Like, poor Peyton. Her college boyfriend is probably cheating on her.

Then she says, “It seems like all they want to do is drink beer and party. I’m over that. I want a guy to walk me to class every day. Plus, Jake has gotten so hot. And since Kate married Will, royalty is very in style.”

She glances at me. Lets her eyes trail down my uniform with disgust. Like I’m destroying the school’s reputation with my wardrobe. And I look really cute today. Plaid skort. Tory Birch silk georgette blouse with black piping. Black cardigan. Black over-the-knee socks. Adorable short black cowboy boots with silver star studs. A black studded cross body bag. Thick black leather cuff with silver and crystals.

I ignore her look and turn toward Dawson. He’s been acting weird today. Almost ignoring me. I want to talk to him about it, but there is no way I’m going to say something about it now, where Whitney can hear.

I look down at the table and wonder why I’m still sitting here.

“Hey, I’m gonna go sit with Dallas and Riley,” I say quietly to Dawson.

As I walk away, I hear Whitney say to him, “Dawson, Dawson . . .”

I can tell she is getting ready to slam him, or probably me. Either way, I don’t want to hear it.

I sit down at the boys’ table next to Riley.

A few seconds later, Dawson slides into the seat next to me and sighs loudly. “Did you see the pictures on Facebook?”

“What pictures?”

“The ones Annie took of us kissing.”

“Uh, no.”

“Everyone has seen them. Everyone is talking about them. I’m kinda freaking out about this.”

“Why are you freaking out? Wait. Are you saying you don’t want anyone to know you’ve kissed me? Is that the problem? Is that why you’re acting so weird today?”

He sighs again. And it pisses me off because I realize what he’s not saying. He’s upset Whitney saw them.

Honestly, if I were smart, I wouldn’t want her to see them either. I really don’t want to battle her.

I just want to go to school, make some friends, and try not to get killed in the process.

Is that so much to ask?

He says, “I, uh, no, it’s not that. She tagged us both. She added titles to the pictures like Cutest couple EVER, SOOOO ROMANTIC!!!!, and Submitting to MTV Awards as the BEST KISS OF THE YEAR! I know that people have seen us kiss and stuff. I don’t know. I guess I just wasn’t prepared for it to be quite so public.”

Public?

He’s embarrassed of me?

Me?!

Wow.

I realize now why it seemed like people were murmuring behind me during my classes this morning. Why some girl I’ve never met asked me if I was going out with Dawson.

Who knew that while my head was sleeping happily on my pillow other events were occurring, unfolding, whatever you would call it. These photos are like the shot heard ’round the world. Honestly, I don’t know what the shot heard ’round the world was. Seems like I studied that at some point during History. I can’t remember, but I’m pretty sure that this Facebook post was like that shot.

Remind me to never go to bed so early.

Dawson is looking down at the table. He’s fidgeting, rubbing his fingers together nervously. He knows he’s being a jerk. And I know for sure that he’s not over Whitney, no matter what he says.

I touch his hand and say slowly, “Hey, don’t worry about it. If you’re that embarrassed, untag yourself, and I’ll make sure that we don’t kiss in public—or in private, for that matter—ever again.”

I shove my chair away from the table.

Get up.

Throw my untouched lunch into the trash.

As if I haven’t had enough, Whitney meets me at the trash. She tosses a single napkin in the barrel.

“Great photos on Facebook.” Then she lowers her voice. “Obviously, he’s embarrassed. I told you, you’re just fresh meat. I remember how he always posted pictures of us on Facebook. He still loves me, you know.”

I don’t say a word to her, just storm outside, to a bench far away from the scene of the crime.

I very feel alone. I look at my phone, sigh, and text Brooklyn.

Me: Sorry for the other night. I’m still kind of reeling from everything that’s happened. From my life being turned upside down. I’m confused. You say things that confuse me. Half the time you act like you want to be just friends. The other half, it seems like you want us to be more.

B<3: I’m sure you are. And I’m sorry too. I know you were upset about the tour. I know that I handled things badly. But you’ll always be my friend. I’ll always love you. We’re not over. At least I hope we’re not. But for us to get through this, for us to possibly be together long term, we’re going to have to be flexible in our relationship. I’m trying to keep you in my life. I want you in my life.

Me: Maybe I should just come back home and face him. I don’t think I can do this here. I miss you. I miss everyone.

B<3: Do you really miss me or are you just having a rough day?

Me: It hasn’t been the greatest of days :(

B<3: Give it some time.

I read his text then throw my phone in my backpack. What he said was sweet and probably both true and wise but, really, it doesn’t make me feel any better. I lean back and close my eyes. Tell myself to be chill. Tell myself I’m at the beach. Pretend I can feel the salty air, the ocean breeze.

I start to daydream.

FADE IN: A BEACH IN MALIBU BATHED IN MOONLIGHT

A young prince is riding down the beach on a white stallion.

A girl is also on the beach. She’s wearing a gorgeous pink strapless gown with a corseted waist. The skirt of the dress is layer upon layer of pale pink ruffles. Her hair is half up, the rest is cascading in curls onto her shoulders. A tall, dark man dressed in a black suit has a hold on the princess’ wrist and is dragging her up the beach to the dragon’s lair.

PRINCESS KEATYN

Help!

DARK MAN

No one is going to hear you scream.

The prince hears the fair maiden’s scream. He turns his horse around and gallops toward the noise. He sees the girl. And instantly falls in love. He’d do anything to protect her. He jumps off his steed and pulls out his sword. Fights the man to death.

Then he turns his attention toward the princess, who was knocked to the ground in the scuffle.

PRINCESS KEATYN

(Turns to face her rescuer. And recognizes his handsome face.)

Someone sits down on the bench next to me.

I open my eyes and see Dallas.

“You sure told him,” he laughs.

“What are you talking about?”

“Dawson. How you basically said you weren’t gonna kiss him again. And, by the way, are your panties purple today? It feels like they are.”

I laugh. I can’t help it. Dallas is freaking funny. And he has a way of being funny at just the right times.

“Close, they’re pink. Hot pink.”

“Yeah, I told you about lying to me, Kiki. I think you’re definitely lying. I’m gonna have to call for a panty check.”

“I’m not showing you my underwear.”

He leans in closer to me and says quietly, “Well, of course not here, sweetie. I was thinking somewhere more private.”

So done with boys.

Damn, French.

I know we’ve only been in school for four days, but I consider skipping French.

I wonder what happens when you skip?

Seems like I read it in the student guide, but my mind is blank. I start writing another script in my mind. One where I go to the nurse and convince her I have a bad case of cramps or that I’m gonna vomit.

Honestly, vomiting sounds fun compared to sitting in front of Aiden, with his judgmental eyes boring into the back of my head.

He sits down, leans forward in his desk, and whispers into my left ear. “So, I heard you and Dawson are through.”

What!? It’s been—wait, let me check—seventeen minutes since I told Dawson I wouldn’t kiss him again. And Aiden already knows about this?!

I don’t turn around.

I can’t.

I don’t dare look into his eyes or stare at his smile.

I just say, “Where did you hear that?”

“Lunch. Heard he was upset about your stupid Facebook pictures.”

“They aren’t my pictures. I didn’t post them. Didn’t even know that Annie posted them.”

“You know what I mean. The pictures of you two.”

“Dawson and I never even got started, so I’m not sure how we’re through. But I do know that I cannot wait for this weekend.”

“What are you doing? Are you going back home?”

“Nope. Going to see the guy that quotes me Keats.”

“Oh,” he says.

We’re walking out of class when he says to me, “Hey, you coming to watch the JV game tonight? I was thinking about scoring some more points.”

“Good luck with that,” I tell him and leave him in my dust.

Seriously, I AM DONE WITH BOYS.

It’s obvious that I am not in an emotional state to handle any of them.

Wishing it was laced with rum.

7:30pm

Apparently, it’s okay to be done with boys but I still have to go watch them play football. Katie told me I had to go with her to the JV game. Plus, I promised Riley that I would. He told me in History that he’s starting tonight and wants me to watch and cheer for him. He even admitted to being a little nervous about it. Seeing Riley not blazing with confidence was surprising so, of course, I agreed.

Katie and I sit in the bleachers with Annie, Maggie, and Dallas—whose wrist is broken—and some of the freshman boys from orientation.

Riley does really well. He lines up under center, drops back, and throws a perfect long spiral down the field, straight into Aiden’s open hands. Aiden catches it and runs about eight yards into the end zone. We all scream, cheer, and shake paper pompoms. Aiden tosses the ball back to the ref, looks straight into the stands—at me, I think—kisses his glove, and blows the kiss into the stands.

I know I should be thrilled that the god just blew me a kiss, but all I can see is Cush’s face. His dimples flashing at me when he shot me a kiss after he scored during his soccer game. Right before he took me to our perfect night at the hotel.

I wonder what he’s doing right now.

And I pray to God it’s not Vanessa.

Dallas turns to me and says in a high-pitched voice, “Oh, how adorable! Aiden blew me a kiss. Now I just need to find out what color his panties are and we will get married, buy an organic farm, adopt twins, and happily wear pink for the rest of our lives.”

I roll my eyes at him.

Katie grabs my arm with excitement. “Oh my gosh! Did Aiden just blow you a kiss?!”

“I’m not really sure. Maybe he just does that whenever he scores, you know, like blowing them into the stands at his fans or whatnot. Or maybe he has a girlfriend we don’t know about.”

“Or maybe he considers you his girlfriend, and you just don’t know it yet.”

“That is definitely not it. Hey, I’m gonna go get a hotdog. Anybody want anything?”

I threw my lunch in the trash, skipped dinner to sulk, and now I’m starved. Dallas asks me to bring him some Skittles as I clump down the bleachers.

Dawson has been sitting in the bleachers just below and slightly to the left of us with a group of people, cheering enthusiastically for his brother. Which I am really glad to see.

Whitney and Jake are nowhere to be seen. I heard in dance today that they’re going out, but Katie told me it is not FBO, Facebook official, yet, so not to believe the rumors.

I believe the rumors and know without a doubt it’s true. You could see it coming. She’s been publicizing the hell out of Jake. Sending out all sorts of little rumors. Getting people talking about him. And she’s been making out with Jake in front of Dawson every chance she gets. She wants to make him jealous. She doesn’t really want him, she just wants him to want her, to pine for her. Having someone as hot as Dawson begging for you ups your status.

The thing with girls like her, though, is they are sneaky. They’re always planning and scheming. That’s why they’re hard to beat. Who else would spend so much time trying to get Jake built up to relationship status? And to one-up Dawson in the process.

She should be a publicist when she grows up. She has marketed Jake to perfection. She’s made him into the new It boy in less than a week.

That’s what Vanessa was planning on doing to the lacrosse player that got hot over the summer. She wanted to parade him around school. Make them the next power couple.

Is there some top-secret Alpha guide somewhere? Because clearly Whitney and Vanessa are following the same handbook.

I have to walk in front Dawson and crew to go to the concession stand.

I really should’ve thought ahead and sent Dallas.

Tyrese, who is sitting right next to Dawson, yells at me, “Keatyn-baby, come here!”

I want to pretend that I didn’t hear him, but I’m like a dog; when I hear my name I can't help but turn my head toward the noise.

But guess what, boys? I’m not coming here.

I look at Tyrese, lift my chin in the air, give him a little princess-in-the-crowd wave, smile, and keep on walking.

I get to the concession stand.

Decide to feed my depression with food.

Buy two hotdogs and three types of candy.

I’m stuffing one of the hotdogs into my mouth, eating it quickly so that when I get back to the stands it will look like I only bought one.

My mouth is stuffed full when Dawson rounds the corner and beelines straight toward me.

Shit.