Love Me (40 page)

Me:  Tell me what's going on. I miss you. 

RiAnne:  I miss you too. Vanessa is dating the rugby player. They were Homecoming prince and princess this year. 

Me:  That's cool. 

RiAnne:  And guess what? I was nominated! 

Me:  That's a big honor, Ri. 

RiAnne:  Thanks. Where are you?

Me:  I can't tell you. Random question, but I saw some pictures of V and Bam and there was a guy there. That hot older guy I talked to at the hotel. Do you hang out with him?

RiAnne:  We see him at the club sometimes. I think he's a creeper. But V thinks he's hot. She's gone to his house and stuff. Like for the whole weekend. You know.

I want to throw up.

RiAnne:  But not lately. She's actually pretty into rugby. Like she's gone to all his games. And she hasn't cheated on him in three weeks, which is a record. Apparently, he’s great in the sack. 

Me:  I’m glad she's happy. What about you?

RiAnne:  Same. So many guys to kiss, so little time. Lately I have been kissing on Alex Littleton. 

Me:  Ri!! He is hot!!!

RiAnne:  I know, right? I'm all that. We’ve been working out together and I've lost 6 1/2 pounds.

Me:  Is he a good kisser? 

RiAnne:  The. Best. 

Me:  I have to go. I'm deleting my profile.

RiAnne:  No! You can't. 

Me:  I have to. There is a girl here who hates me and I don't want her to know about my old life. 

RiAnne:  Keatyn, you of anyone ought to be able to handle a mean girl. 

Me:  Yeah, I know. And I promise, if I ever get back home, I’ll call you.

RiAnne:  Pinkie swear?

I get tears in my eyes as I type.

Me:  Yeah, Ri. I do.

RiAnne:  You know, if you would’ve stood up to Vanessa, like to her face, she would’ve respected you for it.

Me:  That’s good advice. You taking it yourself?

RiAnne:  Yeah. And I’m much happier. (That, and I’m skinnier than her.)

I don’t reply. I wipe a tear from my eye. Then I do it. 

Delete, delete. Yes, I'm sure. 

“Done,” I say to Cooper.

“Tonight after curfew, meet me in the small gym. We’ll get to work.”

Friday, November 11th

Shoe porn.

3:15pm

After soccer practice, Cooper herds me into his office and shuts the door. 

I’m tired from being up late last night learning an assailant’s attack zones. Muscles I didn’t even know existed are sore.

“You need to lay off on the workouts. I’m so sore from last night. Thank goodness I don’t have dance or a game tonight.”

“Tonight is what I want to talk to you about. Going to New York is not a good idea.”

“I’m going.”

“Then I’m going with you.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Where are you staying?”

“I’ll be at my loft, Cooper. No one from my old life—not even my family—knows about it. A few people from school have been there but other than that, only Garrett and the guy that handles my money know where it is. I’m safe there.”

“What if someone sees you in the street? Or worse, in front of your loft, and thinks you look like Abby and calls him? He already did auditions there.”

“That’s why New York City is safe. Everyone is too busy to notice me. And I really don’t look that much like her in passing. It’s only the combination of my voice and gestures when people seem to notice. So I won’t talk to anyone. I’ll wear sunglasses.”

“You should be more afraid. How can you not be scared after Vancouver?”

“I am scared, but I can’t let it rule my life. I know we had a close call. I’m grateful that you planned ahead and he couldn’t trace our flights. I know you got out the guns and we all kind of freaked out, but he wasn’t going to forcefully take me in front of all those people.”

“All
what
people? Me and two pilots? That’s nothing. In Miami, he would have lied his way out of the club. Said you were drunk or sick. He could have drugged you. He could flash a fake badge like I did and say you were a fugitive. No one would think twice. He’s a brilliant liar. Hell, he’s lying to the whole country right now.”

“I gave up everything I love to keep my family and friends safe. Garrett told me I may never get to go back.” I start to cry. “That I have to start a new life. I’m trying so hard to do that.”

He pulls me into a hug, just as Whitney bursts through the door. 

I jump and pull out of Cooper’s hug. 

“What’s wrong?” Whitney snaps.

Cooper takes control, herding her out of the room and saying harshly, “Don’t ever barge into my office like that again. Do you understand me?”

“But she barged in your office just the other day. Why was that okay?”

“She’s on my soccer team.”

“And I’m in your health class.”

“Make an appointment.” The force that he says it with makes me glad he’s on my side. 

Whitney nods obediently and says politely. “I’m sorry, Mr. Steele, I hoped to talk to you about the French Weekend.”

“As you can see, I’m busy. If you don’t stop randomly dropping by without an appointment, I’ll withdraw my help on the project. We clear?”

“Uh, yes, sir.” She turns and walks quickly away.

“And if I open this door and catch you eavesdropping, you’ll be finding yourself in detention.” 

He sits on the corner of his desk. “Continuing. You’ve been there how many times before?”

“Just twice. Once with Dawson and once with my friends.”

“And one of those times Vincent was there?”

“Yes. But he was following my mom, not me. And Garrett told me to trust my gut. My gut tells me I’m safe there. For now. Like I am at school.”

“For now,” he adds somberly.

“The loft is where Garrett told me to go if Vincent ever found out I’m here.”

Cooper nods. “I’m just trying to think ahead. Of what could go wrong.”

“What do you think could go wrong?”

“A million things. But, realistically, he’d have to know you were here to know you went there. So then it becomes the possibility that he sees you somewhere there. That’s probably not going to happen randomly. So he’d have someone looking for you. Like he did in Vancouver. Like I’m pretty sure he had on the beach. He’d go to the places he’d expect you to go. Clubs. Shopping. Favorite restaurant. Could he know any of those things about you?”

“I never told him.”

“On Facebook maybe?”

“No. I never posted anything about New York. The only thing could be . . .”

“Could be what?”

“Shoe porn, maybe.”

“What the hell is shoe porn?”

“It’s when you post a photo of a hot shoe on social media. Shoes that other girls will drool over. Kind of like you would over a hot guy.”

Cooper laughs and shakes his head. “Shoe porn. Now I’ve heard everything. So, I’d go to shoe stores, flash a photo of you, give them my card, tell them it’s a hundred bucks if they call me.”

“Would you do that in New York?”

He thinks for a second. “New York. Miami. Near the rehab in Utah. And probably Vancouver. Upscale stores. Shoe department.”

“So I can’t go shoe shopping?”

“No shoe shopping.”

“I can’t . . .” 

“Do you want to go by yourself? I like New York. I could come stay with you and Aiden. That’d be cozy.”

“Fine. No shoe shopping.”

“Do you promise? I’m serious. Do you promise?”

I close my eyes and nod. “Yeah. I promise.”

For a rainy day.

8pm

Aiden walks in my loft and says, “Wow. The ceiling is amazing.”

I tell him about the history of the building. Its former life as a small concert hall.

“What about all the furniture?”

“A designer chose all the pieces. I did some design boards that mixed pieces of furniture with colors, clothes, and shoes I love and somehow he extrapolated that to furniture and accessories.”

“I want to see it all,” he says, grabbing my hand and leading me around like he owns the place. I think about Dawson. How he barely got me in the door before attacking me. Part of me was hoping the loft would have the same effect on Aiden. 

But part of me is glad it hasn’t. 

When he lets go of my hand to examine a funky hand-blown glass piece, I notice how perfect Aiden looks in here. Almost like the designer picked him out too. He's wearing jeans that are fashionably ripped and frayed at the seams. A Band of Outsiders jersey hoodie that skims across his muscles. A casual blazer. 

Having Aiden here makes my loft feel more like a home. 

It’s weird. When I think of home, I think of Malibu. Of my family. 

I’ve tried to write new scripts. Ones where I go home. Ones where I don’t get to go home. Ones where Dawson and I live in the Hamptons. Ones where Aiden and I live in Napa and watch the sunset together. Ones where Brooklyn tells me he wished on the moon the night of prom and where we stay up to watch the sunrise together. 

But when it comes time to write it down—to actually script it—I can’t do it. Instead, I keep writing what happens every day in my journal. 

I figure if Vincent gets me, maybe someone will find it and use it for a Lifetime movie.

I’m brought back to reality when Aiden says, “I think I'll take this one,” in one of the guest rooms. He walks out of the room then returns with his leather duffle and backpack and sets them on the bed. 

Is it bad that when he told me that he wanted to use the feather on me here that I assumed that we were going to sleep together? And that I have a purse full of condoms? 

Aiden takes my hand in his and continues to explore, now landing in the kitchen. “Love the teal island. And the stainless steel appliances mixed with the rustic painted furniture.” He pulls me into his arms and kisses the tip of my nose. “Did I tell you I'm a pretty good cook?”

I want to say
I'm not surprised; you're good at everything,
but I say, “Does that mean you’re gonna cook for me tonight?” 

He opens the fridge and looks inside. “You're prepared.”

“Yeah, I wasn't sure what you'd want to do, so I ordered in a bunch of food.”

He grabs an apple, takes a big bite out of it, and shuts the door. “Let's see everything else, then we’ll decide.”

“This was another big selling point,” I say, leading him out the door off the kitchen. “Outdoor space is hard to find, so this made up for the fact that it isn't on Park Avenue.”

“My sister told me about the hot tub. Love the outdoor space. Show me your room.”

My room. 

My bed. 

I lead him into the bedroom, where he lets go of my hand to check it out. First, he peeks in the bathroom. "So you've never taken a bath in here?" 

“No, not yet.” 

“We’ll add that to the list.”

“The list?”

“Yeah, of the things we’re going to do this weekend. This your closet?” he asks, interrupting my thoughts of him lying naked on my furry rug. 

I nod as he opens the door. He steps in and then turns and grins at me. “This has to be your favorite room in the house.”

“Why do you think that?” 

“It just feels different. Has a different vibe.”

“I had it decorated exactly like my closet at home.”

Aiden is listening but he's also poking through the closet. Looking at the shoes I bought last time I was here but didn’t take back to school. Some basics I ordered online just in case I ever have to leave everything at school and run. He glances at the book of Keats’ poetry that’s lying on the table next to my chaise, not knowing that the four-leaf clover he gave me is safely pressed inside. 

“You don't have any pictures of your family,” he states.

“I haven't had the chance to add many personal touches yet.” I open a drawer and pull out a small silver frame. “This is me holding my little sister when she was born.”

He takes the frame out of my hand and studies it. “She's tiny and adorable. You look young.”

“It was three years ago. Thanks for encouraging me to go to her party. I’m so glad I didn’t miss it.”

He flashes me a beaming smile, hands me back the photo, then makes a beeline for the long burgundy dress I bought when we went shopping for Homecoming. “What's this for?”

“Oh, I don't know. I found it when we were shopping for court dresses. I'm saving it.”

“You do that, don't you?”

“Do what?”

“Buy clothes in the hopes that you'll have somewhere perfect to wear them. Like the dress you were saving for Paris.”

“Yeah, I guess I do.”

“You're hopeful. Optimistic. I like that about you. What about these?” He points to a shoebox as he pops off the lid. “Why are these in their box and not displayed on the shelves with the others?”

He pulls out the shoes I was wearing when Vincent tried to kidnap me. A lump forms in my throat and I can't reply. 

"Oh. This one’s broken,” he says. “What happened?”

 I’m trying to think up a lie when a note falls off the shoe. 

Aiden picks it up and reads it aloud. “
I thought you needed to be reunited with footwear that is the real you.  -G
. Who's G?”