The Keatyn Chronicles: Adore Me (6 page)

“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.