“It’s not that I didn’t. It’s that I knew I was leaving. I couldn’t expect you to wait for me, so I was trying to be mature about it all. What I wanted to do was throw you in my backpack and take you with me. If all I had in my life was you, my board, and some waves, I’d always be happy.”

“You didn’t want to come to my birthday party.”

“But I did.”

“And you were a jerk.”

“And you kissed another guy.”

“You kissed a girl in your tent before you noticed me.”

“She kissed me.”

“You didn’t stop her.”

“I didn’t. But I should’ve stopped you from running away. Instead, I just stood there, realizing how stupid I was. How immature. I’m sorry I hurt you, Keats. The last thing I ever want to do is hurt you.”

“I’m sorry too. We both made quite a few mistakes. And I’ve been reacting badly to them.”

“How so?”

“Well, when you left me for camping, I lost my virginity to Cush. When you did the cabana girl, I slept with someone else.”

“You were hurt.”

“Yeah, I was and I’ve been blaming you. But I’m the one responsible for my actions. I should have trusted you. You have to trust the people that you love.”

“I should’ve had more faith in our relationship, too. I thought if I left, we’d fall apart. The thought of that hurt. I’m sorry I pushed you away. And then everything happened so fast. My leaving. Your leaving. Not being able to see each other.”

“I don't know if I'll ever get my life back. I don't know if we'll ever get another chance, or if either one of us would want it if we did. But I know I miss you. You gave me a lot of good advice. You made me look at myself. I sucked. I'm trying to be a better person here. And I'm making friends. I'm more myself than I’ve ever been. But there’s one problem.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m finally able to be me. I’m everything I wanted to be. But I’m still like a fake Prada bag because I’m lying to everyone.”

“Meet me.”

“Meet you?”

“Yeah. Like, anytime. Anywhere. I’ll miss a tournament. Say I'm sick and at my hotel resting. But I'll really fly somewhere and meet you. No one will know. Please. I need to hold you in my arms. I need to feel you again. I need to tell you I'm sorry in person, so you know I mean it. I kiss my tattoo every time I go out to surf. It’s sort of my way of feeling like you’re here with me. Like you should be.”

“Vincent got a tattoo like ours. It’s on his wrist in the exact spot as yours.”

“That’s sick.”

“He rubbed it on mine. Got off on it. It was really disgusting.”

“Don’t let him ruin what it means to us. Don’t.”

“I’m trying not to. What does it mean to us? Or, I mean, what does it mean to you, like, now?”

“I was looking at it tonight, actually, and thinking it symbolizes hope. Hope that fate will bring us back together. But I just decided I changed my mind about fate. Fate sucks ass. I don’t want to wait. So what do you say? About seeing me? Are you free anytime soon?”

“I tried out for the school play and got a part. We have rehearsal every day for the next few weeks until it’s over.”

“Really? You never told me you wanted to act. But you’d be great at it. Remember, I told you that. That’s why I thought you didn’t know who the real you was. Because you could effortlessly play any role. You’ll be a great actress if you want to be.”

“I’d like to be. But I can’t really do it if Vincent is still in the picture. You know, I see you every day on my wall.”

“And I have the picture of us on the beach in Biarritz with me always. The one of us kissing as the sun rises. Every time I get up early and surf, I think of you. Always. I love you, Keats.”

I feel like I should say it back, but I can’t. “Thanks,” I say awkwardly.

“It sounds hollow, I know. That's why we need to see each other again. I miss you, Keats.”

“Do you like the surf tour?”

“Yes. I'm learning a lot about myself. I was a jerk to you in Europe. About your clothes. Don't laugh—actually, go ahead and laugh—I bought nice luggage.”

I do laugh. “Seriously? Why?”

“Because you were right. I get better service that way, and I like it.”

“Maybe there's hope for you yet.”

“I’m glad we talked things out. We’ll talk soon, okay?”

“Deal.”

“And Keats?”

“Yeah?”

“Promise me that when this is over, I’ll get another chance.”

“I promise, B,” I say, mostly because I refuse to give up the dream that I’ll get the perfect ending to my script. With the boy who was originally cast in every one of my love stories.

Saturday, October 22nd

The best of all of you.

8am

While I’m at rehearsal that literally started before the sun came up, I get a surprise text.

Camden:  Call me.

I’m not sure why he’d want me to call him, but my curiosity gets the best of me, so during a break, I do.

“Hey,” he says.

“Um, hi. What do you want?”

He chuckles. “The list is long. But let’s start with my brother.”

“Dawson?”

“Sure. Let’s start there. I hear you’re dating him and Aiden.”

“Uh, kinda.”

“I heard about the panties. That he believes you. But I’m not sure he should.”

“No offense, but I don’t care what you think. Dawson and I have always been honest with each other. Last night, he was brutally honest with me.”

“He wants to get back together with you?”

“He just wants to graduate and go to college.”

“I just don’t want him with Whitney. We can’t let her get her claws back in him.”

“I know what really happened with you two. How you slept with her and dumped her. How she settled for your brother. How he has no idea you were her first.”

The line goes completely silent. I can’t even hear him breathe. I think I lost the connection until he sucks in a breath and says, “You knew all that, but didn’t tell him the truth when she texted him?”

“I couldn’t. I didn’t want to hurt him. Do you know how badly that would’ve hurt him?”

“Most girls would have told him to keep him.”

“I’m not most girls.”

“I’m starting to realize that.” He pauses for a moment. “It’s more than that though. While they were dating, and even now, she texts me. Almost stalks me. Sends me naked pictures. Tells me what I’m missing.”

“Why didn’t you tell Dawson? He’s your brother. How could you let him keep dating her?”

“I wanted to tell him so many times. But I didn’t want to hurt him either. I kept hoping they would break up. That it wouldn’t last. But then, the longer I didn’t tell him, the worse it would’ve been. I kept a file though.”

“A file?”

“Yeah. All her texts. Naked pictures. Stuff she said about him.”

“Why?”

“In case he ever wanted to marry her, I was going to tell him the truth. I needed proof. Here, I just sent you an example.”

“An example! I don’t want to see Whitney naked!”

“Just look at it. You need to know what you’re up against.”

“I’m not up against her. I have no fight with her.”

“She sent me this last night.”

Whitney:  You may not have been jealous of Dawson, but I don’t care anymore. There’s a hot new teacher at school. Peyton thinks she’s going to get him, but she can’t have everything. I won’t let her. And he’s so much more of a man than you are. This is what you missed out on. This is where I’m going to do him.

Following is a photo of Whitney, mostly naked, lying on Cooper Steele’s new desk.

“What the hell? How did she get in his office?”

“I don’t know, but she’s losing it. She and Peyton are in some kind of war.”

“Peyton is tired of her shit.”

“I’m sure she is. She’s put up with it for too long, but I’m worried about her.”

“I heard your breakup was really bad.”

“Yeah, I was young and dumb. But we’re friends now. That’s why I’m worried.”

“Have you told her this?”

“Of course. She won’t listen. She has some plan. Thinks she’s going to destroy Whitney and win some stupid contest in the process. What she doesn’t get is that she won’t. Whitney is a devious, scheming bitch, and Peyton is no match for her. She’s too nice.”