re still mad.”

“I’m not mad.”

“I know he's my brother and I'm biased, but he's a good guy. And I know that he’s dated a lot of girls and I can see why that would upset you, but—”

I hold my hand up. “We'll figure things out.”

“Fine. I’ll let you two handle it. But I have some stuff that I need to say. Stuff I need to say out loud.”

“Uh, okay.”

“I’ve been living my life with a chip on my shoulder and using what happened to my mom as an excuse to justify my behavior.”

“Have you forgiven yourself?”

“I’m trying. That’s part of why I’m looking forward to this trip. It’s a new beginning for me. Of living with the conscience I was raised with. And of figuring out what I want from life.”

“Any ideas on that?”

“Well, I have enough credits to graduate in December. I'm thinking about doing it and taking some time off. It would mean missing soccer, but it's not like I want to play in college or anything, and I could care less about missing Prom.”

“So would you go home?”

“Maybe. Or get an apartment somewhere fun. New York or L.A. Maybe start my own business.”

“What kind of business?”

“Did you see the journal I gave Miss Tina?”

“With the cool cover? Yeah.”

“I made it. Well, I handmade the paper that I covered it with. I’d love to do something like that. Make really cool paper designs and use them for journals, stationary, wallpaper, lampshades. Do you think I could major in paper making?”

“I’m sure you could major in art. Do you think I could major in shoes?”

“Not acting?”

“Um, no.” Here come the lies again. This is why I can't go back. I'm sick of telling them. She's pouring her heart out to me, and I’m lying to her face.

Speaking of faces, Aiden's beautiful one has a little smirk on it, like he’s having a good dream.

And it makes me feel even more determined to fight Vincent and defeat him.

Maybe I’ll walk right into Vincent's office and say, You want me? Here I am. Let’s make your fucking movie.

Then I’ll see what he does. Maybe he's just a bully and the minute I stand up to him he’ll back down.

Or maybe it would force him to actually make it.

And maybe he could have a freak accident with a lighting boom. Or maybe we could have someone tamper with his brakes. I could send him a note telling him to meet me up the beach. Curvy road, some rain, skidding off a cliff, and good riddance, Vincent.

“Have you ever made a guy bucket list?” Peyton asks me.

“Like all the different types of guys you want to be with?”

She laughs. “No. Like the qualities you want your dream guy to have.”

“Um, not really. I mean, I’ve thought about it, but I’ve never written it down.” Unless you count a script.

“I’m going to make a new bucket list for my life on this trip, and I’m going to rework my Mr. Dreamy List.”

“Mr. Dreamy?”

“Yep. My list for the perfect man.”

“What’s on the list so far?”

“How we’ll meet. Of course, it will be love at first sight. An instant amazing connection.”

“What does he look like?”

“Kinda tall, in good shape, great arms, but not too bulky.”

“Kinda like your dad?”

She cocks her head. “I suppose so. Isn't that what every girl wants? To fall in love with someone like her daddy?”

I think about Tommy and sigh. “Yeah, kinda.”

She keeps going. “I want him to look good but not be all about appearance—like, I don’t want him to spend more time getting ready than I do.”

I laugh, remembering Sander. “I dated a guy like that. I was jealous because his hair always looked better than mine.”

“Exactly, and he needs to look good in the morning, like right when he wakes up. That’s one thing that Camden had. That sexy morning scruff. How he looked even hotter when his hair was messed up.”

“What else?”

“He’ll love to travel, but like being at home too. We’ve traveled a lot with our parents but my best memories are of all of us at home doing nothing but hanging out. That’s going on my new bucket list. I’m even giving it to my parents. They are amazing, but I think they’ve gone a little overboard on the whole experiences thing. They’re missing moments with us.” She looks down at Aiden. “You know, it's funny. He's my little brother, but he's the one who always takes care of me. He even had all those parties in his room to keep me out of trouble.”

“I know.”

“I’m glad he stopped. I need to keep myself out of trouble.”

“So, back to Mr. Dreamy.”

“I think abs are a given, right?”

“Definitely.”

“And I think he'd be darker-haired but not dark and hairy. Like, maybe a guy that was blonde growing up but then his hair got darker.”

“Cute,” I say. “What will he be like personality wise?”

“I'm a Virgo. So, I'm pretty organized and structured. My mom says I need someone who isn’t like that to balance me. Someone who’s creative and free spirited. I don’t really care, as long as he looks good in a suit. And maybe wants to get naughty on his desk,” she says with a grin.

I think about Aiden pushing me on his desk, kissing me with his tongue, and setting my panties aflame. “I like guys who look hot in a suit. Getting naughty on a desk sounds fun too.”

Aiden opens one eye. “Are you two talking about sex?”

Peyton giggles and covers her face with her hand.

“Speaking about talking, isn’t that what we’re supposed to be doing? Cuz if you aren’t careful, you might just get voted off the island before we even get there.”

He gives me an adorable grin as he sits up and wraps his arms around me. “You better not be serious.”

“I think I’m just gonna go listen to some music,” Peyton says, quickly taking a seat on the other side of the aisle.

Aiden leans over and kisses my nose.

“Stop that. It won't work on me.”

He scrunches up his nose, then winces.

I touch it. “Did it hurt bad?”

He takes my hand and lays it over his heart. “Not as much as this did.”

Shit. What am I going to tell him on Sunday? I’ll have to come up with a good lie. One he can't counter.

“I never meant for you to get hurt, Aiden.”

“When you came to my room, I said everything wrong. I was hung over, my face hurt, and I was so fucking pissed. Pissed that Chelsea said those things to you. Pissed that you believed her. Pissed that Riley broke my nose. Pissed he almost got expelled. Logan told me you asked him about the trigger that led to Maggie cheating on him. I know I was the trigger. I shouldn’t have just said no. I should have talked to you about why I said no. It’s just that saying no was hard for me. That’s what I meant earlier when I said I give up. I’m not saying no anymore. But what I don’t understand is why you wouldn’t talk to me after. Why it felt like we were over. Why the chapel felt like goodbye.”

Because it was, I think, as I press my fingers into the corners of my eyes, trying to get rid of my tears, and sigh. “I think I may be leaving Eastbrooke soon,” I blubber. I can’t bring myself to tell him soon means in just four days.

“Why? I thought you liked it.”

“I love it.”

“So, why leave?”

“I miss my family, Aiden. Going home for the birthday party was hard.”

“Do you miss your family or miss your ex?”

“I miss everything.”

The captain comes over the speaker and tells us to get buckled up for our descent into St. Croix, effectively ending our conversation.

Make a wish.

5:30pm

We get picked up from the airport in the Moran's vintage Mercedes station wagon by a driver I have never met and who doesn't look like he belongs.

The driver opens the front passenger-side door and says in an authoritative tone, “Miss Monroe.”

While he and Aiden load up our luggage, and he herds Aiden and Peyton into the backseat, I text Garrett.

Me: Is The Crab’s new driver one of yours?

Garrett: How did you know?

Me: His posture is too stiff for the islands, he's not very friendly, and he has no tan.

Garrett: I sent two men. They’ve fully briefed the usual staff about your situation and about how your friends don't know the old you. They have also removed all photographic evidence of you with your family.

Me: How did you know my friends ended up coming?

Garrett: Cooper was insistent that there be men at the airport. They were scrambling when you went inside the office.

Me: Oh. I just bought more hours.

Garrett: Yes, I heard. Planning on doing a lot of traveling in the near future?

Me: Maybe.

Garrett: Don't you dare take off on your own. You get your butt back to school when break is over.

Me: I'm not sure what I'm going to do.

Garrett: Tommy told me about your conversation. I agree with getting your mom and sisters to France, but why would you be ready to do a movie at Christmastime?

Me: Because I'm going to get my life back. Did he get Mom to agree?

Garrett: She agreed, but they still have to get out of her contracts. It’s going to cost them a lot of money, but Tommy doesn’t care. I’m flying to Nice on Friday to vet the security.

Me: OMG!! I'm so relieved.

Garrett: As am I. Your mom is a wreck.

Me: Make her feel safe, Garrett, and she'll get better.

Garrett: You can make us all feel better by not doing anything stupid. When you get back, I'll come to town and we can discuss this plan of yours with Cooper. Because I highly suspect Cooper knows nothing about it.

Me: I'm tired of lying.

Garrett: Don't do anything rash.

Me: Don't worry. Everything will be well thought out.

Garrett: That worries me more.

Me: I gotta go. I’ll call you after the break. I promise.

We enjoy the breathtakingly beautiful drive from the airport to The Crab, where we are greeted out front by the staff.

“Miss Keatyn,” the long-time cook, Inga, says as she gives me a mama bear hug, “it's been too long.”

I introduce Aiden and Peyton and then say, “I’ll show them to their rooms now.” As they follow me across the great room, I tell them, “After I show you to your rooms, go ahead and get unpacked, freshen up, and change. Then we’ll meet back here and I’ll give you the full tour.”

Peyton stops at an expanse of glass to admire the oceanfront view and the infinity pool below. “This is beautiful,” she says, jumping with excitement.

“Wait until you see your room,” I reply, leading them both down the south breezeway to her guest suite.

“Oh, my gosh,” she says, running from the view of her private tropical courtyard through one set of French doors to the view of the ocean through the other.

I press a button on the wall to light up a screen and quickly explain how to control her music, lighting, room temperature, and curtains, as well as send requests for food, drinks, or any amenity she might need.

“Your closet and bathroom are here,” I say, opening the door to the bathroom that my mom describes as heaven on earth.

“This is amazing,” she says in awe, standing in the middle of the bathroom and taking in the mirrored glass tiles that glitter from every corner of the room. The sleek, pale gray travertine that reflects the colors of the ocean. The spa tub that fills like a rain shower from the ceiling and has views of the ocean. The walk-in shower with its mosaic design on one side and its glass walls opening to her private courtyard on the other.

Aiden jokes, “We may never see her again.”

“Wait until she smells all the food cooking. She’ll wander out.”

Peyton swats her brother but pulls me into a hug. “I can’t thank you enough for letting us come here. This is so incredible.” Then she goes over and plops down on her bed. “I’ll meet you in an hour. Freshening up may take longer than I expected.”

“You can come back through the breezeway or go out on your veranda, take the stairs down, and follow the path back.”

Aiden grabs my hand as I lead him to his room. Even though we slept in the same bed at my loft, I didn't want to assume we would here, and now I'm glad I didn't because I need Aiden in his own room. I cannot fall asleep or wake up in his arms at any time during this trip. It will only make leaving that much harder.

I show him his suite. It’s amazing too, but in a different way. It’s decorated in a traditional British colonial style. Dark wood, pale blues, and amazing views of both mountains and ocean. It also happens to be conveniently located near the path leading to my room.

“This is great,” he says, not really looking. “But I wanna go see your room.”

“Don’t you want to throw on a swimsuit or go to the bathroom or something?” I ask, hoping that he does. I have something that I need to go do by myself.

“I’ll come back for my swimsuit,” he says firmly.

“Uh, well, um, okay. Why don’t you take that breezeway there?” I say, pointing to the one that leads to the turret. “And I’ll meet you there in a minute.”

“Why can’t I just walk with you?”

“Um, well, I have this thing I always do when I first get here. Kind of a tradition. So, I need to go do that and then I’ll meet you there.”

He takes my hand tightly in his, letting me know I’m not going anywhere without him.

“Fine,” I say, rolling my eyes and quickly giving in.

I lead him out onto the veranda, down the stairs, and follow the path to the mermaid fountain.

“This is the fountain you told me about," he says excitedly.

“I always visit it when I first get here.”

“Why?”

I take a couple of pennies from my purse and make a big gesture of handing him one, trying to convince him that this is just a fun, silly little thing I do.

“I make a wish,” I say, avoiding Aiden’s eyes as my voice betrays me by sounding hopelessly romantic. I turn toward the mermaid and her prince, close my eyes, toss my penny into the fountain, and make the same wish I always do.

I wish that someday I'll find my prince.

When I open my eyes, I notice that Aiden’s still holding his penny. “Aren’t you going to make a wish?”

He pulls me into his arms. “I’m standing here with you. I already got my wish.”

I flash him a lame attempt at a smile. Why can’t I hide my emotions around him? It’s the same way with B. It’s like they can both see right through my act.

“Do you always make the same wish?” he asks me.

“Um, yeah.”

He nods and hands me his penny. “Take mine and wish for something new.”

I look into his eyes and know exactly what he wants me to wish for.

Him.

But there’s only one way that could ever be possible.

Aiden holds my hand—I think to give me extra luck—while I toss in the penny.

I wish I could have my life back.

After I open my eyes and watch the penny sink to the bottom, Aiden says, “So, let's see this room of yours.”

I give the mosaic one last, fleeting look, then lead Aiden to the turret entrance, up the spiral wooden staircase, and to the big wooden door. I show him into the round suite with walls of stone, curved window seats, and views of the ocean in almost every direction.

“Wow,” he says. “This is quite a view.”

“You should see the bathroom,” I say, pulling him into it. I show him the big tub that sits on a raised stone pedestal and how it opens up to the outdoors. I lead him out onto my curved balcony.

He looks down and laughs. “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair.”

I laugh too. “I used to stand up here when I was little and make my friend say just that.”

He turns me back toward the bedroom. “You have a big bed,” he says cutely, referring to what I said at my loft when I was trying to get him to share my room.

“I do,” I reply, eyeing the king-sized four-poster bed draped with mosquito netting. “I also used to gather up every pillow in the place, stack them on this bed, and pretend I was the princess from the ‘The Princess and the Pea.’ That reminds me . . .” I walk over to the side table and open the drawer, just to make sure it’s still there.

“What's that?”

I pull the thick book out and show him.

“Fairy tales, huh?”

My eyes get teary thinking about how that’s all I’ve ever wanted.

My fairytale.

My prince.

My happily ever after.

But it all seems so silly now.

Because life is not a fairy tale.

In those stories, a prince never told the princess that he was gay. Or that it was her fault he got drugged. Or that he was going away for a year. Or that he got a text from his ex. And never did the princess have to put him on a plane and send him back to his castle. She never had to fight the dragon alone. And she never had to choose between two princes when the fight was over.

But, then, none of the princesses were stupid enough to make a wish on the moon.

Aiden gently takes the book out of my tight grip and sets it on the table. Then he sweeps me into a dance, humming a familiar song.

One of our songs.

I lean my head into his shoulder and enjoy the dance, knowing this will probably be our last. I try to tuck it away in my memory.

The way his body fits perfectly against mine.

The way his lips feel as they brush across my ear.

The way his hand is splayed possessively across my back.

He stops humming and whispers, “Let me sleep here with you.”

I stop moving and swallow. I can’t.

I really can’t.

But, oh, how I want him to hold me in his arms every second of each day I have left with him.

Even if it’s nothing but pure torture.

A life-sized version of listening to our twenty-nine-song playlist over and over again.

“You told me you wouldn't say no,” I reply, hoping that will force him back to his room.

“I won’t. We can do it right here, right now, if you want to.”

“I want to wait,” I say. I can’t be with him. I cannot be with him.

“Seriously?”

“I never wanted to have sex, Aiden. I just wanted to do a little more. And I hate being told no.”

“That’s a lesson I think I’ve learned,” he says, touching his nose and laughing.

“You’re going to have a little bump on the left side of your nose. Your face isn’t going to be quite so perfect anymore.”

“I’m far from perfect, Boots, but I know that I’m perfect for you.”

My eyes fill with tears again and I can’t help it. I kiss him.

Hard.

Full of passion.

Of regret.

Of I wish.

Of I’m going to cherish every single kiss for the next four days.

“Damn,” he says ten minutes later, after he’s pulled me on the bed and I’ve finally stopped kissing him to breathe. He pushes my hair behind my ear and runs the back of his hand under my chin. “As much as I’d like to stay here and kiss you, we should probably go meet my sister.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” I agree, pushing myself off the bed.

As I run into the bathroom and throw on a bikini, he asks me, “So what were you going to do here all by yourself?”

“I have a list.”

“What’s on it?”

As we walk hand in hand back to the main house, I tell him. “Just some stuff. It’s kinda lame.”

“Tell me anyway.”

I roll my eyes and start reciting my list. “Eat a fish I caught myself was on there, but that sounds gross in retrospect. Do yoga in the sand. Swim with the dolphins.”

“Will we see dolphins?”

“If we take the wave runners out and just sit there, we might.”

“What else?”

“Macramé a pair of sandals.” I laugh at myself. “I probably won’t do that. I don’t even know how to macramé. Let’s see. Make a necklace out of shells. I do that every time I come here.”

“I’d like a shell necklace,” he says, pulling my hand to his lips and kissing it.

“We’ll look for shells tonight,” I say as we wander into the great room and find Peyton kicked back, tropical drink in hand, nibbling off a tray of snacks.

“You need to go change,” she says to Aiden.

My surfboard.

8pm

I’ve given them the full tour, we’ve walked the beach, and we’re now sitting poolside, having a drink and a few appetizers before dinner.

Aiden is telling us about his parents’ Thanksgiving safari when Peyton says casually, “There’s a guy walking up your beach with a surfboard.” She takes another sip of her fruity umbrella drink then asks, “Do people surf at night?”

“Around sunset they do, but not usually in the dark,” I reply, instantly panicking that Vincent has found me.

But then I turn around and see him.

He’s walking up the sandy path, carrying a surfboard and looking like home.

“Oh my gosh! That’s not just any surfboard! It’s my surfboard!” I scream with delight.

I jump up and barrel towards him as he yells out, “Keats!”

I fling myself into his arms and plant a big kiss on him as he picks me up and twirls me around.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” I screech. “And you brought my board!”

When he drops me to my feet, I don’t let go. The last time I saw him, I didn’t hug him like I should have.

“I thought you were supposed to be here alone,” he says.

Shit, I think, glancing back at Aiden and Peyton. This is going to be hard to explain.

“I was but they showed up at the plane and—wait, how did you get here? Do people know you’re here? What if you were followed?”

“Calm down, Keats. I flew from Tokyo to L.A. Went to my dad’s. Even went to the Undertow and offered to play for them tomorrow night, knowing I wouldn’t show up. Then I snuck over to your house and got your board. Glad no one’s changed the garage code. Dad’s assistant picked me up at the pier, drove me around in circles, and then to the airport where I hitched a ride with a company exec to North Carolina. In North Carolina, I had another plane waiting to bring me here. No one knows I’m here but B and Dad’s assistant. Even my family thinks I’m home sleeping off jet lag.”

“I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad I’m here too. Now for what’s important. Tell me that incredible creature sitting on my deck is real and not an amazing jet-lag-induced mirage.”

“She’s real, Damian, but you can’t.”

“Oh, but I can. She has the most perfect lips.”

“Ohmigawd, no. Don’t look at her mouth. Don’t even look at her. And don’t talk to her at all.”

“I’m not going to be rude to your friends.”

“Don't you dare fall for her. You can’t.”

“Too late. She just smiled at me. I'm in love.”

“Damian. No.”

“Don’t tell me no. Be nice. I went through a lot to get here so that you wouldn’t be alone for the holiday. But, happily, you are not. And you even brought me a treat.”

“She is not your treat, but I suppose I’m going to have to have to introduce you.”

“Hell, yeah, you have to. I need to be introduced to my future wife.”

I laugh at him and start to walk back, when Damian grabs my arm and says, “You forgetting something?”

“Oh my gosh! Yes, I am!” I walk back to him with a grin. I love this boy. Ever since the first time I came here when I was nine, he's given me a piggyback ride up to the house.

He drops my board in the sand as I jump onto his back and hang on tight.

He does his normal crazy gallop up to the house, trying to get me to fall, and then deposits me on the deck in front of Aiden and Peyton.

“So, this is my friend, Damian. He brought my surfboard,” I say awkwardly, because I haven’t had the chance to figure out exactly what to say. At school, no one can contradict my lies. Damian and I need to get our stories straight.

“Damian, this is Aiden,” I say as the boys shake hands. “And his sister, Peyton.”

Damian stares into her green eyes with an intensity I’ve never seen.

“Hi,” she says, her voice cracking.

“It looks like I need a drink.” He barely gets the words out of his mouth when Sven sets Damian’s favorite pineapple rum drink in front of him. “It’s good to be back home,” Damian says.

“Home? As in, this is your home?” Aiden asks incredulously.

Damian nods.

“Where have you been?” Peyton asks him excitedly.

“Just traveling around,” Damian answers cryptically. Does he not want Peyton to know he’s in a band or is he worried about our cover story?

“Well, that’s very specific,” Aiden says in a condescending tone.

I look at Aiden. He’s not relaxed anymore. His body is stiff and he’s squeezing the life out of the napkin that was under his drink. Does he not like Damian? Is he mad that I gave him a big kiss on the cheek?

Damian glances at me, giving me his that-guy’s-a-dick look.

“Tell them where you’ve been, Damian,” I say, trying to ease the uncomfortable tension.

“Well, I recently had the pleasure of surfing all over the coast of Japan.”

Aiden smashes his teeth together and pushes himself away from the table with so much force our drinks slosh all over. “Excuse me,” he says and walks away.

Peyton looks at her brother with confusion as Damian says, “What’s his problem?”

“Uh, I don’t know.” I get up and go after him.

He’s marching quickly down the path Damian just walked up.

“Aiden, wait,” I say, running behind him. When he turns around to face me, there’s fire in his eyes.

“You seriously brought me on vacation to his house?”

“Um, yeah. He’s a nice guy, Aiden. You should get to know him.” I stare at him, not understanding why he’s so pissed. “Why are you acting like this?”

“Is that the real reason you told us not to come? Because he decided to?”

“What? No! I didn’t know he was coming, in case you couldn’t tell by my happy screams of surprise.”

“Of course. You’re his Keats. He brings your surfboard and you forget all about me and the dirt.”

“I haven’t forgotten about you or the dirt—oh, wait! He’s not the Keats guy.”

“Bullshit!” Damian yells out from behind us.

“Shut up,” I yell back.

“Don’t let her give you any bullshit stories, man. I’ve always been the Keats guy.”

I grab Aiden’s arm and march him back to the deck, saying to Damian, “Yes, you gave me the nickname, Keats. But I think he thinks you’re B.”

“Oh . . .” Damian says, finally getting it. He turns to Aiden. “Is that why you were being such a dick?” Aiden doesn’t reply, so Damian stands up, pulls me close to him, and laughs. “I may not be that Keats guy, but I was the first guy to kiss her. When she was twelve. You can be jealous of that, if you want.”

“But that’s it,” I quickly state.

“Yeah,” Damian says, faking sadness and shaking his head in sorrow. “I was always her frog.”

I smile at Damian. He’s being adorable and Aiden has already unrolled his fists.

“She hates this,” Damian says, then he licks his tongue up the entire side of my face and goes, “Ribbit!”

I playfully smack him, so he falls back into his chair.

I decide to tell them the story of how I know Damian. That way Damian and I will be on the same page. “I’ve known Damian since I was little. We went to school together and after my dad died, my mom wasn’t coping very well, so the Morans invited us to come stay with them.”

“Back then, it was nothing like what it is today,” Damian adds.

“What was it like?” Peyton asks, batting her eyelashes at him.

“When Dad bought the property, it was a small resort. Six separate beach shacks, which eventually became pieces of the house you see today. The turret was originally on the neighboring property, but Keatyn and I were obsessed with it, so Dad bought it too. It was all that remained of a really old castle—which was home to either a Danish governor or pirates, depending on who tells the story. It was the first thing to get restored.”

“The resort was named The Carib,” I keep going, loving that this conversation has morphed into one about the property. “Carib was a reference to the Native Indians who used to live on St. Croix. But Damian and I took the i out and dubbed it The Crab.” I smile at Damian, remembering all the fun we’ve had here over the years. Back when my life was easy and carefree.

“So, pretty much anytime we came, we invited Keatyn and A—, her mom,” he says, covering quickly. “Dad always said she kept me out of trouble. And she did. She was always making up plays and making me act them out.”

I laugh. “I was sort of obsessed with the story of the frog prince.”

“And Prince Eric and every other fairy tale.”

Peyton stands up suddenly and grabs my arm. “Keatyn, come with me to get some drinks.”

I’m about to tell her all she has to do is press the button on the digital screen sitting on the side table, but she whisks me inside before I can speak.

“Ohmigawd! I just figured it out!”

“Figured what out?” I say, trying to keep the panic out of my voice.

What did she figure out? That he almost said Abby? Or that Matt and my mom have worked together on movies for years?

“That’s Damian Moran.”

I laugh with relief. “Um, yeah. I told you that.”

“No, you introduced him as Damian and then you said something about the Morans. That means his dad is the director, Matt Moran? And he’s Twisted Dreams’ Damian?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“But why didn’t you say that you knew him when we were watching his video?”

“I think I did. You probably don’t remember,” I lie. “You were busy lusting over him. I told you we’d get tickets to his concert, remember?”

“Oh, yeah, I do remember that. Anyway. Oh. My. Gosh. He is so dreamy. And even cuter in real life! Do you think he’ll sing for us?”

“Peyton, he just got off tour. I think he’s looking forward to some down time. No screaming fans.”

“Oh, of course he is. Shit.” She runs her hands nervously down her cover-up. “Do I look okay?” She peeks in a mirrored surface on the bar. “Oh, my hair is a mess. Why didn’t you tell me my hair’s a mess?”

“Damian loves windblown hair.” Shit. Why did I just say that? But it’s fine. Knowing Peyton, she’s probably just looking for a hookup.

“Did you see the way our eyes met? I swear, it was exactly how I pictured it would be with Mr. Dreamy. That instant connection. He’s amazing.”

Or not. Shit!

“Peyton, what do you mean? You don’t even know him.”

“So he’s not amazing?”

“He’s my best friend. Of course, he’s amazing. I just mean . . .”

“Fine. I don’t know him well enough yet to say, but seriously, I think I’m in love with him. He looked so sexy standing there . . .”

I tune out her gushing because they. Can. Not. Be. Together.

I picture it in my head. Vincent finding out Damian is dating some East Coast boarding school girl. He wonders how they met and immediately thinks of Miami. Of how Riley and Dallas were dressed in total prep. And then he comes to Eastbrooke looking for me. None of them would be safe.

“I think this calls for champagne,” I say, grabbing a bottle out of the fridge, four flutes from the bar, and hitting a button on the wall.

Maybe the champagne will calm me down.

Sven comes out of the kitchen. “Yes, Miss Monroe?”

“We’re having champagne to celebrate Damian’s surprise arrival. Can we get a bucket of ice?”

“Of course. Would you like me to uncork it for you?”

“No, thanks. We’ll do it.”

“Very well. I’ll bring the champagne stand out to the deck. Would you like to eat dinner poolside or on the screened veranda?”

“The veranda,” I reply as he retreats to the butler’s pantry.

“We brought champagne,” Peyton coos as she ditches her former seat for one on the couch next to Damian. I notice Damian’s eyes lingering on her long legs.

I hand Aiden the bottle. “Would you like to do the honors? You did such a good job with it the last time we had champagne.”

“And when was that?” Damian asks.

“They went to Keatyn’s loft in New York City a few weeks ago,” Peyton says dreamily as Damian squints at me. I shake my head slightly, letting him know that now is not the time for him to ask about the loft.

Aiden pops the champagne and we all stand as he fills our glasses. Then he raises his own in a toast. “‘A thing of beauty is a joy forever: its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness.’”

“That’s beautiful,” Peyton says as we clink glasses.

“And especially true, since we’re surrounded by nothing but beauty,” Damian says, holding Peyton’s gaze.

I grasp my chair and slowly sit. My mind replays B saying the same quote right before he kissed me. And how he recently texted me the rest of the quote. How I used it in my script.

I’m really starting to hate poetry.

“More Keats, huh?” I say to Aiden while Peyton and Damian flirt.

“I realize it’s risky, but it was one of the texts I sent you.”

“You mean one of the texts that you deleted.”

“Yes. I think I was somewhere between pathetic and desperate at that point.”

“What do you think it means?”

He takes a swig of his champagne, like it will give him confidence, as Sven returns with the champagne bucket.

“Dinner is served on the veranda,” he says. “Shall I move the champagne there?”

“Absolutely,” Damian replies excitedly. “I’m starved. What’s on the menu tonight?”

“Miss Monroe requested Kobe burgers—”

“With your homemade jerk sauce?” Damian interrupts.

“Of course,” the butler replies, with mock indignation. “Inga wouldn’t dare use anything else.”

“And there’s homemade French fries with her secret seasoned dip,” I tell Damian. “Your favorite.”

Peyton and Damian gather up their glasses and head toward the veranda.

Aiden grabs my pinky with his. “I think it means that love is a thing of beauty. That it never fades away. I’m sorry I was a jerk. I just thought . . .”

“It’s okay. You reacted and walked away,” I say, suddenly feeling sad. Mostly because I know he’s going to do the same thing in a few days. Only this time, he’ll walk out of my life for good. “Why don’t you go on to dinner? I don’t want to leave my board outside. I’ll just be a minute, but don’t wait for me.”

I turn and walk down to the sand, leaving Aiden standing there alone.

I pick my board up and lovingly wipe the sand off it. I remember practically passing out when B surprised me with it on my sixteenth birthday. How he told me I’d outgrown my beginner’s board. I run my hand across the hot pink and orange graphics that he designed and notice something new. Running down one of the rails is a sticker in flowing script.

I close my eyes, fighting back tears for the hundredth time today, and wonder when he added it. It had to be after he knew he was leaving, but before my party. It’s exactly the kind of sweet thing he would’ve done. And I know exactly what I would’ve done once I’d seen it. I’d have taken my board out into the water and had a good cry; then I would’ve gotten my ass on a plane to wherever he was.

And, after hearing his side of the story, that’s probably exactly what he had hoped for.

It would have been romantic and dramatic. An amazing script.

The problem is, I don’t know how the story would’ve ended.

Would we have fought like we did in Europe and broken up for good? Or would we have ended up living happily ever after?

I carry my board to the storage area, standing it up next to the other surfboards and water toys. Before I leave, I run my fingers across the words and vow to bring chaos into Vincent’s life.

I wander over to the veranda slowly, trying to compose myself. I see Aiden, Peyton, and Damian, all sitting around the big table, laughing and eating. Well, Peyton and Damian are laughing. Aiden seems to be lost in thought.

I feel bad about what I said about him walking away, because I know I would’ve done the exact same thing.

I give him a smile and sit down next to him. He puts his hand on my thigh under the table and gives it a squeeze. I know it’s supposed to be a sweet, reassuring squeeze, but it doesn’t comfort me.

It sends tingles across my body, causing me want to forget about tomorrow, drag him to my room, strip him naked, and dare him to say no to me again.

I eat a few fries and pick at my burger—two things I normally love—while carrying on polite table conversation. After Damian steals the last fry, he says, “Peyton, would you like to go for a walk on the beach?”

“I’d love to,” she says in an unusually high-pitched voice.

She follows Damian toward the screen door but then stops and turns around.

“You guys want to join us?” she asks nicely, but I can tell it’s the last thing she wants.

“Naw, you go,” I tell her as Aiden says, “We should go.”

“Why should we go?” I ask him as Peyton rushes to the beach without waiting for us.

“I can’t just let my sister go out there with him alone. She doesn’t even know him.”

“You don’t have to worry about her being safe, Aiden. He’s a great guy.”

He squints his eyes at me, judging. “What does he do? Is he in school? Have a job?”

“Um, he’s in a band called Twisted Dreams. They did a European tour this summer and then Japan this fall. And he got his GED so he could go on tour.”

“So, does he hook up with girls on tour?”

Uh, yeah, I think, but I can’t say that. “I don’t think so.”

Aiden rubs the side of his face. “You sure she’ll be okay?”

“I promise.”

“Fine. I’m really tired, anyway. I was hoping to head to bed soon.”

“Bed?”

“Yes, bed,” he says. “Come on, I’ll walk you to your room.”

“Um, are you tired?” I ask as we walk to the turret. Did he decide that he doesn’t want to sleep with me?

When we get to my door, he gives me a kiss on the cheek. “Good night, then.”

I nod at him, so he turns to walk away.

But I can’t let him go.

“Aiden, I don’t . . .”

“I don’t want to be alone either,” he says, quickly finishing my thought and hugging me tightly. “I know we have a lot to talk about, but when you came back from putting away your board, you seemed—I don’t know—distant.”

“We have all break to talk,” I say, avoiding the inevitable. “And I’m just tired.”

“It has been a really long day, Boots.”

“I know,” I reply as he opens the door and sees my room at night. The bedding is turned down and the candles in the hurricane lanterns on each side of the bed are lit. The screen door is pulled shut to keep out the bugs but allow the soothing ocean sounds in, and the sky is dotted with a million stars.

He looks around the room. “This is beautiful.” He laughs. “I think I say that about everything when I’m with you.” He pulls me onto the bed with him, kisses my shoulder, and then whispers in my ear, “You make every moment beautiful.”

We lie down on the bed and I snuggle into his shoulder.

He doesn’t talk, just gently strokes my hair.

I soak up his presence, trying to absorb everything that is Aiden into my memory. His dreamy scent. The way my head fits perfectly on his shoulder. How when I’m with him I feel like I’m in a bubble, safe and protected from the outside world.

Tears start sliding onto Aiden’s chest before I can stop them.

“Baby, why are you crying?”

“Because I didn't think I’d ever get to lie in this spot again.”

“You fit perfectly.”

“I’m sure other girls have fit just fine.”

“Maybe, but that was BK.”

“BK?”

“Yeah, Before Keatyn. Because since you came into my life, no one else fits.”

“Aiden, why did you write on the moon?”

“I was trying to be poetic and tell you how I feel.”

“So, you feel like the moon has been holding your dreams afar?”

“Lately, yes.”

“Me too.” I say, snuggling closer and quickly falling asleep.