The Keatyn Chronicles: Adore Me Page 2

  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 take
s 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.