But I don’t really don’t feel like partying.

I’ll stay here. I’m sure he’ll be texting, calling, or knocking on my window soon. He’ll apologize and tell me I can unzip his pants whenever I want.

And then I will.

I wake up, look at the clock, and see it’s already five in the morning. Katie is in her bed fast asleep.

I reach to my bedside table, frantically feeling for my phone. When I can’t find it, I pat my covers all around me looking for it.

All of a sudden, it lights up from under my pillow.

It must be him!

I grab it, expecting to see that he’s tried to call me numerous times.

But he hasn’t.

I only have a few stupid Facebook notifications.

What the hell?

Saturday, November 19th

What’s wrong, baby?

7am

I wake up again at seven and immediately check my phone to see if he texted me.

He hasn’t.

Instead, I have a text from Camden.

Cam: What’s going on with Whitney?

Me: What do you mean?

Cam: She hasn’t sent me anything or texted me in three days.

Me: Shouldn’t you be happy about that?

Cam: I should be, but I’m not. Something’s up. Is Peyton okay?

Me: I haven’t seen her this morning, but she’s been fine.

Cam: Something is about to happen. I know it.

Me: Why do you think that?

Cam: Just stuff that she’s been saying about that new teacher. The last time she didn’t text me for three days, she got a girl expelled from school.

Me: Who?

Cam: Just a chick from the dance team. She was hot and was after Dawson hard.

Me: Did she lie to get her kicked out?

Cam: No one knows for sure. She told Peyton the girl was going down. And a few days later, she did.

Me: Peyton has really been pushing her buttons. I keep telling her to stop.

Cam: What’s your email?”

Me: [email protected] /* */

Cam: I’m sending you a file. It is full of dirt on Whitney. You have my permission to use it to protect Peyton. If there’s any way for Dawson not to see it, I’d prefer it, but don’t let her hurt P.

Me: Are you in love with her?

Cam: We’re kind of like you and Riley. I feel the need to protect that girl.

Me: I’ll keep an eye out.

Cam: Thanks.

Me: Can I ask you something?

Cam: Sure.

Me: Is there any reason why you would stop a girl that you like from unbuttoning your pants?

Cam: Uh, can’t think of one.

Me: Would you be afraid you couldn’t stop?

Cam: I’d be afraid she couldn’t stop. I’m irresistible.

Me: What if she could? What if you wanted her to?

Cam: Why would I want her to?

Me: You’re making her wait until you’re sure you’re in love.

Cam: Uh . . . Is the golden boy making you wait?

Me: We got in a big fight last night about it and I stormed off. He hasn’t texted me or apologized or anything.

Cam: P says he likes you and you have that whole Thanksgiving break trip planned. I’m sure it’s just a little tiff.

Me: You’re right. Maybe I should apologize for that. Maybe he’s waiting for me to apologize?

Cam: Probably :)

Me: Thank you :)

Maybe that’s why he hasn’t texted me. He’s waiting for me to apologize.

So that’s what I’ll do. I’ll go watch his football practice and then apologize to him.

I shower, spend extra time blowing my hair out straight, and then stand in my closet trying to figure out what to wear.

If I were smart, I’d wear some sweats so I’d be warm and comfortable, but I want to look perfect when I say I’m sorry.

It’s chilly this morning, but has been unseasonably warm this week, so I decide on a cream lace bra and thong that have pale pink embroidery, cream over-the-knee socks worn with tall brown boots, orange denim shorts, a cream top, and a cream sweater jacket cinched with a brown braided belt.

I decide to pull my straightened hair back in a cute pony. So that I look like I didn’t try, even though I totally did. Kym would be proud.

I head out to get a coffee to take with me.

Just as I step out of my dorm, I notice Chelsea sitting on the brick wall.

She jumps off of it when she sees me and says, “Keatyn.”

“Hi, Chelsea,” I say politely because I know that Dallas likes her.

She raises her chin in the air. “I just wanted to let you know that Aiden and I hooked up last night. He’s mine now. And, really, no one likes you here. You should just go back to California or wherever it is that you came from.”

“I don’t believe you.”

She shrugs one shoulder and raises a bitchy eyebrow at me. “What? You think you can have every hot guy here? And you better believe it. Aiden and I have history. We broke up last year after prom, and he’s been begging to get back together all semester. You were nothing but a rebound.”

She turns her back on me and walks away, shaking her curvy ass.

I drop to the step, barely able to breathe.

Is that true?

I was just a rebound?

Was everything he told me a lie?

I’m going to . . .

I’m going to . . .

I don’t even know what I’m going to do.

But then I turn and run straight to the boys’ dorm.

I find myself knocking on Riley’s door.

He opens it wearing a Cougar athletic hoodie and sweats, ready for football practice. “Hey, I was just leaving.”

I stand there and stare at him. Then I lose it. Tears start streaming down my face. I shove my head into his chest and sob, going from calm and in control to a freaking wreck in the blink of an eye.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he says, rubbing my back and holding me up.

I blabber on about how Aiden swore he was going to be different. How we fought last night. How Chelsea was waiting outside my dorm. How she told me they hooked up. How he’s been trying to get back together with her all semester. How I was just a rebound.

While I am blathering, he’s texting.

“What’s so important?”

“I just asked Dallas to come here,” Riley says. His teeth are held together tightly, like he’s mad at me.

“Why?”

Dallas walks in the room and Riley literarily pushes me out of his arms and into Dallas’.

“He didn’t even say goodbye,” I say to Dallas, watching Riley march down the hall. “I mean, I know he had to leave for practice, but why is he mad at me?”

Dallas gives me a hug, pulls me onto his bed, and says, “I don’t think it’s you that he’s mad at.”

I stop sniffling. “Oh. So is that why he was texting you? He was telling you what happened?”

Dallas nods and says quietly, “Yeah.”

“Did you know about Aiden and Chelsea?”

“No,” he says, and I realize that he liked Chelsea a lot more than he admitted.

I sniffle, pull all the snot back into my sinuses—or wherever it goes—and say, “You liked her, didn’t you?”

“I was thinking about asking her to be my girlfriend. She said she really liked me.”

I hug him again, tightly. “Relationships suck.”

“Funny thing is, I didn’t think I wanted a relationship. But then we kept doing it. And it was fun. Hot. Nice.” He pauses. “Obviously, not nice enough.”

“I’m sorry, Dallas,” I say as his phone whistles at him, letting him know he has a text.

He holds his phone up so we can both read it.

Dawson: My brother just ran out onto the field, marched up to Aiden, and punched him. I’m talking freaking LAID HIM OUT. Question is, why?

Dallas: Kiki.

Dawson: So the rumors I heard this morning about him hooking up with Chelsea are true?

Dallas: I guess.

Dawson: Where is she?

Dallas: Bawling on my shoulder.

Dawson: Tell her I’ll be there right after practice.

Dallas and I decide to stop being pitiful and turn on some up-beat, happy music.

After we listen for a while, Dallas says, “Let’s throw a party.”

“A pity party?” I say with a sad laugh.

“Exactly.” He grabs his phone and orders ten large pizzas, lots of hot wings, breadsticks, and little molten lava cakes. Then he says, “Be right back.”

I go in their bathroom, fix my makeup, and talk to myself in the mirror.

You’re fine.

You don’t need a boy in your life.

You have good friends.

You’re happy with yourself.

That’s all you need.

But I also decide to send Aiden a text.

If I love myself, I should stand up for myself.

I type a long hateful paragraph and then delete it.

I type a short spiteful sentence and then delete.

I’m having a hard time getting into words the right amount of the venom I’m feeling combined with the impersonality of a chain letter. Finally, I end up with this.

Me: Chelsea told me that you hooked up last night.

Dallas strolls back into the room, his hands full of vending machine junk food: multiple bags of chips, pretzels, and candy bars. He’s got a full package of chocolate chip cookies tucked under his arm and bottles of full-sugar soda under the other.

“You’re like the king of pity parties. I worship you.”

“You’re looking more human. Not so much like a zombie.”

“Thanks, I think. Is it bad that I kinda want to go watch the end of practice? Try to show Aiden he means nothing to me?”

“Aiden has a broken nose and is in the locker room being attended to. Riley is in the dean’s office getting suspended.”

“Suspended? For what?”

“You can’t go around punching people. It’s kinda against school rules.”

“Oh. I never thought of that! I feel so bad! He shouldn’t have punched him, that was stupid of him.”

“Not sweet?”

“It was totally sweet, but he shouldn’t have.”

Dawson walks into the room, his hair wet from practice and looking more scrumptious than all the junk food combined. “Yeah, he should have.”

“What’s gonna happen? Do you know?”

“Well, Coach told me they were going to suspend him for the next three days, which would mean he won’t get to play in the playoff game. I told Coach that if he didn’t play, neither was I. That a lot of us wouldn’t play. He says he’s going to talk to the dean. We’ll see.”

“I feel really bad.”

Dawson grabs me around the waist and pulls me onto the bed with him.

“Last time Riley got mad, it was you he wanted to punch.”

“I didn’t cheat on you. So are you and Aiden over?”

“I thought it was just a fight. I mean, I said I was done, but I was frustrated. I didn’t mean it.”

“But now?”

I thought I was done crying, but tears fill my eyes. I can’t say it out loud. I don’t want to say it out loud. I shake my head. “Don’t make me say it, Dawson.”

“Why don’t you just have a cookie?” he says, handing me one.

I look up at him and Dallas. “I was going to say it just doesn’t get any better than this, but we’d need rum in our cokes for that.”

Dallas’ phone buzzes. “Pizza’s here. I’ll go get it.”

Dawson pops off the bed. “And I’ll go get some rum.” But then he sits back down on the corner of the bed and says, “As usual, I probably shouldn’t do this, but I am.”

Normally, I would say And then he kissed me, but he just kisses the side of my cheek. Which is good because I can’t kiss anyone else. I’m pretty sure Aiden ruined my lips forever.

Dallas comes back with the pizza delivery and we spread out all the food and snacks.

I chow down. I don’t care that I’m going to be in St. Croix in a bikini in a few days.

St. Croix. I’m such an idiot. Why did I invite Aiden and Peyton?

Obviously, they are officially uninvited.

I plop on the bed. Depressed.

And feeling like I just ate a moose.

Riley and Ace come walking in.

“It smells good in here,” Riley says, grabbing a piece of pizza, folding it in half, and shoving it in his mouth.

“Riley! Why did you do that? What did the dean say?”

He chews, then says, “He yelled at me. Told me I should be suspended for three days. Called my parents—who also yelled at me—and then brought Aiden in to talk about it. His nose is broken. The dean asked if he wanted to press charges. Aiden said no. Said he deserved it. That he hoped I wouldn’t get in trouble because the team needs me for the playoffs.”

“He said he deserved it?”

“Yep.”

“Shit.” I put my hand across my face and try not to cry.

I realize that I had still been holding out hope that she was lying to me. My heart didn’t believe he would do such a thing.

But if Aiden said he deserved it that means everything she said was true.

“So did you get suspended?” I ask.

“Coach says I have to run about a million laps and do some shit jobs for him, but I’m not suspended.”

I leap off the bed, throw myself into his arms, and start crying again.

He hugs me tightly and whispers, “Baby, I told you. Anybody messes with you, they have to answer to me.”

“Aiden hated that you call me baby.”

“I don’t think I care.”

“You deserve some rum and coke.”