Me: I’m sorry it upset you. Obviously, I was pretty upset myself. Look, I’ve got to go. I’m at rehearsal and I have a ton of homework.

Dawson: I’m going to make it up to you.

Me: How are you planning to do that?

Dawson: I’m not sure. Is there anything I can do to make you get over it?

Me: Talking about it might help. Like if I really knew what you were thinking. Maybe. Part of me doesn’t want to know. Part of me would prefer to just stay mad. Being mad is easier.

Dawson: Please don’t stay mad at me, Keatie. Please. Can we talk tonight? Like after rehearsal?

Me: If I get out in time.

Dawson: If not, we’ll go to the Cave later or something. Okay?

Me: Okay.

Aiden strolls in around eight-thirty. I’ve done two of my scenes in the first act of the play and managed to get a rough draft of my essay done.

“I just stopped by to tell you that I can’t do tutoring tonight.”

“Yeah, I kinda already figured that,” I say, trying to hide my disappointment. I’ve come to enjoy hanging out with Aiden during practice.

“I’m glad I skipped out on the taping for a while and went to French. We had a pop quiz today.”

“How did you do?”

“Good, I think. Your tutoring seems to be working.”

“Well, that’s good.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Uh, sure. What are you doing tonight?”

He grins at me. Probably reading my mind and knowing that I’m dying to know what else he has to do. How much do you want to bet it involves a curvy cheerleader who he is friends with?

“I’m helping Riley and Dallas with the video. Riley’s worried that he won’t get it done. What he’s done so far, though, is really good.”

“That’s nice of you, Aiden. But I’m kind of surprised. I didn’t think you and Riley were friends.”

“We were friends during football camp, then we got into it in the locker room that one day.”

“As in the day he slammed you against a locker for talking shit about me and Dawson?”

Aiden hangs his head a little. “Yeah.”

“Riley’s a good guy,” I say.

“Yeah, I know. He’s not like Dawson.”

“Dawson is a good guy.”

Aiden rolls his eyes at me, shakes his head, and says, “See ya later, Boots.”

The way he says it sounds kind of dreamy. His voice. His mouth. Everything about him is just plain dreamy.

But then I remember another time he said those words to me.

After our 29 dances.

Which means I probably won’t hear from him for days.

Don’t stop kissing me.

9:45pm

We get out of rehearsal a little early, so I go see Dawson.

When I get there, he immediately pulls me onto his bed and kisses me.

We kiss, and kiss, and kiss.

He runs his hands up the sides of my shirt and pulls it off. Then he kisses my neck, my chest, and my stomach. Then he stops, puts an arm above my shoulder and leans close to my face.

“We haven’t been talking. I’m sorry. I’m having a hard time starting over. We should stop kissing and talk, right? What do you want to talk about?”

“I just have one thing to say.”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t stop kissing me.” I grab his shirt and pull him back toward my lips.

Which is all he needs. He kisses me passionately and does some other stuff that I very much enjoy. I start to feel that familiar yearning.

Why is it that I don’t want to have sex with him?

Is it because I want to punish him?

But isn’t that sort of punishing me too?

I want to. And, oh, my gosh. He is—well, he’s doing things to me that I also shouldn’t be letting him do, but I don’t stop him.

I can’t stop him.

I want to feel close to him again. I want to know if things have changed. He said things were different when he kissed Whitney.

Things are not different when we kiss.

I still feel the same desire. The same emotions. I’m ready to take things further, all the way further, and he’s definitely ready.

This is the point where we both know we want to.

Since that first time, we’ve never questioned it. It feels good, so we do it. And I’m ready for that. Expecting that. I’m guiding him toward me.

But he stops.

Again.

“Keatie, I want this more than you know. But I don’t want you to regret it. I never want you to regret what we do. I know maybe it sounds empty because of what happened, but I love you. I really do.”

He strokes my hair, runs the back of his hand down the side of my face, and sweeps it across my chin. I lean my head into his hand as he cradles my face in his palm and looks into my eyes.

I don’t break eye contact. I tilt my pelvis up a little higher, grab his hips, and guide him into me.

He’s a bit shocked by this, I think.

His eyes get big, but then he smiles and starts slowly pushing in and out. Then he leans down and kisses me.

Our kissing matches the rhythm of the sex. Slow and gentle to start, then deeper and harder and faster, until he can’t keep kissing me because it’s gotten so intense.

Finally, he collapses on top of me, breathing heavily. I hug him tightly as he sprinkles little kisses down the side of my cheek and across my shoulder.

“That was amazing.”

I laugh at him. “You always say that.”

“Sorry, I need some new adjectives. I’ll get back to you on that. I’m having a hard time thinking right now.” He grabs a strand of my hair and absent-mindedly twirls it around his finger.

“What are you thinking about?”

“How lucky I am. Does this mean we’re back together?”

“No, but we’re maybe starting over.”

“Yeah, but . . .”

“If you recall, when we started this happened pretty quickly.”

He smiles big. “I do recall. And I swear it won’t end like before. So are we going out again?”

“We’re not. Just like we weren’t then.”

“We’re taking it slow?”

I grin and shake my head because we both know that this is not taking it slow.

“Something like that. I might date other people. And you should too.”

He glances at the clock. “I doubt I will, but we’ll see. Probably better get you home. I don’t want you to be late.”

I glance at the clock and see that he’s right. We quickly get dressed, walk arm in arm back to my dorm, and share a long goodnight kiss.

I’m lying in bed, reading a steamy romance novel, when Katie says, “What happened with you and Dawson tonight?”

“We just, you know, we’re maybe starting over.”

“He just changed his relationship status,” she says, as my phone buzzes.

I pick it up and read what I’m supposed to approve: It’s complicated with Kiki Kiki.

And I don’t know who came up with that relationship status when they invented Facebook, but I’m thinking I couldn’t have described it better myself.

Because it is complicated.

And I’m pretty sure that my sleeping with him just made it even more complicated.

I decide to call Riley. “How’s the video going?”

“Almost done. We’ve got three computers with all the video, and Dallas and Aiden have been helping me find the footage I need. It’s turning out great. Are you going to be up for a little while? I’m putting some finishing touches on it and will send you the link in a few.”

“I’ll wait up. I can’t wait to see it. Um, Riley, uh, how come Aiden is helping you?”

“He offered.”

“Oh. Are you friends?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

A few minutes later, my computer dings with an email. I follow the link and watch the video.

I call Riley back.

“I, um, it’s really good, Riley,” I blubber.

“Are you crying?”

“I’m just, it’s just . . . really good.”

“Yeah, you said that already. It’s supposed to make you want to come here, not cry.”

“It will make people want to come here. It just . . .”

“It’s about us.”

“Exactly. I love you and Dallas.”

“What part made you cry?”

“Just all of it,” I lie.

“What part made you cry?” he asks again sternly.

“Aiden’s part. How people here inspire him to be a better person. About the sunsets.”

“And why did that make you cry?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Because I slept with your brother tonight.”

“Is that what It’s complicated means?”

“Yes.”

“Baby, it’s okay with me if you like Aiden. I know you’ve liked him since school started.”

“Thanks, Riley, but I don’t like Aiden. I mean, I did, at first. But he doesn’t like me back. He wants to be my friend.”

“Oh, really? Your friend?” Riley chuckles.

“Don't laugh at me. I’ve been friend-zoned. It’s embarrassing.”

“Keatyn, I swear, you are clueless.”

“I am not clueless. He told me himself he wants to be my friend.”

“I want to be Ariela’s friend.”

“You also want to sleep with her. Aiden doesn’t want to sleep with me. Actually, that’s not true. He said we might sleep together someday. But I had a friends with benefits relationship before. I don’t want that. I want more.”

“And you’re getting more from Dawson?”

“Yes. No. Kinda. He says he loves me.”

“I’m learning that saying it and proving it are two very different things. Night, baby.”

Wednesday, October 19th

A little more disturbing.

7:25am

I’m putting my mascara on, getting ready for class, when my phone buzzes with a text.

I glance down at it.

Garrett: Meet me at that little diner in town in 20 minutes. We need to talk about Miami.

Me: You’re here? In town? What’s wrong?

Garrett: I need to talk to you.

Me: You have bad news? What’s wrong??!!! Is my family okay??

Garrett: They’re fine. We just have a lot to talk about.

Me: Okay.

I sign myself out of school, pretending to have a dentist appointment, and drive to the diner.

Garrett meets me outside my car. The first thing he does is pull me into a hug.

“I swear, you’re going to give me gray hair. I’m glad you’re okay.”

I pull away, pleasantly surprised by his hug.

“Are we going to talk about Tiny? Did you find some clues to connect him with Vincent? Is he going to jail for a very long time? Can I go back home?”

He sighs and shakes his head. “Afraid not. The guy’s like teflon. I can’t get anything to stick.”

“What if we set him up?”

He narrows his eyes at me. “Set him up?”

“Yeah, planted some evidence. Made it look like he killed Tiny. Tip off the cops.”

“I believe in justice, Keatyn. But I won’t discard my morals.”

“So, I guess that means hiring a hit man to take him out isn’t an option?”

Garrett laughs and shakes his head at me. “Very funny,” he says, but then his face gets serious. “There are a few things going on that I want you to know about.”

“I’m about to get the bad news now, right?”

He hands me a tabloid magazine. Sprawled across the front page is a large headline. Tommy’s Affair With Abby’s Best Friend. Below is a photo of Tommy hugging Millie. The photo looks damaging. Millie is getting into a car and it does look like he’s saying goodbye to his lover. He’s hugging her tighter than usual.

“This can’t be true.”

“It’s not. Tommy, Millie, and a producer had dinner together in LA a few nights ago. They’re trying to convince Tommy to guest star in a few episodes of Millie’s prime time soap opera. She was tired, so she asked Tommy to walk her out to the car. The reason he’s hugging her so tightly is she just told him the reason for her being tired.”

My eyes get big. “She’s pregnant, isn’t she? Oh, my gosh! I’m so excited for her and Deron!”

“She is pregnant. But the press is going crazy. Pulling out any old photos of them together without Abby. Or cropping Abby out of the picture. Their publicists expect this to get worse before it gets better. I just wanted to make sure you don’t worry about it.”

“Thanks, Garrett, I appreciate it.”

“Now, for something a little more disturbing.” He hands me another paper. This one has the words Press Release across the top of it.

Vincent Sharpe of A Breath Behind You Films is pleased to announce casting has commenced for the green-lit film, Another Day at the Lake, a remake of the Abby Johnston cult classic. Mr. Sharpe says, “While some roles have been cast, we’re looking for an unknown to play the role Abby Johnston originated. We’ll be doing nationwide open casting calls in many major cities. If you know someone who looks like the main character in the early version of the film, please message us. And be sure to check our website for details, but get ready Miami and New York, we’re coming to you first.”

The paper slips out of my hand and my knees start to give out. “This is brilliant.”